When I decided to thumb through Ireland, I got busy putting all the fear-laced warnings about hitch-hiking out of my head. I hadn’t contemplated the also-fearful-and-more-likely reality that I’d be expected to converse with perfect strangers for hours.
In those days, my body’s insistent desire came from the fear of alone-ness: am I undesired and undesirable? But longing, no–not longing. All the love and affection seemed dried up and blown away. After all those futile attempts to make the marriage work there was no more fantasy left.
There now, there’s nothing so odd about carrying a large mammalian skeleton through the nice residential part of town. Not until a car comes in the opposite direction, that is. “Hey Roy, who’s the girl with the dead animal. D’ya know?”
Overload, apathy, cynicism–sort of like gutting a fish on the installment plan. And where’s the white knight? Mr. Clean, maybe? or even Mr. Tid-y-Bowl? No one looks too good. I tend to feel out-monied, out power pointed, out Godded.
A song of Passover. Taste the Bread… On Passover we welcome the stranger and we become the stranger wandering to find our spiritual home. WWe recommit to our most audacious dreams–those of peace and freedom.
When I was younger, anxious law students all around me fervently quested truth. Here were young puzzle-meisters, archeologists, detectives, pot heads, and scientists. Ambiguity and fog really bothered some of these colleagues of mine. But not me…
[W]hen I leave my routines behind for travel or some other demand on my time, I miss them. Routines are like botulinum; they can kill, but just a little bit smooths away the harshness of everyday.
She screams out ”Won’t someone please shoot this dog? Please, if I circle back around the block one more time, will you please have your gun ready and try to shoot the dog? Shoot the damn dog and don’t shoot me? Please.”
I enjoy this sweet, erotic, love-soaked slant on the fleeting light and last roses of fall. And I’m grateful to you for making me the lover I’ve always wanted to be: received; expansive and cherished. I’m surrounded by fountains of discovery and rediscovery; the source and subject of so much passion.
Actually, we didn’t do so badly between his few phrases of English, occasional bits of German and much hand-waving. The will to communicate is everything and Hungarians have plenty of that.