01-06-04 - -
Listening to my new Ani's "Not So Soft" I close my eyes and her notes pour right through me. She may be "bitchy" to others but to me a great lot of her lyrics are downright affirming. "My life may not be something special, but it's never been lived before." They make me feel like Super-Amy, endowed with special powers to cope with my feelings, to create new things, to dance. The words fill me with inspiration. I look forward to going back to school, to writing lots of poems. Bat's letting me back in poet's group -- well, I'm looking forward to about everything. When I'm in the right mood, picking up little pieces of junk and escorting them to the trash can seems like a divine errand. When I'm high, everything is mysteriously in its right place. Ginger oil is on the diffuser. My sheets are smells-like-soap clean. Bat wants to see me tommorrow. I want to sip white Zin and watch movies on his world's-tiniest-TV and be happy that he is in the room.
I miss having someone to take care of me. I miss having someone to take care of. I don't think Bat ever did the best job he could have. I wish, I suppose, that he had been more creative in what he gave and assertive in what he wanted. I can dream up all sort of things I'd like to have a lover do for me. For example, my lover would give me a bath and rub fragrant salts into my body, and when I got out, wrap a big fluffy towel around me. My lover would make me special dinners, and when I did things for my lover, she'd melt. My voice would work it's way down to my lover's core the way my mother's does for my Dad, and mine does in the way it resembles her. My lover would understand that sometimes tears run down my face because I am in awe of him. When I was sad, my love might not know what to do, but would try everything she could think of. I can't imagine how dizzy for each other we would be; I get delerious with Bat sometimes still. I wish I could have appreciated him more, but I wonder if that were possible.
It's hard for me to conceive of how I am going to trust anyone from now on. Men have proved themselves to be the continuous burn I was warned of while women seem conveniently out of reach. I can't help but blame myself, to some degree, for being so "loose", so "easy." Jay told me of Nash, "Well, what do you expect?" Well, of COURSE sex screws things up -- yet I would expect a level of courtesy. I don't expect sex to forge me friendships, but I don't expect it to dissolve them instantaneously. Argh, it's all more complicated than I thought. I think, at some level, I sometimes have sex out of loneliness. More often, I simply can't see why not to.
Bat is staying at his two bedroom apartment all by himself. I would love to move in across the hall. Perhaps my hopes are too great.
I'm back on the wagon again. Flushed my ciggys. My mouth will taste sweet, and my Dad won't die young. Except -- even though I can start him up again, I can't keep him quit.
