I give up. I don’t know what they want. I don’t think they even know what they want. Don’t fucking kiss me unless you’re serious.

Oh, I screwed Weekend Escapade again.

This is what you do when you’re hot and single and the one you like is an idiot.

Just read the part of Rilke’s Seventh Elegy I posted. It seems I unwittingly planted a time capsuled message to myself. I don’t think there will be an outcome. I think there will just be constant movement.

I hope I remember everything. And I hope I remember everything correctly and in order. Sometimes I can’t get my chronology right. And I wonder if I remember things wrong and out of order and did they really happen? I hope I don’t just imagine things. Maybe I am a little like Henry in this way.

The thing is, I can’t stop thinking about him.

And I can’t stop thinking about the movement of time. How fast it’s going. And what I am or am not doing. And I want to doubt. But I feel like it’s all going the right way. That I am doing everything exactly as it should be done so that I end up right where I should be. Not so much need to be, but where I SHOULD be. Where I belong in time.

I need to write to her and tell her EVERYTHING before I forget.

I hope I don’t forget. Or get it wrong.

Ahhhh I don’t want to be this way! My brain is like soft clay, waiting for any impression to hold. And then it is stuck there, interfering with everything and giving me nothing. Stubbornly stuck in a fog of wistful hoping. Branded. Stamped. Jailed.

And I can’t put my mind to anything. Can’t focus on reading. Don’t want to do anything. Don’t want to walk or run. Tired of food. Tired of poor choices. Too tired to change.

And it goes on…

Oh and I nearly forgot (which is probably a good thing). Weekend Escapade was in town again, but alas, no call, no nothing. And it is perhaps a good thing. But would have been not completely unwelcome.

And so I wait…

And it goes on…

From The Seventh Elegy by Rainer Maria Rilke:

No more wooing! Voice, you’ve outgrown wooing; it won’t/ be/

the reason for your cry anymore, even if you cried clear as

a bird when the soaring season lifts him, almost forgetting

he’s an anxious creature, and not just a single heart

she’s tossing toward brightness, into the intimate blue.

Just like him, you’d be courting some still invisible,

still silent lover, a mate whose reply was slowly waking

and warming itself while she listened–the glowing

reflection of your own fired feeling.

………

Don’t think I’m wooing you!

And, Angel, even if I were, you wouldn’t come.

Because my call is always full of “Get away!”….

~~~~

(Oh but I am and who knows.)

It’s no use. Every book I read, HE is there. Every instance in every sentence makes me think of him.

Poem for the boy I like on facebook

There are no walls without you,

no need for letters,

no need for words.

I don’t want to see a single letter

Unless it came from you.

But how to keep it?

How to keep

that fleeting black and white,

that flickering curséd cursor,

that fatuous anticipation,

that instant gratification?

There is no wit without you,

no need for trying hard,

no need for trying at all.

Why don’t you say something?

Why don’t you

I had an interesting moment at work today. I was in a good mood and suddenly I was in a terrible mood. But I knew at that moment what was going on. That it was just the soup of my brain reconfiguring itself. My days are a little off thanks to the science experiment which ends this weekend.

I just keep telling myself I know what I’m doing.

So Studious Cutie was in again today but nothing. No looking, no smiling, no heying, no goodbying. Which is unfortunate because I want to try mirroring…

And oh. I was telling Coworker about Weekend Escapade and naturally she looked on facebook to check him out and I happened to notice some information that I didn’t know about which would have come in really handy. I should have known better! I should have remembered to do my research! It was something we could have discussed, something that maybe would have helped bring him in! Oh well… As you know, what is meant to be will be.

So I have to get this all out and down because it is driving me crazy and I will never be able to do a thing if I don’t. The good news is my favorite genius woman author has done it again with her new book. And now I know why I am the way I am. It’s all my brain’s doing. My brain and its chemicals. So really it is not me. I am completely under the influence. I am only acting in accordance to my brain. And what else can I do but that?

So my brain is making me do that thing where I take turns obsessing over each in turn. For example, I am wondering if Weekend Escapade is going to talk to me again. And if he purposely didn’t ask for my phone number. Yeah he’s on facebook but what does that mean?

Then there’s Current Crush who is actually Flashback From the Past/Missed Opportunity/Very Nearly Everything I Want. The more I talk to him the more I am interested. And everytime he seeks me out I go crazy. But. Again. No asking for the phone number.

What is that? Is it true then? Should I give up on both?

Really I am leaning toward Current Crush. Weekend Escapade is a distraction. A very good and welcome distraction to be sure, but there is always the elusive Crush. And that certainly makes him so interesting.

And then there’s Studious Cutie at work whom I’ve lured in with “the look” and who returned “the look.” And who yesterday gave me the “hey” which I also returned. So that’s going well. (Insert devilish grin here.)

So all of this is a result of my estrogen-overdosing brain.

She (Favorite Genius Woman Author) says my brain daydreams, obsesses, falls in love, imagines, and is introspective. This is all true. Nice to hear it from a professional. But now what? I hope She tells me what to do.

So I am relying on Fate. I am sitting back and waiting. I am going to try very hard to let them do the work. Even though I am dying to message Weekend Escapade, contantly message Current Crush instead of waiting for him, and approach Studious Cutie. (Hey, he’s young. Who knows?) Oh. Almost forgot Taken In Other City Boy who is not really my friend, who has captured my attention via clever statements and who shows attention thanks to a clever blowjob joke I made, but who has a girlfriend. You see, I am either Boy-Crazy or Estrogen-Certifiably Insane.  

Oh and there is a huge stack of books I checked out that I should be reading.

I have a bangover.

And I really don’t know what to say. I just know things happen for a reason. They always do. And this was meant to happen. And I’m glad it did.

And I think this starts year two of great singlehood. But I hope it’s a stepping stone to where I want to be.

Really, I have no idea how things are going to turn out with anything. I guess I’ll just go along until it becomes clear.

So this guy I went to high school with was in town and I ran into him at the bar last night. And it turned out to be better than expected. He came home with me. It is so weird how things happen. Who knew how doing something so simple not too long ago could have such an affect on something so recent.

But I can’t figure him out like most men. So I’m thinking he’s probably where I am. Ok with it and knowing it’s not going to go anywhere since he lives out of state. But it really was a fantastic thing.

And now there’s that other thing to be dealt with. Because now I feel like I can’t talk to Current Crush. I feel a little guilty almost even though I really shouldn’t.

So we’ll see what happens.

Poem for Today

He was right. And he will always be right.

What does he mean by sending me a joke in real time?

What I want to know is, how did he know? How did he know

years ago,

contrary gender,

conversant German,

how did he know so well my heart my life myself and what it would be?

And what does he know? Does he know of these things too? Or is he a fool,

sent to fool me, sent to send me insane?

I wish I could ask him. I wish I could know what he knows.

But I do. In each poem, each penance

he left me. And I will read them. Everything. Every one

he left me.

Don’t leave me.