ten things about men (that i find sexy)

bolsa chica blurry huntington beach, ca july 2011

i read this and this last week, and i was motivated to write my own list.  it took awhile because i wanted to really reflect on the men ive met and the lessons ive learned and taught.

i thought about gender behavior and societal expectations.

and so i reread some of my own words, both in blog form and in journal form, and i came up with the following:

10.  their way with words

i find a man who can express himself in the written form completely and utterly sexy.  i have a few folders of two lovers ive had whose correspondence have mesmerized me.  i read them over in times of boredom, desperation, hurt.  memories, always all good, flood me and i allow myself to sit for awhile in that space.

9.  what they choose to share

the detective and i had dinner on his birthday last year.  things had begun to get really exciting physically, but when it came to the emotional, i held him off.  during dinner, he told me of a situation he found himself in 20 years ago, and he shared with me everything.  he mentioned that i was only the second person who knew of this besides his exwife.  i felt honored and closer to him than ever.  we didnt fuck that nite, but we did make love after.

8.  their pasttime

the hiker scored tickets to climb el capitan in yosemite.  the 32 year old loved the earth and gardening.  a lover who was an engineer drew and painted and hung up his art on his walls.  photographers.  musicians.  writers.  bikers.  book lovers. ive been priviledged to have them.

7.  the way they take care of the house or cars

when i had a checklist, i wanted a lover who was a handy man and a mechanic.  i love the way they tinker with "toys".  i love how they fix leaks or electrical problems.  i love how they get dirty.  i love how they take pride in their work.  and i can watch them for hours.  then id have to get my own hands dirty.

6.  the way they are with kids or animals

 its a totally different attitude.  loving.  playful.  sweet.  protective.  vulnerable.  mmmm...

5.  the books that they read and the music they listen to

it speaks volumes about a man which book he chooses to accompany him.  and their choice of music moves me.  especially when he shares.  john waters said this:  if you go home with somebody, and they don't have books, don't fuck 'em!'  noted.

4.  the change in their voices on the phone when they are speaking to me or to their mothers

i make great attempts not to call when i know they are with their friends, but on the occasion that they call me, their voices are softer.  whispered.  i can feel their smiles through the phone.  and when the irish spoke to his mother, who he had some residual resentment towards, he was almost always boyish.

3.  how they look after theyve done physical exercise

glowing.  flushed.  relaxed.  sexy.  masculine.

2.  the way they move when theyre in synch with me.

we walk step by step, like sexy jungle cats.  everything flows.  sex is communicating without words.  animalistic and primal.  sexy and raw.   silence is liberating.  touch is natural.  kissing is exhilarating.

1.  how they love and how they hurt

men who have learned by experience or intrinsically how to love fascinate me.  the great depths they take to show their love.  the gifts they give, small and significant.  letters, deep and moving.   what they do to talk to me.  to fuck me.  to see me.  the risks they take.  the choices they make.  the love they have.  and im equally intrigued by how they are when they are hurt.  the pain displayed on their faces.  how they make sense of it.  how they recover.  how they grieve.  how they close up.  how they turn to their friends.  how they release.  how they heal.  how they regroup.  how they surrender.

*****

 i went to two days of the parish mission, and i was struck by this quote by father pedro arrupe:

nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute final way. what you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. it will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, how you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.

love is not complicated.  love does not hurt.  love is good.

anything other than that is not from love.

breathe

mater dolorosa sierra madre, ca may 2012

last nite, the texan emailed me asking if i was feeling better from my cold.

i told him that i was, but lately, i have had trouble relaxing.

he wrote that i should breathe.

breathe.

inhale.

exhale.

mindfully, purposefully.

*****

i feel i am in a trance lately:  going to work, coming home, sleeping, going to work, coming home.

last weekend, i spent time with dapel and vansa for my birthday.

we had lunch at a restaurant that served good breakfasts, but at 2 pm, we were ordering some mac and cheese and salad.  i love salad.

after, we went to see a movie that i thought was really well done.  its up for an oscar for several categories, and im sure it will win something.

*****

this week brought the return of several buddies.  the texan, the santa monica guy, the midwestern guy, and the ever present editor.

i mean, come on.

the texan wrote to me of his dream, and i have to admit, i didnt read it all the way.  i read the first three lines, got a bit grossed out, then read the last line.  the things you learn in college.

he then mentioned how he never had a connection like ours, blah blah blah.

the truth is this.  i was deeply curious about him.  his voice had the slightest texan drawl, and when he called me darlin', i melted.  and he knew it.  he knew how to turn me into mush, and i let him.

but the nite we spent together was rather...he wanted it to be more of a connection than it really was.  he wanted to cuddle, to talk, to share.

and i did not.

in fact, he said, if youre going to be that far away from me on that side of the bed, darlin', i may as well be alone.

sorry, i replied.  im just used to turning over after ive cum.

but thats just it.  youve cum, and i havent.

you need to take care of that.

and i meant it literally.  he needed to take care of himself.

but it didnt work that way, and we finished off with him over me, my knees on his chest, his 6 feet 1 frame shadowing my 5 feet flat one.

it was uncomfortable while he watched me dress.  i remember making sure that i didnt forget my ring and necklace and bracelet because i had done that earlier in the year with another lover.

he walked me to my car, kissed me good bye, and he left for texas.

he confessed his feelings for me, and i asked him why now when he is in another state.  he said that it wasnt fair to me, that his job took up too much time from a real relationship, that i deserved more.

fuck yes, i deserve more.

besides, he wants to get married and have kids.  he told me he wanted me to come live with him in june, when my contract was over.

i fucking hate texas.  i do not like many of the people that have come from there ive met in the past.  i do not like the mentality and the attitude. i do not like the oppressive heat.  i do not like the fucking state.

so.  guess thats that.

*****

the samo guy, not the married one, but the hypersexed one, emailed me apologizing for his cowardice and for messing things up between us.

when i read the email, i laughed, then i felt so sorry for him.

are you kidding me?

although he has a nice body, he is a mess.

and we spoke about this recently.

i told him he needed help, i told him he needed to stop hiding, i told him he needed to start being honest with himself.

he agreed.  he said he wanted to hang out, but not yet, not when hes anxious.

he thanked me profusely for understanding, for being kind, and i rolled my eyes and emailed back two words:  youre welcome.

because what else?

hes got so much shit going on, and i dont want that energy mingling with mine when the truth is that hes too old to not know himself yet.

too damned old.

and i dont have time to take on new cases.

sorry.

good guy, but i dont like cowards.

*****
the midwestern guy, ever the champion of me finally getting laid, messaged me out of the blue.  he said he met someone, and they hung out.

i was happy for him, he deserved this because his wife is a fucking freak.

he asked me once why i didnt like her.

she seems too high maintenance, i told him.  she doesnt like to be touched, she doesnt like certain things.

i love pleasing her.

thats good.  shes lucky.  but she drives me crazy with all the shit you tell me.

shes just different.

that she is.

he is insistent that i get laid, and i told him about the editor, and i swear, he had a cheerleaders outfit on.

he wants you, he typed, go for it.  what are you waiting for?

a connection.  a chemistry.  a spark.

sometimes, youre not going to get all three.

wanna bet?  i wont settle for just one or two.

i want it all.  and ill wait.

that ended that.

*****
the editor is a romantic.

he declares his infatuation with me on a daily basis, consisting of four or five short emails in a row.

im suprised he doesnt combust from all the lust he has for me...just reading makes me wonder if hes actually writing to me...or if hes just writing.

i feel bad for this guy.

his wife is another one that seems uptight.  and i know im only getting one side of the story, but...

well.  the editor is in love with her.

at least thats what he claims.

i suggested  last nite that he go home and fuck her, and he took offense.

he thought i was angry and that i was annoyed by his advancements.

i had to explain that i wasnt angry, but i was merely suggesting.

and he said he doesnt want her.

he wants me.

ive asked him if i said anything that may have led him on, and he denied it.

so then what?

im lead to believe that im a figment of his imagination.  a creation for an alternate world.

because really?  what the fuck?

*****
i feel like im holding my breath.  i feel i have to remind myself to breathe.

i feel like i am not at ease, that i am always exhausted.

i wonder if its what i am and am not eating.

the weather is getting warmer.

i need to walk the rose bowl.

get some exercise in.

who knows.

maybe i just need to get laid.

or walk.

intensity

griffith park observatory griffith park, ca january 2013

everything seems so pure and unadulterated with him, which in itself is an irony.

this is where the problem lies.

i am coveting this man from his wife.

and again.  it isnt as if im new to this, and i dont say it with pride.

*****
my first affair was when i was 19, and he was 29...a doctor of pharmacy immersed in a fellowship at ucsd, and he was just beautiful.

he was dark haired, fair skinned, german accent, and eyes that undressed me whenever we got together and wherever.

there was a part of me that wanted to submissive to him, but i was petulant and wild, and he couldnt do anything about it except to watch me with amusement.

we didnt fuck.

but i gave him head, and from that, he came hard.  always.

a part of it was that i didnt want him to touch me because i was reeling still from the redhaired boys absence, and this guy...the doctor...well.

the attention was nice.

he took care of me, ordered for me, opened doors for me.  he moved my hair from my eyes, he kissed my tears, and he silently punished me for being too bratty.

he left san diego that summer we met, and he promised to contact me when he came back to the states.  he returned in february the following year, and i found myself traipsing around san francisco with him.

by then, my infatuation had been over.  to me, he was still beautiful, but there was an emptiness in his eyes.

he expressed his desire to fuck me, but i declined, even when he begged me to spend the nite with him.  it was easy to walk away.  i didnt really have any compassion for anything then.

*****
the next married man was the friend of my uncle with whom i was staying the following summer.

he was so sexy, but not conventional.  and he was filipino.

he oozed sexuality, i can feel his want of me whenever his family and my uncles family had parties, which seemed weekly.

he flirted with me subversively in front of his wife, and she was either clueless or in denial.

i hated him for that.

but i didnt reject his moves.

one weekend, we camped at the beach, and he asked me to go to the car with him to get an ice chest, and he came so close to me.  i backed away.  he pulled me closer.  i was breathing hard, nervous, excited, and his face was moving towards mine.

i broke away and yelled, youre married, dammit.

after that, i avoided him.  i was disgusted with myself.  and with him.  but mostly with myself because i may have let it go far.

*****
years later, after college, i met fp.  he was beautifully tattooed, eyes that were blue marble, and an insecurity so deep it was unattractive.

he fucked me on a table in my classroom, after he called me a chicken.

no one calls me a chicken.

we fucked several times, and several times, i left unsatisfied because he just wasnt good.

but the first time he kissed me, my knees were weak.  after that first time, i wanted to run.

again, it was the attention i craved.  he called me when he could, he met me when he could, he watched me when he could.

what finished it for me was when he called me from his home while his wife was home, too.  it was too stupid, and i hate stupidity.

*****
then after him, there were a few others.  none of significance.

the editor, though, constantly asks me to hang out with him, telling me that hes not pressuring me, but it is annoying.

he went away this past weekend with his wife, and he didnt contact me until days later.  i honestly thought he had given up.

before he left, he told me he imagined fucking me while he was in his wife, and i wrote to him, i find it sad.

he said he was angry about it, but that i was right.  the issues in his marriage were something he didnt want to face right now.  and thats fine with me.

however.

he thinks i can offer him something missing in his marriage.

i cannot.

ive told this to him many times, and i have asked for him to be platonic with me.

he tries.

i know he does.

but he cannot help himself.

he is a romantic, and i am impressed with that part of him.

*****
but.

this man that i have fallen in love with, that i have deeply rooted my soul with, that i have pledged allegiance to...

this man is someone who has captured my attention.

and my soul.

and the rest of my time here on earth.

even if it doesnt work out, i know that he will always be a part of me, no matter much hurt i will carry...

he will always be a part of me.

and i a part of him.

this distance is slowly killing me.

i die each nite, only to be resurrected by his voice or his words the following day.

weekends are hard.

i am in a trance.

and i let my insecurities surface.

i hate that.

i need to control it.

*****
the man is so fucking intense.

my skin will meld to his.

flesh to flesh.

our love bonds us.

soul to soul.

music reveals what we cannot.

lyric to lyric.

and i am hopelessly, helplessly, inconveniently, ridiculously consumed by him.

flight

carlsbad, ca march 2012

it was difficult last weekend, especially saturday.

his city was immobilized by the weather, and all weekend, i watched it on the news.  and on my coast, a stupid ass police killer was and is still on the loose, and i wonder what the hell is going on right now with our cities.

*****
i have had affairs with married men.

i met an editor on sunday whose wife was coming in on a flight from their hometown nyc.  he told me of his marital problems that dealt with sex, and i was blown away about the complaints.

not enough.

too vanilla.

infrequent.

and i mean.  she sounded uptight.  she needed it on certain days only.  she needed an emotional foreplay before.

hes a guy.  hes a caveman.

and he was charmed by me.  asked for my number.  gave him my email instead.

hes been emailing me.

hes a nice guy.  smart, funny, expressive.

and im not interested.

yeah, i respond.  its an ego thing, i guess.

*****
something happened last weekend.

i spiraled.  i ached for him so deeply, a place that ive never been to before.

my ego, my never failing whisper of all things impossible, was haunting.  i had visions of him and his wife reconciling.  it would have been romantic, you know?  a blizzard the cause of him and his wife and his little one to be together forever.  it is a total romance movie.

and it played in my head all weekend.  i know that the midwestern guy was a part of it.  he fed me scenarios.

he left trails of what ifs, and like an asshole, i followed them.

and i reached a point that scared me because i can let go now.

i can let go and grieve.  and it will take a long time.  it will be painful.  it will be maddening, but i can let go.

*****
theres a song he loves that he put on a cd he made for me in october.

ive been listening to it daily.

its by linkin park, and i love these lines:
i wanna heal, i wanna feel
what i thought was never real
i want to let go of the pain i felt so long
(erase all the pain till it's gone)

*****
plans are being made.

plans to be in one time zone.  plans to be in one shared bed.  plans to be under the same roof.

plans to unite and unite and unite again, to allow the flow between two lovers, to hold on and never let go.

plans to laugh and smile and touch and fuck and make love and learn and grow and sing and watch movies and photograph and walk and relax and sleep and rise and do it all again the next day.

plans.

he grounds me, he keeps me focused and balanced.

he is yin and i am yang.  i am fire and he is ice.  i am water and he is earth.  i am metal and he is wood.

i am wild and he is tame.  i am anxiety and he is calm.  i am words and he is paper.  i am and he is.

yet, we are from the same cloth.

we love.  we understand.  we are jealous.  we balance each other.  we depend on each other.  we connect in a transcendental way.  we evoke emotions and thoughts, sexual and non, with words and sounds.  we cheer each other on.  we grow closer with every argument, with every disagreement, with every rant and rave...

the love is so deeply rooted in our system.

its no longer me but us.  we are a pair.  and i cannot wait until i make love to his flesh.

44 / 20

sunset venice beach december 2012

a week ago, i celebrated my birthday in bed.

i had contracted a cold, and it still lingers today.

it started on friday, when i was at dinner with dapel.  i was sneezing and feeling weak, and i thought i shouldve gone home after work, but i wanted to finally go to the new eats that i read about months prior.

dinner was fast.  it was really savory, and because it was across from a major tv station, there were some beautiful people there.  it wasnt busy, thank God, because it really is small, but it was typical la.

it took me about an hour to drive home.  the friday traffic was bad but manageable, and when i got home, i took a hot shower and climbed into bed.

the next morning, i decided not to go to a conference for work.  i knew that i would feel awful later on that nite for my birthday dinner with the gang, so i slept in.

i took meds, napped, sneezed, and i felt sick.  so i took more meds.  napped.  sneezed.  willed myself to feel better.

when it was time to get ready for dinner, i put on a dress that i had worn for w one morning when i spent the nite.  the dress is flimsy, and over it, i put on a sweater and a jacket and a scarf to keep warm.  it showed more cleavage than i wanted, but i didnt care.  i wasnt feeling sexy at all.

dinner was a dtla pizzeria that vansa had chosen.  when i got there, vansa and verio were sitting at the bar.  vansa had told the bartender it was my birthday, so she greeted me as i sat down.

i asked her to make me a signature drink because at this point, i couldnt honestly think.  she made something pretty in a martini glass with a maraschino cherry inside.

gana and my friend walked in at this point, and it was just nice to be surrounded by friends.  i felt their love.  i felt our histories come together.

my friend looked unrecognizable.  he was sporting a graying beard and dressed too formally, but as always, he was striking.  of course he avoided me.  he tends to do this when we are with others.  he sits away from me and observes me.  laughs appropriately when i say something funny.  gives me a glare when ive crossed some line he set.

i asked for more cherries, and the bartender gave me more.  my friend looked over at me and said, hey, why dont you share?

i passed the cup to him.  he grabbed a few.  i asked for the cup back.  that was the extent of our conversation.

voski arrived late with his girlfriend.  the last time i saw him was three years ago, for my friends bday.  voski was 30 then, and he showed me his new tats.  he had waited, as requested by his mother, and he was proud of what he designed.  some leaves with a saying.

that nite was crazy.  it could have gone to a different path.  sexual tensions were high that nite, the same characters were there as at my birthday dinner, except for his girlfriend.

vansa and my friend made out in front of us, under the pretext of being a bit liquored up.  voski and i escaped, which made my friend question our "relationship".  nothing happened outside.  voski smoked, and i stood with him.  there was a flirtation, but when it was going a bit far, i backed off.

at dinner, voski was very close and affectionate with his girlfriend.  he is a natural talker, so the conversation flowed.  my friend was quiet.  gaya was telling us stories.  her tongue was guided by the strong drink the bartender made for her.  and verios was quiet as always.

after, voski suggested we go for drinks at the legendary hotel fig.  it was a nice walk a block away, even if we were stopped by homeless people asking for spare change.

we went to the back, and the site was amazing.  the decor was moroccan, and there was a bed for lounging. we sat at a table underneath layers of colorful sheets and the nite weather was perfect.

the waiter came to take our order, and he had the faintest accent.

wheres your accent from? i asked.

germany, he answered.

wonderful.  i have to confess, i asked you to repeat the drink specials because i wanted to hear your accent.

would you like to hear it a third time?

and he repeated it. 

voski leaned over to his girlfriend and said,  m has game.  im surprised she hasnt unleashed it yet.  waiters are her prey.

shes sick, otherwise, shed be all over it, said vansa.

oh, thats why shes on her best behavior, he said.

my friend was sitting next to me.  he started tapping his fingers.

bored? i asked.

no.  why?

because youre tapping.

this is what happens when youre always listening to music.

ah, ill keep that in mind. i pointed to his beard.  so, this is new.

yeah, ive had it since december 23rd.

really?  its full.  is it itchy?

no.

is the hair coarse?

he gave me his cheek.  i ran my hands through his beard.

its soft,i said.

he gave me his chin.  i touched the fuzziness under it.

i like it, i said.  its in, you know.  this beard thing.  voski has a good one, too.  it fits him.  yours make you look distinguished.

thank you.

we finished up and walked back to the parking garage.

vansa and i walked together, my friend walked ahead.

she asked me, so, when are you going to boston?

summer, i think.  my friend slowed his pace.

summer?  thats so far, she said.

its not my idea.

why not spring break?

he doesnt want me there then.  my friend stopped to look at something.

i think youre stalling, she said.

im not.  i swear.  he doesnt want me there.  if i go in the summer, you have to come with me.  because it may not work out the way i want with him.  we can see the city together.

of course, itll work out, she said, convincingly.

we got to the valet, and they brought out our cars.

we said our goodbyes, and i was touched again by them coming.

the next day, my friend said that he was done with group dinners and that next time, it will just be me and him.

he said he and i have evolved to that.

*****
twenty years ago tonite, i was laid up in a hospital room with a baby boy in my arms.  he was born at 7:42 pm, and he was beautiful.  sweet.  sleepy.

tonite, he had plans to celebrate with his friends who are chinese.  he called me in the middle of the chinese new year dinner they were having to tell me that his boss called because they needed him to work.

he needed a ride back home.

i picked him, and he was upset.

this isnt how i was planning on celebrating my bday, he said.

i dont understand.  were you supposed to work tonite?

no.  the schedule didnt have my name on it.  i confirmed with three managers, and they said i wasnt working.

did you request this nite off?

no.

then what happened?

my boss called and said they were short staffed.  he said i was supposed to be in.

look, matt.  youre not a victim.  you could have said you were out of town.  why didnt you?

because they needed someone.

so you volunteered?

yes.

well, then, thats what happened.  they didnt force you.  you made a choice.

yeah.

this kid is amazing.  i mean, i see the growth in him, the transition between a boy and a man.  he plays video games to relax, but hes very responsible with school and work.  very balanced.

but of course, in the midst of the craziness, i didnt tell him that.  i didnt tell him how proud i am of him.  i didnt tell him how much i love him.

instead we talked about how we are when we are stressed.  there was a lot of yelling.  a lot of correcting.  a lot of disconnection.

but on saturday after i get off work, he and i are going out to lunch to celebrate our birthdays.  and i will write to him a letter like ive done in the previous years.

i love this child of mine so much.  i love how he is.

and our relationship will be stronger.

city of angels

la sunset from the griffith park observatory jan 2013

i havent photographed.

and ive been 44 for six days, and tomorrow, my son will be 20.

its beautiful out...large billowy clouds holding lots of rain, some parts cloudy, other parts sunny.  and its cold.

i wouldnt mind, except im trying to get over a wicked illness that has run through my sinuses and is now in my chest.  last nite, i woke myself up choking on a dry throat.

and it wasnt fun going to dinner feeling all sick.  but the company on my birthday were the ones who i love alot in my circle of friends.

we went to a new pizzeria in dtla, had some pizza and salad and drinks....then we went to hotel figueroa to get more drinks.

it was a beautiful, balmy nite, and i was happy.

*****

except, i wish he were with us.

i wish he were walking with us, laughing with us...

and after, i would have shown him my dtla.  all the places ive found when i intentionally got lost.  all the treasures in the scary streets.  and i want to photograph with him.

so, yesterday, when we were talking, i said, just to be with you, i could die happy.

he said, no, dont say that.  thats like what happened to meg ryan.

in the city of angels.

i love that movie.  for many reasons, but the first and foremost is the ending.

to die happy.  to die before one gets too old.  to die in the arms of the one you love.  to be loved.

and how he loves me.

this man takes my breath away, and when i am on the phone with him, its as if the distance between us is nonexistent.

he used the word transcendental once.

and many times after.

its perfectly fitting to describe what has transpired.

*****

i wish i can remember all that we talk about in a day, starting from when he wakes me up to the last call of the day.

i wish i can remember the plans, the affection, the words.

i wish i can remember how many times we tell each other we love each other...

the love i have for him frees me from who i was before, the woman who didnt believe, who didnt expect, and more importantly, who didnt want.

i had no time for this business of partnership, of love.

i remember when the detective hurt my feelings when he was candid about how i didnt need love, that i thought it was silly to need someone to share my life with.

he was right.  he was absolutely right.

and it hurt.

it made me look at myself in an honest way.  it made me reflect back on all the psuedo situations ive had, and i asked myself if i was indeed resistant.

and i was.

i still am.

i only want one.

thats all i need.

my psychological make up has been altered by the love i have for this man, and i must say, i am happy.

*****

his city is being hit by a terrible blizzard.

he was telling me a bit about the road conditions earlier today, when i said, and you want me to live there?

if you like snow and cold, he said.

i dont like it.  ive become a cali girl, and i love the weather here.  but i know i have to move there.  should i buy some winter clothes now when it goes on sale?  and in case it doesnt work, ill donate it to goodwill or something.

and we laughed it off.

just like that.

*****

the flow between us has been so sweet and easy.

there was a shift, i believe, when he began to have an truthful relationship with himself.  this was a few weeks back when he hit a stumbling back, and he got up a different man.

stronger.  braver.  more truthful.

and i know its hard.

when i began my journey into my truth, the Uni-verse cleaned out my proverbial life closet.  he took out who and what no longer served me.

the first to go were the fatty bitch and the 200 lb loser.  then it was my job at the high school.  what i realize now in retrospect is that every one that came after the 200 lb loser were cleaned out immediately without any of the drag that i allowed with him.

the longest situations were the hiker and the detective.  i think i had a few times with the 31 year old and with others that i cannot and do not remember now.

they are in the past.

and if i had to go through them to get where i am now with who i am now and as i am now, i will do it.

*****

work has been a struggle.

i feel like a phony, a person dressed as a teacher without being aligned to what this district believes in.

i do not believe in standardized tests.  they dont measure a student.  they dont measure progress because the students are not all at the same starting point.  they cant finish at the same finish line.

i have students who are not good at tests, but they can talk about the nfl players and their stats.  who the fuck goes to bars and talk about sumerians?

i have students who are artists and are creative, but they dont know how to regroup.  who the fuck stands around at dinner parties talking about erosion and the water cycle?

i have students who would rather read than do homework, but they dont know how to write a complete sentence.  who the fuck has a dinner date and discuss proportions?

i mean, come on!!!

yes, i understand there is a need to teach these random, boring subjects, but im not buying it.  im educated, and you know what i love talking to my friends about?  movies.  music.  the cute guy with the hot ass on the wednesday nite show.  the stupid bitch gossip guy who is worse than a middle school girl.

what i teach is this:  respect.  respect for others.  respect for education.  respect for life.  respect for self.  they love the stories i tell them of former students and how they got up when they were down.

this crap that im uselessly stuffing down their throats?

it makes me just as sick.

and i have to go back to Source, to my God, and i have to speak with Him about how lost i am, about how deeply disappointed in myself i am at failing Him, and i have to be honest with Him and tell Him that i do not know where i belong.

i am a good educator.  but i am failing these kids by cramming this stuff in their minds.  i am failing them by testing and testing and testing.

my students are more than percentages.  they are more than 31 fucking questions.

they are more.

and i am, too.

muse

usa, part griffith park observatory, griffith park, ca january 2013

there is something about this man that moves me.

he is so fucking beautiful, and even though we are separated by that land mass up there, i know one thing:  i am his.

i love him.

i love him with the breath inside of me.  i love with him with my minds eye, with my heart that is so full of hope and of acceptance about him.

and dear God, i love him in a way that ive always wanted to love.

he is my muse.

my words flow because of his essence, my thoughts are solely his, and my body, my body that once cant be sated, belongs to him.

and i am pulled in two directions.  pulled to join him physically.  and pulled to wait, to be patient, to listen to God saying to watch for Divine timing.

*****
i think about all the others who have come before.

some were tepid.

others were intense.

intensity in writing.  in sex.  in connection.

but there was always something not right.

there was always a moment when i knew that the fit was off.  that we didnt belong with each other.

ive been so fortunate.  blessed beyond belief that i have had those experiences.  ive had the chance to be with some great lovers, good men, sexy men...and some boys...

but this man.

i want him.

and him alone will do.