The wind was high, dry and hot as a hair dryer held like a gun to your head: Nogales in August. A parking lot of gravel and rocks, a sloping yellow dog inching and then slumping, following the shade across a weedy corner. The border fence an ineffectual, token barrier, made of tarnished tinfoil, hemmed on both sides by shacks of the same stuff. The wind is so harsh and the sun so bright it seems they come from the same place, like the sun is far too close and has begun to burn the tops of the trees, fanned by my breath and the breeze into a wicked blaze. It begins to eat at the power lines, the poles, the roofs, the very air is burning... a bright explosion of such sheer overstimulation that being blinded is my duty, looking away unthinkable.

It's like that. Like falling into the sun, like approaching an event horizon: I can see where the path goes into the glare and disappears, but beyond that...who can know? A paradigm shift... can't see the other side till you're there. But I'm ready for it, and I can't even tell you how excited. A sea-change working in my mind, a new iteration, permutation, understanding, even? Perhaps. Perhaps something else entirely. Whatever it is, I welcome it with open arms, with a smile and the greatest joy I've ever known.

Into the white, bring it on, baby!

Judged: Good
QOR: 7% evil, 93% good.

Labels: Art, Brendon, Hope, Love

I'm back in town, baby.
To quote:

If anyone feels like maintaining what relationship they have with me, they may feel free to do so once again.

I'm hinting at someone here.

Judged: Good
QOR: 1% evil, 99% good.

WHAM.
Right.
In.
The.
FACE.

Why the fuck can't people from your goddamn past stay in your goddamn past.

It's four in the morning
The end of December
I'm writing you now just to see if you're better.
New York is cold, but I like where I'm living,
There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
I hear that you're building your little house deep in the desert.
You're living for nothing now... I hope you're keeping some kind of record.
Yes, and Jane came by with a lock of your hair;
She said that you gave it to her
The night that you planned to go clear.
Did you ever go clear?

Oh the last time we saw you, you looked so much older,
Your famous blue raincoat was torn at the shoulder.
You'd been to the station to meet every train there.
You came home without leaving your name.
And you treated my woman to a flake of your life...
And when she came back, she was nobody's wife...
Well, I see you there with a rose in your teeth,
One more thin gypsy thief.
And I see Jane's away...
She sends her regards.

Well what can I tell you, my brother, my killer?
What can I possibly say?
I guess that I missed you... guess I forgive you.
I'm glad you stood in my way.
If you ever come by here, for Jane or for me
When your enemy is sleeping, and his woman is free...
Jane came by with a lock of your hair,
She said that you gave it to her
The night that you planned to go clear.
Sincerely...

I feel like I've been punched in the gut. I'm going, for now, to hold onto the shining knowledge of the most beautiful boy in the world coming to be with me, very soon. It won't be hard to kill this stupid sick feeling... I've been doing all right for a while. Just hearing from the lazy bastard again is a bit of a blow. Someday, someday I'm going to have to face this shit head-on. I can't do it alone, though, so I'm going to wait for you, B, okay? I'll need you there.

For now... my love and... my tiredness. More later. Keep your chins up, beloveds.


Judged: Evil
QOR: 64% evil, 36% good.

Labels: Missing You, Stress

I've only been here a few days, but it feels like so much longer... one day runs into the next. I've already forgotten what day it is. As for time, I could tell you that it's afternoon, but beyond that it's anyone's guess.This place is so beautiful, always has been. I don't know if it gets more so every year or if my ability to appreciate it is rarified... but this time it is more amazing than ever before because now there's another pair of eyes for whom I'm making mental (and literal) snapshots. I look around like I've never been here before, because I want you to be able to look through my eyes.My computer broke down the first day, so I can't listen to any of my music, which is a blow... but it's always playing in my head. Song by song, things I remember... I get up in the morning and look out over the trees at the sun coming up out of the ocean, and "The Hague" plays as clear as the light. And I hear your strange music, gentle and true... singing inside me with the best parts of you, now that I'm here. I hope somewhere you hear them too... now that I'm here. I love you. Some days are harder... actually it's fruitless to count in days, it's more that some minutes are harder. I say something, or someone else says something, and I can hear your response, your laughter. I see something and I turn, I literally turn around to look at you, to point, to call, and the sinking feeling in my chest, like a sudden drowning sensation, when there's nothing behind me but my own footprints in the sand. But sometimes I look at the stars... and they were so amazing last night, so unspeakably astounding that I fell to my knees... sometimes I look at the stars and I can feel you laughing in my head... feel your joy, your wonder, your awe so great it's almost painful, welling up inside me. I dream and I see you there, a few steps ahead, a little shadowed now, and I can't quite catch up the way I used to, but still I haven't lost you. Still I never fall more than a few steps behind. Still I'm listening, and loving you for every word you say.Every day here I love you more. I feel myself and silence within me, and I love that, the silence, the peace, the solitude, and even as I rarify and refine my own spirit I feel it is coming closer to yours... like by shaping myself, smoothing my edges, clarifying my details, I make myself more capable of being part and parcel of the creature, the strong, beautiful creature we two make together. Something with four legs, four eyes, four hands for running and seeing and creating, something with two mouths for singing and shouting, something with strength of arm and limb and heart and mind to defeat anything... even this great grey beast of time and distance that tears at me day by day. I feel that I'm becoming more worthy of you and the miracle that you represent in my life... soon I'll be ready to receive it, my spirit large enough to encompass all that you give me without even knowing.

I'm watching, when I can. I'm keeping track of you. It feels like it's been so long already... and I will keep watch more often than either of us think. Tell me everything... everything you're thinking. I'm writing every day, in a notebook for you. Writing you every day, drawing, thinking and sending whispers with your name on them. Listen, my love. Listen and hear me and be comforted, as I'm comforted by your beautiful eyes and words and the feeling of you in my body and my mind with me, sharing my space, sharing my spirit, sharing my life, as you will always be. And tell me everything you're thinking, and you will have my answers, my comfort, my voice, whenever you wish them.

I love you... and when this moment passes I'll love you still more. Another breath, and more. I could watch it grow all day... but then I wouldn't be able to gather these moments, these snapshots, these pictures in a notebook for you. So I go, and walk, and swim, and watch, and collect things to bring back and lay at my lord's feet... some small repayment for the indescribable wonder you make out of my life.
Until next time, B, dreamer, lover, twin. It won't be long.

Judged: Good
QOR: 40% evil, 60% good.

Labels: Brendon, Introspection, Missing You