New

 How do you know when someone is just too angry, seething just beneath the surface from so many slights, woundings and cruelties unleashed on them by unthinking callous parents and schoolmates?  Is it unhealthy to fear you? To worry that the wrong word said at the wrong time will unleash that powerful torrent of hurt and there I stand, directly in the way of that firehose of hurt and anger? I already love you, am drawn in repeatedly to the well and depth of your sweet, tortured, fighting, beautiful self.  Is it an addiction? Am I afraid to turn away because of what would happen?  And, what would happen? Would that hurt still find its way back to me, like a strangling cloud blindly driven to inflict as much pain as it feels? Am I fooling myself and staying in part because I don't want to find out?  Does it matter that I feel emboldened to write here because I feel so sure that you won't read this words, despite knowing the path here.  It is always so hard to have a relationship in a vortex. I want to find a way out of the vortex but there is no clear path.  So fumbling blindly we go.  I've never been called out so cruelly--is it good for me? I'm fighting to have it be so even though part of me wants to run.  I can trace the lines of your hurt in the swords you wield and hurl and it helps me breathe, step away, and recall the wielder; a sweet, sad boy, fiercely fighting for his life.  Even as I write this I anticipate the next volley of fighting it will unleash.  

all the things

 Re-reading old posts inspired me to blab on here.  Life is moving.  Funk nights at Reveler, stalking the swing dancers on-line and dreaming of my next life where I am one.  Nights of sleep.  Let me say that again.  Nights of SLEEP.  New crushes--for better or worse.  Usually, for worse, but there's a tinge of fun aliveness there too.  Music music.  VB's come to life again, hopefully Breakfast Cabaret will soon return and rebirth.  Rumours of Blackfire reunion tour (that's enough to blast my endorphins through the roof).  

Kiddos these days: Leo, tiny sing-songy voice, handing me is half-eaten banana in the car "here's your ice-cream mama!", shouting through the house "MAMA I NEED YOU!!" "DADA I NEED YOU"  "ISABEL I NEED YOU!!" (the latter to keep him company while he poops).  Strict wardrobe of truck shirts, soft fleece pants, and dresses.  Favorite activities: train tracks, waterplay, rainplay, being nude.  and nursing.  Still nursing!  With gusto!  but now coyly waggles his eyebrows at me while suggesting it.  

Isabel is 5.  Lost her first tooth.  Worried for the world and every injustice, no matter how small.  Perfectionist who won't do her reading lesson because she's not good enough at it yet.  taught herself to count to 100 despite my best efforts to do so.  loves babies, animals, flowers, and her grey blanket (aka "greg").  inventor of all games, boss of all games.  enthusiastic harvester, pickler, and consumer of radishes.  Obsessed with the Edmund Fitzgerald, dancer to all music. lover of princess dresses.

Things that make feel alive right now: climbing (edging up on 5.11!), playing music-esp klezmer/balkan, doing massage, bike-riding, cooking, playing ultimate at twin oaks, dancing!, flirting.  which also makes me feel dead :(