It was 1 a.m. Chicago time and I couldn't sleep.
My love was in bed; we had spent the evening joking and having the most ridiculous fights. I found the fights both wonderful and elucidating.
Me: What happened to my panties?
My love: I ripped them off of you; this is no longer my problem.
And it went on like that. I woke up in the morning to thunderstorms, which became indicative of my day. Part of me was desperate to focus, to become a pinpoint in the storm, a raindrop, crystallized, real. The rest of me was caught up in scattered fury, shaking and rattling with no purpose.
I thought to myself that I was home.
And some part of me wondered what home meant anymore with the life I live. Three days here and I would be on the road again. To somewhere. Always somewhere.
I was nothing but destinations.
Friday, April 20, 2012
It was 1 a.m. Chicago time and I couldn't sleep.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
I spent a lot of time traveling back and forth between cities in Korea as part of my job. This was part of the consequence of being successful at what I do. I met my business partner in the train station in another city and we walked and talked about what was going on, what I was going to do, and what needed to be done today as we headed out to his car.
Sometimes he drove us in the Car (SUV, big black, comfy) and sometimes it was an actual car, depending on whether or not Son Number 1 had borrowed the vehicle for the day. More often then not when we got into the car we just drove to where we were going, talked, discussed the ins and outs of the business and prepared for the meeting/event/presentation, that I had traveled in for. It was usually some kind of precursor to a day of working on other things that I didn't necessarily want to work on, ending in dinner and a bottle of vino before heading home.
This day I got into the car, and instead of the silence I usually expected and the conversation there was actually something playing on the radio. I'm a crazy music person but I had not expected to hear music coming out of the Man's radio.
And all I could do was sit and listen.
I felt tendrils of recognition as I was hearing it, but at the same time it was like a vague memory of something, maybe barbecues and Monolycus singing along. Maybe it reminded me of notes of my father rocking out a long time ago. It was music of memory, music that just took you right back into it and you couldn't help but to be locked for a moment in a time warp of reflection and childhood and feelings. It was intense and I couldn't really make out exactly what it was, but the experience stopped me for a second until I finally managed to bring myself to snap out of it and speak.
"Dude, what is that?" was all I could think to say.
And the Man, as he slid the car onto the road, just leaned back into his chair and replied with a smile full of nostalgia: "That's Don Henley man."
The music played for the rest of the ride and we didn't say a word until we got to where we were going.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Monday, April 09, 2012
After eating too many mussels, we sat and sipped wine over an all-too-overly polite dinner for a friend's birthday. The attendants were all new to me, so introductions went around. The bit of wine and the fact that I didn't have to work with anyone made it easier.
Both the Artist and I were amused by the group as they were young and each of them expressive and convinced that they were more experienced and more corrupt and more different than the two of us.
We smiled and held hands under the table as we sipped wine and engaged them in conversation. There was the Dancer, a wiry little Filipino boy who could not stop moving. He wasn't a dancer by trade but it was in his blood, in the way he moved you could see it that he was wound up and would go all night long if given half the chance. There was the married couple, who were also artists, young and from Portland. Very much a Portland couple who could not stop talking about scheduling vasectomies. Perhaps they thought this made them special, but the way they went, on, and on, and on, and on about it made it down right trite and boring. There were others there, I sipped wine and listened to the conversation, participating only when it amused me.
After dinner we walked downtown for birthday cake for the birthday girl and people indulged in sweets. Then the birthday girl in question announced she was going to pick up one of her friends, who was apparently too drunk to figure out how to get the restaurant on his own. That would never end well.
When she finally got back with her drunk friend the Winedrinker, he was very much definitely out of his mind. He took one look at the Artist and decided that the best thing for it would be to hit on her without ending. Within three words she had cut the floor out from under him, challenging him to be more interesting.
"But I am interesting." He kept shooting back.
"You don't even know who you are."
"How can you be so mean to me?"
"Because, you're not interesting, you can go away now."
The poor drunk was cut down hard and began to complain to the birthday party, while the two of us tried to decide what it was exactly that we wanted to do.
In the end we went outside to talk to the other half of the party that had retreated into the cool April evening. We talked for a bit before the Dancer came up to stand beside us.
"What are you going to do tonight?" I asked him.
"I don't know, man, I don't know. This is the first wave. Hard to say where I will end up."
"Yeah, the first wave, and then when you go I'll find the second wave, and then the third wave. You just ride the wave all night long." Ah, to be young and 23 and full of unstoppable energy. I smiled.
The Artist and I posed for a picture and then decided that the privacy of a bed somewhere else would be the better way to spend our own waves for the evening, and with some polite goodbyes we headed off in our own direction and let the waves roll over the others in the group.
Saturday, April 07, 2012
I walked with her, arm in arm, into the apartment. We were giggling girls. I offered her some wine, and she said yes. It was early afternoon and the sun was shining through the windows, giving the entire apartment a soft glow.
“Let’s get comfortable.” I said.
Comfortable soon turned into naked and we stayed in my bed with rope and fingers and busy tongues with all the fun slippery wet moistness that you would expect from two girls who were so desperately into each other and who have had to prolong their desire for many more hours than either wanted.
I buried my head deep in her, drinking in her taste and smell, while her hands worked into my hair, pulling me back up to her lips, her breasts. We rolled around on my bed, leaving messy sheets and uncovered corners of mattress and oily trails of slippery female around each other.
We caught our breath and I went and poured us two glasses of red and we walked around the apartment talking. It was so lovely to have such a big space and to have it all alone, especially when I was heady with her taste and the wine, and the early evening, and thinking about the night to come. We sipped the wine and danced around the apartment, talking, girl talk in the soft light.
Her presence was arousing and I couldn't help wanting more of her. Even as we sparred back and forth with conversation and sipped glasses of dark red wine, I wanted to drink her up again.
“Your flatmate is going to be home soon.”
“So?” I asked her as I pushed her down against the arm of the couch and found her neck with my teeth.
“She is going to walk in on us while we are on the couch.”
“So?” I asked again as I moved lower and uncovered her most perfectly shaped breasts and pulled them out from under a handmade silk kimono.
I think she may have protested again, but the urgency of my leg between hers, and my hand in her hair, and my lips on her lips was enough to distract me from further protests. We were deep into each other again when I heard the door open. The flatmates and I had agreed at a meeting earlier that if we were in common areas we had no right to expect privacy. I figured that was fair enough. I also figured that seeing as how we were pretty well engaged with each other my flatmate would mostly likely just go to her room and leave us alone.
Perhaps I should have rushed us off to my room, but we were busy.
Then we were aware of someone standing over our heads.
Standing very close.
Watching very closely.
Practically participating with their voyeurism, and while this amused the exhibitionist in me, I was also a bit caught off guard when the conversation started.
“So how are you?”
I looked into the eyes of the girl in my arms, the girl who was dripping down my thigh, with hands wrapped around my back, the girl who was really distracting my attention from any kind of reasoned conversation.
“Busy,” I replied.
“How as your day?”
Seriously? It was all I could think. Is she seriously trying to have a conversation with me right now?
“Long.” I replied. I thought to try to cut off any more conversation by diving teeth first into the small hollow of the neck underneath my fingers and burying myself in waves of long brown hair and pleasant smell.
“Did you get a lot done today?”
You have got to be kidding me, I thought. You have seriously got to be kidding me.
The girl under my hands began to giggle, and I felt my desire cool just a touch.
“Not really,” I replied. I really couldn’t get mad at the flatmate, as I had taken this particular risk when I decided to pick up with my shenanigans on the couch. I was trying to be polite, but I really hadn’t expected her to invite herself in for a conversation. If anything, I expected an awkward moment and then for her to walk off to her room while we finished up.
“The weather was really nice today, don’t you think? It’s starting to get warmer.”
Right. At that point I realized that the nipple under my hand deserved more attention and resumed with a renewed ardor. What it was I had been doing when the flatmate came in? I stopped responding. Not that it stopped the conversation from being one-sided from her. Finally she walked off onto the porch, but continued to add comments as she walked in and out of the room around us.
Right, done. I grabbed the girl and the wine, and we went back to my room and finished what had been started there before cleaning up and getting ready for the rest of our evening. We finished the bottle with tastes of each other in between, and then there were hot showers, hot kissing, and dangerous formalwear as we prepared for a lovely expensive dinner celebration with others.
Friday, April 06, 2012