I've calmed down in the last few days? (That would be a colossal lie) I would say more that it is important to approach certain matters with a little rational behaviour. I can break silence because photography has started (Though I think I'll wait for a bit of time to post what is evolving, because it is turning into it's own narrative) Looking the part has now become even more crucial, which is why I've backed the starting date to the beginning of April (for other reasons as well, mind you) Isabelle and I will get together in a few days to figure out the show, as will I visit Samantha (I know a lot of individuals named Samantha, you know) to sort out when her event will take place. Brutal physical behaviour does a few things to a man. So does bleeding. So does a lot of longing.
On a random aside, and something I won't make common knowledge, save to the people who read this blog (and my boss) my skin cancer has returned to my legs, so this week a determination will be made as to how to deal with this, and to make sure there is nothing else wrong (I have faith there is nothing else wrong, so I'm not worried) I was looking at my legs and how fucked up they truly look right now, understanding that treatment will only make them worse (to the point where I am thinking I should wear those scars during the show, rather than cover them up)
Wear those scars. Vulnerability (That word again) That word has complicated things, and altered narrative. That and understanding that my words are not enough. They are not. They are powerful, and I love singing them, and they are not enough, so yes, I've pushed my show back because I need to adapt to the immediacy of the circumstances.
I am starting to think I attract passive lovers. You know, one of the things I'm quite good at (and proud of such a distinction I am) is that I truly have the stamina to endure any kind of fucking. And that I can do things with my mouth besides the obvious that few men truly can do (I am going to start believing it, because it's been said to me several times in twelve months, so excuse me for the momentary arrogance - I believe it now) One of those things is talk. I talk and I give and I talk and I give and you lie back and you take it ('You' being the collective wealth of women I've known in the last year) You remind me of a dancer I once knew, who's bed was more a performance stage where she would simply undress, lie back, and take waves of pleasure for hours and for days and when it came time to give, she failed at it (and trust, I'm not the hardest man to give pleasure to) I am inspiring, and I've made you come several times one way or another over days or weeks or months, and I am still waiting. Waiting (Do I have the tone of voice of a man who is pleased with waiting?)
I can wait. Give me something to tide me over and I can wait. Otherwise I am starting to feel uninspired to make the effort (and that is not specific to anyone - that is as general of a statement as there can be)
You know, it's still happening, even before touch. I give and I give and it's now expected. It's the norm. You want, and you desire, but the understanding has to be that in order for me to believe in desire, I require something more than 'wow...'
If words are not enough in my life, why would I assume they would be enough in narrative? (And so, that understanding changes everything) Why would I assume that a show based in longing and want that uses words is enough to speak to what I feel?
So that will change a few things. You'll get me in the bed. You will have your 'A Love Supreme...' You will have your song, and your longing, and your desire (but to say the least, changes to the narrative are taking place, as profound to the changes of my body, and of my heart)
Do not expect me, though, to be a selfless man anymore. I'm tired of it. I will give and I will give and give again.
You meet me halfway.
(That's the deal)