There is a boy at my work.
I want to whisper songs into his ear, awful 80s hairmetal ballads, tropey, cheesy octave shattering sonnets.
I want to find out what his favorite cake is, and bake it, and watch him lick the frosting from the big wooden spoon as we wait for the cake to cool.
I want to lay somewhere sun dappled, my head on his chest, while clouds whip across the sky.
I want him to tell me something small, and magical, and simple.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
DNB (a quote)
From "Tell Me You Love Me"
John: I had a marriage too you know, and it was a good one. But it wasn't a love affair.
May: Most marriages aren't. They're much more.
John: I had a marriage too you know, and it was a good one. But it wasn't a love affair.
May: Most marriages aren't. They're much more.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Dear Next Boyfriend,
DNB,
"Do not marry your fortunes to anyone unless they are willing to be your devoted, synergistic warrior as much as you are willing to be their devoted, synergistic warrior"- Rob Brezny
Yes, yes, and yes.
I want enthusiasm. Excitement. An overload of overjoyed. I want cant sleep wont sleep dont sleep, red, blurred eyes, conversations that go on for days. that veer and rollercoaster between dimensions and diversions and dreams and desires and planes of reality. Jokes and looks and dances in the street, in our sleep, a dueling two step, two step one and two one and...
I want us to think of one another in a context beyond one another.
Can't we be kind? Can't we be generous? Can't we avoid dissolving into lies and deceit and single minded self interest? Can't our ideals be actions?
Can't we talk?
I want us to be paying attention. To notice. To hold a hand when we see it wants holding. Can't we be equals? Can't we be partners?
Can't we be devoted synergistic warriors?
(Cause.. um, I've already got the warrior sword...)
Love,
Tori
"Do not marry your fortunes to anyone unless they are willing to be your devoted, synergistic warrior as much as you are willing to be their devoted, synergistic warrior"- Rob Brezny
Yes, yes, and yes.
I want enthusiasm. Excitement. An overload of overjoyed. I want cant sleep wont sleep dont sleep, red, blurred eyes, conversations that go on for days. that veer and rollercoaster between dimensions and diversions and dreams and desires and planes of reality. Jokes and looks and dances in the street, in our sleep, a dueling two step, two step one and two one and...
I want us to think of one another in a context beyond one another.
Can't we be kind? Can't we be generous? Can't we avoid dissolving into lies and deceit and single minded self interest? Can't our ideals be actions?
Can't we talk?
I want us to be paying attention. To notice. To hold a hand when we see it wants holding. Can't we be equals? Can't we be partners?
Can't we be devoted synergistic warriors?
(Cause.. um, I've already got the warrior sword...)
Love,
Tori
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Dear Next Boyfriend,
DNB,
If traveling has taught me anything, its this:
You better like grit in your teeth,
calloused feet,
and the taste and smell of garlic*,
if we are ever going to make this work.
I can't wait to meet you.
Love,
Tori
*(and I mean, everything tasting and smelling like garlic. Everything. Ya hear me?)
If traveling has taught me anything, its this:
You better like grit in your teeth,
calloused feet,
and the taste and smell of garlic*,
if we are ever going to make this work.
I can't wait to meet you.
Love,
Tori
*(and I mean, everything tasting and smelling like garlic. Everything. Ya hear me?)
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Dear Next Boyfriend (Past- Present)
DNB,
An excerpt from 2003:
"I find myself waiting for a knock at the door. Someone to walk in, familiar and sure, and to sit down next to me, as if they have before. A stranger who knows the linear inequalities of my face, traces the invisible bruise of muscle and tendon stretched taunt below my skin, holds my hands shaking and tense.
And my name is a pattern on their lips, well worn, wishful, welcome, no longer discordant.
And they keep it close, next to their own. A symbolic symphony."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is strange to not have you here. I feel like I am giant-stepping into my (our?) future soon, with an empty hand that yours should twine and twin with. Though the idea is as abstract as your existence currently is, and despite my complete faith and perseverance in the pursuit of my own desires, it brought me to irreconcilable tears the other night, quiet, shaking sobs in the dark, completely out of character.
We should be shoulder to shoulder, maps laid out, taking notes, charting the stars, deciding and dreaming. "Keep your eyes peeled", you should be whispering, "you don't want to miss whats next."
But each path has a purpose; maybe this one has two: turning thought into action (the dirt in my hands, the concrete pounding shock waves through my legs, the sky ever expanding, stepping off a ledge and finding wings where there once were just weights) and you. Could you be a purpose? I think I'd like to call you "promise", but you are definitely not the "point" (you should know by now, I'll never be that girl).
I think promise fits. Its what I offer, its what I should expect ("We accept the love we think we deserve").
I am though, no longer sitting still, hands clasped and face expectant, awaiting arrival. Soon this promise will be set in motion, covering ground, taking in new territory. Soon this promise will be unstoppable. Soon this promise will grow. These are all things you should look forward to.
"Keep your eyes peeled", I whisper, "you don't want to miss what's next"
Love,
Tori
An excerpt from 2003:
"I find myself waiting for a knock at the door. Someone to walk in, familiar and sure, and to sit down next to me, as if they have before. A stranger who knows the linear inequalities of my face, traces the invisible bruise of muscle and tendon stretched taunt below my skin, holds my hands shaking and tense.
And my name is a pattern on their lips, well worn, wishful, welcome, no longer discordant.
And they keep it close, next to their own. A symbolic symphony."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is strange to not have you here. I feel like I am giant-stepping into my (our?) future soon, with an empty hand that yours should twine and twin with. Though the idea is as abstract as your existence currently is, and despite my complete faith and perseverance in the pursuit of my own desires, it brought me to irreconcilable tears the other night, quiet, shaking sobs in the dark, completely out of character.
We should be shoulder to shoulder, maps laid out, taking notes, charting the stars, deciding and dreaming. "Keep your eyes peeled", you should be whispering, "you don't want to miss whats next."
But each path has a purpose; maybe this one has two: turning thought into action (the dirt in my hands, the concrete pounding shock waves through my legs, the sky ever expanding, stepping off a ledge and finding wings where there once were just weights) and you. Could you be a purpose? I think I'd like to call you "promise", but you are definitely not the "point" (you should know by now, I'll never be that girl).
I think promise fits. Its what I offer, its what I should expect ("We accept the love we think we deserve").
I am though, no longer sitting still, hands clasped and face expectant, awaiting arrival. Soon this promise will be set in motion, covering ground, taking in new territory. Soon this promise will be unstoppable. Soon this promise will grow. These are all things you should look forward to.
"Keep your eyes peeled", I whisper, "you don't want to miss what's next"
Love,
Tori
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Dear Next Boyfriend (The Musical)
(sung in an incredibly high falsetto, whilst tap dancing and waving my arms all around, in what seems to be a poor attempt to indicate flight/a fancy dress spinning/ a drunk hobo reaching to embrace you):
"So far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know you're just time away
Long ago I reached for you and there you stood
Holding you again could only do me good
Oh, how I wish I could
But you're so far away
One more song about moving along the highway
Can't say much of anything that's new
If I could only work this life out my way
I'd rather spend it being close to you
But you're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know you're so far away
Traveling around sure gets me down and lonely
Nothing else to do but close my mind
I sure hope the road don't come to own me
There's so many dreams I've yet to find
But you're so far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know you're so far away".
yeah.
This is the kind of shit you're going to have to deal with on a daily basis.
Love,
Tori
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