I have avoided writing this week as I lick my wounds and vacillate between acceptance and frustration. I still smell his scent on clothes. If I close my eyes, I can feel the embrace that seemed to at least temporarily repair all the broken pieces. I miss it. It has been a week of no contact. I miss him and still find myself wondering if  he is safe, fed, and has shelter. I am ok until I contemplate what he does in order to obtain those things, and then I am saddened and my heart aches even more. Nothing like picking at a scab to prolong the healing. There is a certain twisted satisfaction in such endeavors.

Yesterday found me burning the 8 volumes of journals I had kept with Michael. They chronicled our 2+ years together. They were a form of hostage taking for me- I got mad if he didn't write in the book. My drunken control freak wanting constant reassurances demanded of him that he read what I wrote and respond. Not a healthy game, not a fair game, and not a thing to do to someone you love. Fear of losing him and us drove me to the depths of despair. Adding drugs and alcohol onto that simmering madness was sometimes explosive. So I loaded them into the fire pit, doused them in gasoline and struck a match. A tinge of sadness came and then a great sense of release- as though I had somehow severed a bond that kept us bound to a time and place. I gave up the ghost on a beautiful day at the close of summer. I set him and I both free.

It is Sunday. Tomorrow is the Equinox. Fall is already hinting of its presence as the poplars drop leaves and the dogwoods begin to turn red. The temperature is dipping lower at night, the slant of sunlight has changed. It won't be long until the forest is devoid of color and the starkness of winter descends.

The day found me being extremely lazy. I left the house late afternoon to obtain cigarettes and petrol. I have begged out on the porch for hours on end today. I have however, continued to complete at least thirty sit ups and a few reps of planks each day, often twice a day. I am feeling the burn, and might be seeing a little definition begin to take form. I am not sure I desire ripped abs, but a more toned body would be nice. 

So I ask the universe to guide my thoughts and actions each day, to help them be divorced of anger, resentment, jealousy, and self seeking motivations. I say thank you at the close of each day for the gifts bestowed. It seems to be working a little magic in my day, although I can quickly offset any gains by not remembering to eat, being tired, angry or lonely. I also am remembering that I can reset the day at any moment- thank you Scott C...your advice when I was a drunk still rings clear in my ears, and has worked its magic for a few years now.

I close the day and smile. I remain. I remain connected. I remain willing to learn. These all come together and seem to be vital ingredients to a relatively sane and purposeful life.

Waking to a cool September morning. Thoughts of a young man are on my mind. My belly is still in an uproar. 

It seems that my fun summer fling has come grindingly to a halt. No communication beyond what appeared as a drunk text on Friday night has left me scratching my head.  It was a fun 6 weeks, it taught me a lot about the generosity of young spirits, the joys of lovingly running my fingers through my lovers hair, the passions ignited and how night can quickly become morning when you sleep and wake next to a person with whom you love. The jump into silence has been hurtful and has really lacked any transition, although I sensed its approach. I had hoped that the 26 years between our experiences could be bridged by communication. While all of this sounds good in theory, its day to day integration into lives and circumstances seems more daunting and difficult. The youthful spirit and vitality and their subsequent pursuit of ideals held dear do not really make a lasting union possible. 

So he moves into the category of the amazing vanishing men- joining the ranks of a few other men with whom I have known and felt strongly about over the past nearly seven years. I smile mostly. I am sad, but try to cling to the gratitude of the experiences shared.

A holiday weekend is closing. Monday morning finds me sipping coffee and listening to Spotify. The coffee shop station is tugging at my heart strings as the playlist reminds me of James. The acoustic guitars, the lyrics. I can't help but wonder where he is, whats going on, where is he sleeping, has he eaten...The silence is deafening. My experience has taught me and shown me that praying is all I can do in such situations. The serenity prayer comes to mind, and how nearly seven years ago I clung to it, recited it to the point that I thought it would break. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference... I must accept anything outside of myself. I am all that I can change. I do not always possess the wisdom to know the difference...Grace enters the equation sometimes and I find peace. 

It is Sunday again. I reach out to James. He agrees to meet- he has a show at 2:30. We share coffee and strained conversation. He is preoccupied - 

He asks me to go with him to the show. I desire to see him play so I go. It is a ManKind ceremony to welcome initiates. James and Kris don't end up playing. I again am left to fend for myself in an unfamiliar place. The ceremony progresses. We eat. James and Kris play with the equipment, he looks and acts like a child. It is joyful to watch and hear. My desire is strong. The antibiotics are wrecking my belly. My GI track is a mess. I stopped the antibiotics yesterday after the GI issues arrived on Wednesday night.

They wrap up and James and I return in my car to Sbux. He is playful and flirty. He has obligated himself to busk with Kris. He is torn to come home with me. He is obligated to busk. He goes inside Sbux to change clothes. I am miserable, about to explode. I head home. 

In retrospect, this was the last time I saw him for a few weeks. The last time he stirred passion as he played with my chest. I miss him. I miss our conversations, our embracing, our lovemaking, our kissing for hours. He is a wonderful lover. 

A friend and I went on a photo outing in the River Arts District. Thom and I discovered many beautiful things that day- including this sage advice. I smile,a keen knowing smile, because I know this one word speaks very loudly to me, my path, my journey. Thank you Thom W- That remains a favorite day on my list of favorite days :-)

Another afternoon has allowed for naps. That quiet peaceful time of day that welcomes rest, relaxation and slipping off into the unknown world and realm of dreams.

I dreamt of a Magical Blue Eyed Being again- of a day on the beach- of writing our names in the sand- of hunting for bargains.

Those eyes. Mesmerizing in dreams as they were across the bar. They taught me much about myself and about the world. I will always be thankful. 

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