08.36
18.59
Just watched, "What The Bleep Do We Know?" – which has got to be just about the stoopidest film I've ever seen. Talk about half-baked! One thing I found interesting, though – and it's almost always worth sitting through a book or film to find one interesting idea – was to do with love, and to do with the way we associate love with other emotions, circumstances, experiences, and therefore maybe don't really feel love at all. Not that this is a new idea to me but I've talked about this recently with regard to my own situation, and my upbringing, and whether what I actually think of as 'love' is, in fact, 'wanting'. It then talked about 'addiction satisfaction' – and that made me think of today, and my situation with Perlilly, and also things to do with Sophie, in that, well, I've sort of given in to this feeling of wanting to see Perlilly and half-made arrangements to go down there this weekend – tying it in with the Big Brother auditions in Birmingham – and as a result of that I've felt really happy – or, at least, absent of my mental strains from days passed. The question is, why? Why, when we're no closer together, either emotionally or physically, and when nothing's really changed? Is it because I've stopped fighting with myself and gone with what I want rather than what I've been trying to tell myself would be good for me and the situation? Or is it because I've taken away the aspect of separation and brought us 'back together'? With Sophie, too, after we broke up I couldn't bear to be 'not wanted' by her, even when I didn't want her; I couldn't stand the disharmony, and the separation, and I guess that's why it lingered on so long; whenever I felt like she was drifting away from me I would reel her back in; whenever I felt I had pushed her away too much I had to repair the damage. Is that just not wanting to be alone? Or is it something else – something linked inextricably to woman, and wanting, and love – and perhaps my mother and my own experience of her, and of love, from when I was a child? I swear, there's still something there – and I'm determined to get to the bottom of it. Either that, or doomed to keep repeating these cycles of falling and wanting, and pushing and pulling. As ever, it's beyond me, just out of reach, unclear and intangible. Maybe I should just call her and ask her – my Glastonbury clairvoyant said it might be to do with something from when I was three or four, but I can't think of a thing…
19.16
I came from the library over the road the other day and – well, I'm in and out of there all the time, uploading, procrastinating, skiving, escaping from old ladies' chatter – and this one day – two days back, it was – three times running, sitting first in line at the traffic lights, I saw red Nissan Micras. Three times in a row – just after I'd been thinking and writing about it. Now what are the odds of that? And what, oh Great Mysterious One (or Ones) in the Sky, does it mean? The only connection I have with it is through Laura, who drives a Micra – though it's not red, and doesn't really make me think of her. Okay, so she was the only woman I never had to pursue emotionally, never had to change myself for to get to love me – which is kind of relevant – but, beyond that, I don't think it's anything to do with her. It's kind of delicious, really, these clues – I'm convinced it means something and I'm looking forward to it coming to fruition, having reported it all here in this blog. It's sort of like when I was getting messages about dying (but not really dying) – through random emails, through Star Trek episodes containing characters named 'Lazarus' – and how I wrote in my blog one day, "I wonder if I'm gonna have to die for this [my quest for God]" – and sure enough, within the week, I did (that was Mount Shasta days, with Shawn). How nice it would be if this whole red Nissan Micra mystery were to lead to something and be revealed here!
19.23
And – heads – the coin says, yes, and call your mum, and ask her – except she's not in…
22.56 (Thinking of P)
Just wanting someone for sex…even though you like them, and think them smart, and enjoy their company, and have meals with them…wait a minute – isn't that something I've done in the not too distant past?! And isn't it, really, when you get down to it, what I'm doing with P? Ah…karma! So here we go – what goes around comes around – I need to experience what I've made others experience; okay, that makes some sort of sense…
Now – the question is – what to do with it?
Titles
On the Holy Road (s of America) (I Found My Soul/Self/Love)
At the End of The Road is a Rainbow
(On) The Road To Somewhere
Dear God, please tell me what happened when I was 3/4/5?
When the time is right.
Is Perlilly a part of this?
Yes. She helps reveal these aspects of you, to your conscious mind.
Oh.
So just go along with it?
Yes. Don't fight – do what is in you to do – and then you'll learn the lesson you came to her to learn.
Oh. Okay.
That makes me sort of sad.
Yes. It's matters of the heart you're dealing with – old stuff – it's bound to make you sad.
I don't like feeling sad.
I know. But sadness is a part of life, there's no getting around it.
Sadness.
Just bear with it. Walk through it. Don't despair. Sadness and despair are two very different things – sadness is necessary, and unavoidable; despair is hopelessness – and there's always hope.
Yes. You're right. Walk on, with hope in your heart, right?
And you'll never walk alone.
Yeah, I know the song – and it's true, isn't it?
Yes. But you don't know it very often – one day, however, you will – and you'll look back on this…
…and laugh. Haha. That's a good one.
Okay, I think I got my answers.
01.05
I just got off the phone to Perlilly; I was calling to try and express myself, to find some clarity, to repair the gap that has grown between us. I thought it would be easy – you know, just express, explore, laugh and discover truth and get underneath it all, the semantics, the emotions, the misunderstandings and assumptions – but she wasn't into it at all; she was defensive and annoyed, disbelieving of what I was saying, not wanting to talk at all and saying it just made the whole thing worse. I found it incredibly hard to deal with; it wasn't what I'm used to at all. At some point she even said, "I thought I wanted a man who talked about his emotions – now I don't think I do." I began to feel acutely the difference in our years, in our levels of emotional experience, our perspectives. It made me so frustrated and sad – and then, unexpectedly, I burst into tears, the pain of this so pointlessly fractured relationship finally getting to me. It seemed to soften her somewhat, and we made progress; turns out so much of what I say she hears loaded with the connotations of others – and other things I say, and the way in which I say and mean them, are so alien to her, and everyone she knows. It's hard when someone doesn't believe what you say; it's hard when you try to speak as plainly as you are able – and they still think there are hidden meanings and things beneath your words. I know she's not the one for me – but how sad when it becomes so hard to even converse with someone you've shared something wonderful with. Emotions are hard; talking is hard – yet still I must persevere. Better not to say, "I love you," to someone unless they know what I mean! And funny but, even in that conversation with one who is speaking a different emotional language to I, and who said that she didn't know anybody who felt or talked the way that I do, in my heart of hearts there was a gladness there, because, different though I am to many, I know I'm not unique, and I could sense that out there somewhere was the opposite to this, and out there somewhere, sleeping human and in a female body this night is someone who feels the way I do, and that at some point we are going to meet.
Titles
On the Holy Road (s of America) (I Found My Soul/Self/Love)
At the End of The Road is a Rainbow
(On) The Road To Somewhere
Dear God, please tell me what happened when I was 3/4/5?
When the time is right.
Is Perlilly a part of this?
Yes. She helps reveal these aspects of you, to your conscious mind.
Oh.
So just go along with it?
Yes. Don't fight – do what is in you to do – and then you'll learn the lesson you came to her to learn.
Oh. Okay.
That makes me sort of sad.
Yes. It's matters of the heart you're dealing with – old stuff – it's bound to make you sad.
I don't like feeling sad.
I know. But sadness is a part of life, there's no getting around it.
Sadness.
Just bear with it. Walk through it. Don't despair. Sadness and despair are two very different things – sadness is necessary, and unavoidable; despair is hopelessness – and there's always hope.
Yes. You're right. Walk on, with hope in your heart, right?
And you'll never walk alone.
Yeah, I know the song – and it's true, isn't it?
Yes. But you don't know it very often – one day, however, you will – and you'll look back on this…
…and laugh. Haha. That's a good one.
Okay, I think I got my answers.
01.05
I just got off the phone to Perlilly; I was calling to try and express myself, to find some clarity, to repair the gap that has grown between us. I thought it would be easy – you know, just express, explore, laugh and discover truth and get underneath it all, the semantics, the emotions, the misunderstandings and assumptions – but she wasn't into it at all; she was defensive and annoyed, disbelieving of what I was saying, not wanting to talk at all and saying it just made the whole thing worse. I found it incredibly hard to deal with; it wasn't what I'm used to at all. At some point she even said, "I thought I wanted a man who talked about his emotions – now I don't think I do." I began to feel acutely the difference in our years, in our levels of emotional experience, our perspectives. It made me so frustrated and sad – and then, unexpectedly, I burst into tears, the pain of this so pointlessly fractured relationship finally getting to me. It seemed to soften her somewhat, and we made progress; turns out so much of what I say she hears loaded with the connotations of others – and other things I say, and the way in which I say and mean them, are so alien to her, and everyone she knows. It's hard when someone doesn't believe what you say; it's hard when you try to speak as plainly as you are able – and they still think there are hidden meanings and things beneath your words. I know she's not the one for me – but how sad when it becomes so hard to even converse with someone you've shared something wonderful with. Emotions are hard; talking is hard – yet still I must persevere. Better not to say, "I love you," to someone unless they know what I mean! And funny but, even in that conversation with one who is speaking a different emotional language to I, and who said that she didn't know anybody who felt or talked the way that I do, in my heart of hearts there was a gladness there, because, different though I am to many, I know I'm not unique, and I could sense that out there somewhere was the opposite to this, and out there somewhere, sleeping human and in a female body this night is someone who feels the way I do, and that at some point we are going to meet.
So tenderness followed tears, and my sniffles seemed to soften Perlilly's stance and we were able to find some common ground. I was grateful for my tears – they had done what my foolish mind and words had failed to accomplish, and two unfriendly friends were friends once more. It was almost unbearable to feel that gap, that thing that had come between us, and to not be able to do anything about it; it was heaven to feel that connection again, for things to be as they should. Friends should be friends, and friends should work together to try and remove the blockages between them, so that they can continue being friends.
And friends that kiss? And friends that make love? Alas, I seem to have burnt my bridges there – just as I'd realised that I'd wanted to continue being that – because now Perlilly says that "just good friends" is probably a good idea, and I'm guessing she'll probably stick to that. Oh well. It is a shame but, lackaday, what can you do? I decided on it because I didn't want to do the 'sleeping with two people at once thing, either on my part or hers, and the bitter irony of it is that she'd assumed that that would never have been the case. Me, I assume nothing; I just fear the worst, where this kind of thing is concerned. I guess that's why I like to talk things out; you know what they say about assumptions…
And so, after we were done I turned over to muse and then sleep, and my thoughts drifted once more to the question of my mother issue, and an image flashed in my head of Eve, one time when we had a falling out, and I bawled and bawled and begged for her not to leave me – and when I say "leave me" I mean, like, not even 'leave the room'. In that moment I thought of my mum, and now laying here, tonight, I thought again of that and wondered, could that have been the start of it? Some minor disagreement, some falling out, at some tender age – and my mum, or my mum and me never repaired it, a block in the pipe that connects us, unremoved, a chink in my mental mindtank, my heart-valves, my young inner-child and being? Did something occur – something perhaps totally minor and trivial – at age 3 or 4 or 5 to send me into this decades old loop whereby separation from women I'm close to is devastating, and it somehow also has the effect of making me want a certain type, those that don't want me [as I am], those from whom love is a thing to be sought and earned? Thinking that – and maybe realising; was that a realisation? – made me want to experience this separation more, made me glad for the tears I'd just shed, and the misunderstandings and frustrations that brought them to me, and all the tears I've ever shed over the years – for, if there is any truth in this, then they come from that same, deep unhealed place that I currently seek; they spring forth from the same well. Shedding those tears gives me a lead; like a silken, watery rope to grab hold of and follow to its source. It makes me excited – like a detective uncovering a clue; like a doctor on the verge of a cure – and it makes me grateful again for the gift of tears, which I love, and which I experience all too rarely; they make me feel alive – alive and feeling – and feeling is great, whatever the feeling is. Feeling, they say, is the language of the soul. And just another thing about me that so many people won't understand – and yet some – and enough – will. Different to the majority I may be – and thank God for that! – but unique, and alone in my way of thinking and feeling, I am not. I know this in my heart to be true – and in my heart, right now, I am happy. I can feel it; it feels good.
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