Pining for Navarre

LETTERS
Friday, August 29, 2014

I think of you often. More than I care to admit.
It is the end of August … and I wonder about you. What you are thinking, there in your workshop. What your hands are creating?
I wonder if you think of me and then I know … of course! I planted seeds within you that are sure to grow … with time … and patience.
There is so much to this life we live. So much … unspoken. So much … unseen.
I think that IF I could only see you in person … then … I would know … I would
know …
But, this … right here is the best thing of all. For now. Going by … intuition.
Knowing that your intelligence is worth more than … more than … more than a
physical temporary pleasure. Of course, that counts for me as well (but less so - smile).
Neeeeely, what have your eyes captured of nature. The flowers and colors
you shared so generously with me.
What … have you seen?
Does ‘she’ obstruct your view? Still?
Do you … dance? Will you … hold me close to you?
Will you ALWAYS be afraid of me? What a shame.
I know that we have to meet in person … to dispel our respective demons about each other. We have too.

Saturday, August 30, 2014
I’ve decided I like men’s slender fingers. Not meaty. No necessarily long.
But … substantial … in a working way. Fingers somewhat like that of my Father.
His fingers are NOW, evenly colored, finely colored even (is there a word for that combination?) long and thin.
Louis’s fingers look nothing like the hand that once slapped my face.
They look delicate (painfully so). In pose, they lie about a life in
construction and on a sharecropping farm.

Neeeeely, I looked at a picture of your hands today. Your short fingers are pale, with your ruddy background skin. Your right thumb and forefinger … abraded … by work, and working in your workshop as well … no doubt.
Today, Neeeeely, I sorta … crave you … and a touch I never elicted from
you.
I imagine the roughness of those fingers, delicately touching my face.
Let me stop here before I sink lower into sentimental … nothingness.
Go to bed Adrienne. It is better to be unconscious.

August 31, 2013

Watched the German movie, ‘Wings of Desire’ which ‘City of Angels’ HAD to be modeled off of. Oh Hollywood.

Things I noticed this Sunday morning:
Raindrops on the window coming out of my bedroom.
The coolness, darkness and envelopment of my ‘Bat Cave.’
A ship approaching from a distance.
A small boat ripping the river water in the distance.
My neighbor’s television show reflected in my window.
Flies stuck to the fly paper.
A rogue fly on the cabinet … looking at me and the ‘dead ones.’
I stepped to avoid the area of that a moth took cover some days ago.
The feel of the leather carpet under my feet.
The sturdy hardness of the small hassock.
The imposition of the gaudy sticky flypaper at my front picture window.
The skies greying in anticipation of rain.
The dirty interior of my mocassins.
The ease in cutting my potatoes.
The large mountain of potatoes from just two potatoes.
My inability to go back to sleep after starting an important post on FB.
Thinking around 5:45 that you get up soon.
There are hardly no flies on the flypaper in the downstairs bathroom.
I always have to poop again after stimulating my anus.
That this movie is the best … it’s the last in the bunch.
My breasts are big and good looking.
My breasts are seductive, sexy.
Panties on my head.
I like the chair near the door. I like sitting theres.
I wish there was a plug to plug in my iPhone closer to the door.
The air feels good.
Watching the bridge for people walking by at 5am.
I should put on my bra. Nahhh, I will wear this top.
I constantly edit. That is what writers do!
I have to save them.
Kant’s (he was a bigot too) Categorical Imperatives. Am I acting out of purity?
Nothing is pure.
No! I do not want riches necessarily. I do want to save Black males, especially
my own.
I do not need validation from FB’ers for my posts.
The pleasure of being 60 or even me, is that I am confident … when necessary.
I hear a drone!
I hope the UN asks me to speak before the General Assembly.

September 1, 2014
I thought to send (wow, the word ‘end’ typed up first, a Freudian slip?) you a text, stating, how wonderful it is that you continue to ignore me; it it only makes ME want you more! LOL
Decided against it! Being the “scaredy-cat” you are.

I am sitting here typing this and laughing to myself. Ahh, being in my lonesome … brings out both the creative and the … wack-a-doodle … in me.

My son stopped by last night. We went to dinner - late.
I watched the director’s commentary of the movie, ‘Wings of Desire’ which was very informative. I mentioned earlier, ‘City of Angels’ which WAS the Hollywood version of the movie!
I like the black and whiteness of that movie and the subtitled thoughts/poetry
treatment.

September 2, 2014
I am always surprised at the small amount of phlegm that can cause so much … distress. In other words, I just sneezed.
I dreamt of a horse this morning. I dreamt that I (conceivably) got a horse for
you. The horse was in the backyard of my Grandma Bonnie’s house on Osceola, near the old neighbors, the Greens, fence. I wanted to surprise you (or someone) with this marvelous gift.
(I notice I go back to that backyard … a lot in dreams, even though the Greens are long gone, as well as my Grandma Bonnie).
I made a point of telling the others (?) in the dream to NOT stand where you
could see them when you drove up in your car (maybe it was for Hamilton - other BF)
because I wanted it to be a total surprise. It was!
You (or someone) mentioned that you wanted a table. That that table was at
the top of your list … your birthday list? AND, I said, the horse was a bolder move.
Anyone can get a table. But, a horse!? Come on. You know you love it. And you said resignedly … ‘Yes, I do.”
Of course, I immediately looked up the meaning of dreaming of horses. It is a
good-great omen!
(Power, independence, free, strong, success in business dealings, fulfilling a
quest/role empowerment).
Neeeely …. be happy with the horse. I am! Now … who is going to feed it. I did not get any ‘horse’ food laughing! Gawd.

September 4, 2014
Questions:
Why do the scullers row backward, yet know where they are going?
Why do birds fly in groups of mainly 7, at an angle (2 or 3 on the right
angle)?
Why do some of the ‘loner’ birds appear to try to catch up with the flock?
Why is solitude a treasure except if you are a serial killer or other social deviant?
Maybe that is not the question to ask, Solitude, at least my solitude is at times … a painful creative, mind flushing … burden. I crave that which I push so handily … away.
I fear what I used to hear the ‘old’ people say … that I will become (am) “set in
my ways.”
I have no patience.
I abhor stupidity … loudly.
I name call in my car.
I flip ‘off’ or’out’ toooo easily!
I do not like being inconvenienced … at all … for the most part.
I really think my time is … precious. I want it respected (hey, that’s not a bad
thing).

Masculine train horns yell, scoring the effacing span of morning; piercing (my
bubble of sleep) my treasured unconscious with dissolving bravado as the train moves along its linear way.

Neeeeely … you-are-my-muse.
Would that scare you to hear that?
If I text you NOW and just said … Good Morning … would THAT connecting …
throw you asunder?
I think of doing it.
I don’t do it.
What if … you are ugly in person. Too … skinny? Too … gaunt?

Although, the ‘hungry wolf’ wants you very, very bad; so
you must have … something a woman wants … needs … besides her money
back. But, she GAVE you money … again. Wow.
Not my business … is it?
What about your bad teeth? Can I kiss you?
What about your attitude? Your insecurities? You not being able to fathom my … assertiveness?
I scare you! What’s up with that white man?!
Why am I more of a ‘white man’ … than you?
I secretly and not, hope that I do not like you in person. That when I see you I can think, my Gawd, that woulda been a mistake.

Then, I know that when I do see you in person … I will not separate from you.
Which one … is the scarier proposition …
for me?

Lyrics from the movie, ‘The Broken Circle Breakdown.’ Awesome!

“If I needed you, would you come to me,
Would you come to me, for to ease my pain?
And if you needed me
I would come to you
I would swim the seas for to ease your pain.
In the night forlorn and the morning’s born
And the morning shines with the lights of love
You will miss sunrise, if you close your eyes
That would break my heart in two.
If I needed you, would you come to me,
Would you come to me, for to ease my pain?
And if you needed me
I would come to you
I would swim the seas for to ease your pain.
Lady’s with me now since I showed her how
To lay her lilly hand in mine
Who would not agree, she’s a sight to see
And a treasure for the poor to find.
If I needed you, would you come to me,
Would you come to me, for to ease my pain?
And if you needed me, I would come to you,
I would swim the seas for to ease your pain.”
-Townes Van Zandt

September 5, 2014
The fervor over you is … fading. That high school girl fever of ‘wanting’ you …
wanting to fuck you … is fading.
I wonder if I am giving up or giving in or what. Yet, I am still writing to you.
Now, a settled, womanly attitude overcomes me. One of acceptance … of
me … of you. One of knowing that not everything I want … is necessarily right for
me (Cutie, Marty) but serves to open closed doors/gates within me, that I
thought were closed or nonexistent.
I was so … into you. Thinking about you everyday, moments.
I called out to you … you did not answer … Wow!
I wonder if … you are too ‘old’ for me. Too traditional. Too … set in your ways :)
I still want you … BUT … on my terms.
I still want you … BUT … I do not NEED you to go on.
Lesson(s) … learned.

Last night before going to sleep I realized that I will still have many lovers in my
life … if I so choose.
I will!
I will have those whom I choose, those who find me quite the prize. I finally
realized … that I am not invisible.
My LOVE ‘life’ is not over.
My passions, my sensualness … are here … in full.

Perhaps, it was the man admiring me at the library (that day, that moment).
He kept his eyes on me and regarded me as a man regards a woman of sexual and attractive interest.
I ignored him … but I was VERY aware of him … watching me … regarding me.
He would look at me … from across the library and smile … move his head in that
way of … approval and … ADMIRATION. Thank you Sir!
Of note, that was a day that I was … into me. I approved of me. I walked with
the assurance of … me.
I did that before I left the house. I thought those
thoughts.
I … was … me!

September 8, 2014
I asked Lisa the Tarot card reader:
Does he think about me? Yes! He does!
And I am happy … for the moment.

I love four men, and wrote that declaration … in Russian! (Gawd) (laughing).
издалека
издалека
я-люблю-тебя …
Я ЛЮБЛЮ ТЕБЯ!
от безопасности далекой-не-расстоянии
я держу свои слова и похвалы … (и подобных)
как руки,
вокруг меня … окутал
… Для меня
… Это … достаточно
я С U …
от … издалека.
мои любови: Джим, Стив, Джеффри и Дэвид.
издалека
издалека
я-люблю-тебя …
Я ЛЮБЛЮ ТЕБЯ!
от безопасности далекой-не-расстоянии
я держу свои слова и похвалы … (и подобных)
как руки,
вокруг меня … окутал
… Для меня
… Это … достаточно
я С U …
от … издалека.
мои любови: Джим, Стив, Джеффри и Дэвид.
from afar
from afar
i-love-you … 
I LOVE YOU!
from the safety of a distant-non-distance
i hold your words and praises … (and likes)
like arms
around me … enfolded
… for me
… it is … enough
i c u … from … afar.

And you Fisher, are the only man I have EVER envied … with my face pressed against the window of your life baby.
You know how to live.

October 17, 2014

Neeeeeely …
Time did as time does …
lessened your nonexistent hand on my emotional animus.
Whew!
I realize … that my personality, being and intuitive sense are ,,, too LARGE … for you.
That is not wrong … nor right … it just is,

Until … recently … I confided in you.
I wanted someone intelligent to ‘talk’ to.
I continued a conversation … without you.
Meaning …
I occasionally referenced your …
inspirational “clarity by subtraction,” your ‘Frog Park,’ your maple leaf, your “I know that you know” Esperanza Spaulding, FLOWERS, and other thoughtful artifacts of Neeeeely..
Not obsessively … just perusing residual cognitive you … so to speak.
I did not want to let the conversations go.

Now … I have.

This very LAST piece … about you … is for you.
I wrote it in March 2014 … while in San Francisco.
You … the introvert … should perhaps see your impact … through the lenses of an (ex)-(in)-trovert (I have my moments).

I … listened … to you AND … appreciated the richness of you … without ever laying eyes upon you.
That is growth … on my part.

Please view it as a gift to one whom I shall not meet yet whose imprint remains.
I would be remiss to not share with you … the goodness I discovered in getting to know you.
Life is such a short journey.
I have no regrets.

You do not need to respond.

Again … I wish you happiness and peace.

Sweetie, did you notice that on the left side of the maple leaf, on the inferior aspect, almost near the front tip, resides a small bead of water … that reflects and contains … the universe. Wow!
That picture is … forever you. Thank you.

Namaste & Ciao.
Adrienne