Thursday, September 10, 2015

There is something about Wednesday's

In 1974, NASA's Carl Sagan sent a message out into the wonderfully vast and, relatively, empty out there that is space. In 2001, a response came in. 

I have always been amazed that a message direct edge at no one, sent out with no deliberate projection, was able to deliver home a reply. I have, for 20 years now, been sending messages, particular carefully worded snippets of thought, in particular directions, to much closer distances. Objectively speaking. Sometimes the distance between us and Jupiter seems less that that and the rest of the human populace. Especially who ever the message, my message of the day, my daily flavor, is directed towards. That, I would not feel inaccurate likening to Pluto, Humae, Makemake, and Eris and their relationship to our very own sun. I am the frozen dwarves. 

Close to giving up, hell, it took only 21 years for NASA to do it and here I am at 20, one more year to go down, the last domino! I was close to giving up. I am always there, dangling my feet off the edge of trying and not and feeling the sweet feeling of nothing below to catch me. It's a nice spot. A favorite spot. A mental hangout I hold an exclusive membership card to. 

But then something interesting happened. 

While my linguistic skills are lacking and mostly based on modern English, I have tried my best to decipher what this is, what I have received. I won't attempt to write it down. It isn't possible, and not just because of my limited vocabulary. It's more, oh shit, this is hard, it's more - it's a feeling in your finger tips that can't seem to be pressed down to paper, a presence that cannot be expelled through your layers of dermal tissue and adipose. No matter how your lymph nodes try to shove it out, much like the bubonic plague (though not deadly in that particular way, rather, it is rather pleasant), it won't work and eventually it just seeps into you and your organs and becomes part of you and sometimes you taste it in your mouth a bit. This is what I have now.

And it's a package that comes with freebies. Opening the box, the envelope, the telegram, ripping apart the container, I found not only a warmth under my skin, but a place to rest my skin. It's a wonderful place. Perhaps I'll even apply for membership, just like on my cliff. A dual citizen of the cold and hot. It's a place between his shoulders and his neck and that is where I breathe easy. I'm not the biggest fan of this strange exercise of breathing, but there, I find myself understanding the hype. I love the scent of blood, pulsing, living, rushing, hidden but right there, and it's his blood and it's warm and it lulls me to sleep. There have been recent expansions to this property. Here, a hand on a wide expanse of chest, legs mashed together to form a tangled mess a mad scientist would be proud of, other hand plunging deep into his thoracic cavity to find what on earth he possesses inside him that is awakening all my sleeping dragons and making me want to crawl inside and hang myself with his guts. It's a lovely place. Would definitely recommend to a friend. If you're visiting the area, be sure to check this out!

There is something about this person and I like it very much. I think it's the way he says words like actually and surprisingly, words I should know but somehow his tongue and lips translate to something foreign. I think it's the spaces. These little spaces he leaves, as if the vowels and consonants shouldn't touch, like mashed potatoes and green peas. Or maybe they're spaces to grow, for the aaaa's to expand and have room to breathe. I don't know. But I adore it and I would listen to every actual thing that's ever happened to him, anything and everything that has taken him by surprise.


I'm finding it hard to find the proper way to end this. Maybe it's all the murakami I've been shoving into my brain. Maybe it's the way this whole thing feels like a murakami book - real but not real, just two steps away from what my brain can accept. I've known him forever and yet now, I cannot comprehend two things - how I have not held his hand this entire time and that I now am. Updates to follow, as my processor continues to digest this new information, these wonderful feelings, this delicious boy who I love very much.

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