Qual piuma al vento
Sep. 16th, 2013 01:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kingtycoonAnd when you wish it, there’s a weekend. I needed to sleep and that’s what I did most of all. I made a little something for my magic scrapbook, and I slept. Young Agatha was not feeling well and neither was I. The interplay of shadow and wind makes our house the chilliest of the houses in the building, which some might enjoy but which neither of us like to tolerate. We huddled under blankets by the heater and watched the Last Unicorn. Actually we watched a million things, the same things that she watches again and again in the manner of a frustrated man trying to cripple an expired horse, but whatever, children. Children need to learn the tropes I guess. Anyway we watched the Last Unicorn just for specialtimes and spent Saturday mainly sneezing indoors. Sunday was better – we went to my mother’s house to spend time with my sister, her husband and their baby. I can’t explain how much I love a baby – and Agatha played with the baby – which was sort of wrenching, to see how small my little niece is and how big my little daughter is – we checked and she is 4’11” – which still doesn’t seem big, but I am tall. There was dinner and that is all.
I’d like to pretend that I want more from my weekends than this, that adventure & excitement aren’t just disused musty old ideas but that’s simply not true. I’m thinking – planning maybe – about when it is that I’ll come alive – in a real sense, come alive and go-do-live. Probably in a year or two, I have ideas. Meantime I have anchors and a substantial weight on me, a gravity that keeps me home and so I stay home, we stay home. I’m self conscious or worried about this sometimes – I try to provoke her to activity, or action, she’s reticent. I worry – “Are you getting bored? Aren’t you bored?” She never is, I never am, neither of us want a thing – what does that mean? Maybe this is just a moment where we’ll be idlers – which is a fine circumstance but I wonder or am anxious also. Internal dreamworlds – is this acceptable? We speculate and think and are resting, we’re both recovering from our weeks by withdrawing – we’re alike in these qualities. I anticipate a time, when she is older & goes running off with her friends, deeming her old-pop a square, a boring old jerk, ready to go out and participate with things and people. I look forward to this though – I think I’ll then come alive, get into my own runaround. It’s a complex matter, being alive and understanding what it even is to be alive.
I looked at all my ties rolled up in their drawer and was a little sad that I have given up a bit, on wearing them – the fashion being out of fashion – in my estimation – I think that moment is somewhat passed, or the moment of all my mainstays, I always consider a new appearance, and sometimes have one – but appearances and propriety aside – something there is that loves to wear a tie. I need a little formalism and ritual right now – too many things are amorphous or unscheduled. Too many things are entirely up to the moment’s spurring and – me, far from ever anxious, me-am-is-are – kind of dizzy and drawn apart.
At my father’s house I mentioned how I always got upset, like irrationally upset when my kid shows me the bottoms of her feet. I straight up do – I mean, not just her, but we’re in proximity so it comes up. I say: “Why would you disrespect me like that, trying to put your feet on me!” She doesn’t get it. I mention it to him – “Did I learn that from you? Father? Father?” He laughs at me and says no – that’s for the other Arabs – “But you know, when I was young, someone told me that if you see two shoes lying there… you know, next to each other, if you see it, you know there will be a fight. So I don’t like it, if I see this I worry there is a fight, so I can’t let it be.” I don’t want to see the bottoms of shoes lying on the ground side by side either – I don’t. Bottoms of your shoes, bottoms of your feet – don’t show me that you savage. Have some civility. And whatever, yes, yes I understand. It’s a weird world and the things that matter in it are weird.
Who amongst us could have known that there would be a thing in the world that mattered, that meant you would become upset or disagreeable? Who knew that you could grow into these preferences, have these expectations? Don’t show me the bottoms of your feet, if you don’t want to fight me, don’t roll your eyes at me if you don’t want the back of your head slapped (other adults, not my child – understand, she doesn’t do that). Don’t ever throw sarcasm at me if you expect me to talk to you again, or respond. Don’t yell at strangers on the bus if you don’t want me to threaten you. “I’ll kick the life out of you. If you think I won’t just go ahead and stay on this bus.”
Not that I’d kill anyone. I wouldn’t never, but I… I don’t know. I think about this, having preferences, growing into expectations – and this, I think is a matter of some moment, thinking of the people who have a belief and stand by it, who fight or kill or die for a belief – belief being a justification for preferences it becomes the license to recruit people to your mode of preference.
Then I realize that I’m past due some affection, and as always I remain monstrous and only want the affections of ladies that I’ve not already had the affection of. A grim preference that molds my belief. I anymore am chiefly and best recognized as the Duke of Mantua from Rigoletto. La Donna e mobile.
So maybe it’s best I stay inside and leave off my impropriety, stave off the inevitability of heartbreaking behavior, grasp in every direction all at once and have and do the things at hand that need attending and not grasp at a new adventurous folly. No hearts were broken in the course of this weekend, and so, acclaim me lawful.
I’d like to pretend that I want more from my weekends than this, that adventure & excitement aren’t just disused musty old ideas but that’s simply not true. I’m thinking – planning maybe – about when it is that I’ll come alive – in a real sense, come alive and go-do-live. Probably in a year or two, I have ideas. Meantime I have anchors and a substantial weight on me, a gravity that keeps me home and so I stay home, we stay home. I’m self conscious or worried about this sometimes – I try to provoke her to activity, or action, she’s reticent. I worry – “Are you getting bored? Aren’t you bored?” She never is, I never am, neither of us want a thing – what does that mean? Maybe this is just a moment where we’ll be idlers – which is a fine circumstance but I wonder or am anxious also. Internal dreamworlds – is this acceptable? We speculate and think and are resting, we’re both recovering from our weeks by withdrawing – we’re alike in these qualities. I anticipate a time, when she is older & goes running off with her friends, deeming her old-pop a square, a boring old jerk, ready to go out and participate with things and people. I look forward to this though – I think I’ll then come alive, get into my own runaround. It’s a complex matter, being alive and understanding what it even is to be alive.
I looked at all my ties rolled up in their drawer and was a little sad that I have given up a bit, on wearing them – the fashion being out of fashion – in my estimation – I think that moment is somewhat passed, or the moment of all my mainstays, I always consider a new appearance, and sometimes have one – but appearances and propriety aside – something there is that loves to wear a tie. I need a little formalism and ritual right now – too many things are amorphous or unscheduled. Too many things are entirely up to the moment’s spurring and – me, far from ever anxious, me-am-is-are – kind of dizzy and drawn apart.
At my father’s house I mentioned how I always got upset, like irrationally upset when my kid shows me the bottoms of her feet. I straight up do – I mean, not just her, but we’re in proximity so it comes up. I say: “Why would you disrespect me like that, trying to put your feet on me!” She doesn’t get it. I mention it to him – “Did I learn that from you? Father? Father?” He laughs at me and says no – that’s for the other Arabs – “But you know, when I was young, someone told me that if you see two shoes lying there… you know, next to each other, if you see it, you know there will be a fight. So I don’t like it, if I see this I worry there is a fight, so I can’t let it be.” I don’t want to see the bottoms of shoes lying on the ground side by side either – I don’t. Bottoms of your shoes, bottoms of your feet – don’t show me that you savage. Have some civility. And whatever, yes, yes I understand. It’s a weird world and the things that matter in it are weird.
Who amongst us could have known that there would be a thing in the world that mattered, that meant you would become upset or disagreeable? Who knew that you could grow into these preferences, have these expectations? Don’t show me the bottoms of your feet, if you don’t want to fight me, don’t roll your eyes at me if you don’t want the back of your head slapped (other adults, not my child – understand, she doesn’t do that). Don’t ever throw sarcasm at me if you expect me to talk to you again, or respond. Don’t yell at strangers on the bus if you don’t want me to threaten you. “I’ll kick the life out of you. If you think I won’t just go ahead and stay on this bus.”
Not that I’d kill anyone. I wouldn’t never, but I… I don’t know. I think about this, having preferences, growing into expectations – and this, I think is a matter of some moment, thinking of the people who have a belief and stand by it, who fight or kill or die for a belief – belief being a justification for preferences it becomes the license to recruit people to your mode of preference.
Then I realize that I’m past due some affection, and as always I remain monstrous and only want the affections of ladies that I’ve not already had the affection of. A grim preference that molds my belief. I anymore am chiefly and best recognized as the Duke of Mantua from Rigoletto. La Donna e mobile.
So maybe it’s best I stay inside and leave off my impropriety, stave off the inevitability of heartbreaking behavior, grasp in every direction all at once and have and do the things at hand that need attending and not grasp at a new adventurous folly. No hearts were broken in the course of this weekend, and so, acclaim me lawful.
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no subject
Date: 2013-09-16 06:28 pm (UTC)--This is something that sounds nice right now. I am very certainly wishing I had spent more of my weekend at home, alone, or curled up with the kids, I'm thinking I need to just cave into these urges and get a cat and stay in more. And to stop thinking that there is anything wrong with that. I think that there are times in life for going out a lot and doing, and there are times for staying in and...being. And I am clearly in a time of being right now, and yet I push myself to keep 'doing' for the sake of...what? Appearing young? Not stagnating, I guess. I have little fear of that now, I know I won't/can't stagnate, and yet I am constantly fighting that in any case.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-16 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-19 06:00 pm (UTC)In my prior relationship (with J) he was probably even more solitary than I was, and that made it so that I was often seeking out his attention or time in the beginning. After a while we developed a rhythm that worked for us with spending time together and apart. Even when we were in the same house together, we'd often be doing separate things, which at times made me feel that we lacked intimacy, but I actually think that was because we *did* lack intimacy. If we could have had the same amount of time and space together/apart, but with more emotional intimacy when we were spending time together, it would have been a better situation for me & the relationship overall.
no subject
Date: 2013-09-17 10:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-17 03:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-09-17 03:12 pm (UTC)