Killing Time

April 9, 2015


When I got dumped there was a disturbance in the force, like a million voices crying out, or just mine, Really loud. Earth shattering ka-boom.

I said my heart sometimes makes whale noises, that low series of clicks, creaks, and baritone moans that carry across oceans.

The call was answered. Sunday, St. Anthony, Young Un, Body Pillow, the Archangel Gabriel and Jesus messaged me from Berlin of all places. I half expected High School Sweetheart to break his vow of silence (he didn’t). They quickly formed a protective circle, like musk ox, shoulder to shoulder, horns pointed out at the invisible enemy, me safely tucked in the middle.

Like fathers flocking when someone touches the thermostat. I am the thermostat.

I posted a meme on my Facebook page. Found it on Wormwood.


There was a grand fussing and clucking of tongues. “No No” they cried.

Ya Ya. I say.

On a long enough timeline anything can be assessed for what it really was and old hurts can fall away, if you let them. Your mind really is a garden, you reap what you sow. Stop feeding the weeds. There were flowers and fruit there once, when you loved someone…find those.

Twice I have been in the desert when it comes to being with someone. Just a sandy void. Wasn’t there a kid’s movie with the Desert of Fogettingness or some such shit? To +Google…nope the “Deadly Desert” from Return to Oz. Yes this, and the Swamp of Sadness from Neverending Story. Nothing good grows there.

Case and point, most recent actual ex. St. Ant calls him “Budget George Bush”, he has been referred to by me, in here as Pimp Daddy. I wrote this whole long, rather clever resume detailing all the shitty shit he did.

I started it with the quote “Your resentment is delicious”. (Glee)

Two things.

  1. Jena needs pompoms. I promised something positive and that weren’t it.
  2. He is gone. So who is resenting who? Revenge is a dish best served by the gods, and just living well is actually enough. He is like oatmeal, it’ll go cold and congeal on its own. I don’t want to be resented. I don’t want to think of him nor be thought of, by him, at all. There is no love there. There never was. So where there is no love, no hate can grow either.

So whose resentment tastes like what now?

Convoluted like melty ice cream. You can’t undo melted ice cream.

Fuck it. I’ll just wash my hands and buy another ice cream.

Anger is an energy. By fighting against something you give it power. Use your powers wisely and don’t water the desert, even Hercules wouldn’t have accepted that as a task.

I know why I did what I did, by dating him I mean. The Angel of the Lord was right, my pendulum swings to extremes, often past the fulcrum, never landing anywhere near the middle. Fuck it, I am a wrecking ball, if Stephen King wrote a story involving a possessed piece of demolition equipment instead of a 1958 Plymouth Fury. I went from drowning in the passion I felt for St. Anthony, to the driest place I could find. There was nothing there. Just killing time.

‘Killing time’ can be read two ways. One, a bland wasteland the other implies fury and wrath, time to die.

My musky, muscly, horned wall of masculine protection. I love them. There may have been times when I thought I didn’t, but I do. That love isn’t what it started as, I no longer covet as a rule, but I think I learned that from them. No good comes from coveting.

I don’t know if it’s just a higher level of consciousness or my well-honed logic that dictates, I let these men into my bed, into my life. I must have seen something good in them once, it wasn’t hard to see it again once my eyes relaxed. Oh look a sailboat.

We need more words for love. My love for them means I want them to be happy wherever they are and that if I hear their whalesong, I will come, wings spread and fiery sword at the ready to defend them and a first aid kit full of kindness to bandage their wounds. Except for Body Pillow, we have a Luke and Leia kinda love, awkward sexual tension but he’s my funk soul brotha.


I need to find somewhere in the middle, in the fertile land of passionately understood, ferociously safe, protective & protected.

You Might Also Like

  • michele August 27, 2015 at 6:29 pm

    Sweet pic

  • error: Content is protected !!