Thursday, 8 December 2011

I fell asleep and awoke to a passionate kiss. He took advantage of my trust and entered my consciousness as I lay sleeping. I welcomed it, embraced it, loved it, pushed it away. I wasn't going to allow him to touch me. No, no dear sir, you cannot go down there, nor can you go up there. Keep your hands to yourself but give me free reign to your lips.

I wanted it. And yet rejected it. Could not accept the offer, for I would have lost the game.
In the war between bodies, the woman is always walking on eggshells. She needs to keep her focus, her balance, watch her steps carefully or she could be lost and crush herself under her own steps.

And then we kissed...and I loved it. And we kissed some more, and my resolve began to melt. And then he touched me some more, and I almost conceded. But I did not give in. I did not give in to my own temptations, neither to those of my body, neither to those of my heart. I just simply enjoyed the cleansing and satisfying process of being thoroughly, beautifully, passionately kissed.

Ah, how I want him! Ah, how I wish I did not want him. What a tragic war of emotions, this spark, this game of who seems to care less...


Onno! said...

I've perused most of this blog now. Some of it I've skimmed, some of it I've read more carefully. But this, this is one of your best lines:

"In the war between bodies, the woman is always walking on eggshells."

Elevate all your writing to the level of this line, and your name will be written on the covers of hardcovers.

My other favourite: the post about the man you're still not completely over and the dogs in between you two. It could be a great short story, if not more.

Ocean drift... said...

Inexistent reader, You have become an interesting source of fascination, mystery and objective feedback. I am thankful your existence as an inexistent reader of my blog :).

Also, why do you think that the eggshells line is worthy of hardcover?

Onno! said...

I could tell you that the reason is that it sounds literary, that it's taking a stand on male-female relationships, a stand that's not overly easy to decipher, since it could be both a feminist or a chauvinist statement, and really ends up being both and neither at the same time. But it sounds decisive, confident, and also delicate and fragile. Is it descriptive or prescriptive? One can't easily answer these questions upon reading it, but it certainly makes you ponder. So it has that certain je-ne-sais-quoi, that expansive quality great writing has that makes you think outside of the confines of the page. Plus, the wording is very economical and quotable.

I could tell you all that, but, the honest reason why I like it?

Because it hints at something beyond the narcissism of diary-writing. I don't mean this as an insult, and you shouldn't take it as such, but most of your posts smell like diary entries. There's nothing wrong with that. It's good writing practice, it's great for figuring out what's in your own head, etc. But, at the end of the day, it's for you. If your stuff will end up on hardcover, it will be because it will have become a little more generalizable. It will say something about the rest of us through your own experience and arrive at some novel way of presenting us our own world. Which is what this line does.

Good on ya, mate.

Ocean drift... said...

Your explanation is beautiful. My postings here are diary bits as this is my refuge, my REM-chewing of bits from my life.

Also, am not sure whether diary writing is narcissism per se. I would say it is more of a self-analysis, reiteration of your life as it was, is or you envision it to be. It is a safe haven of discussing oneself. But please, do write more, inexistent reader. I got a feeling I would love to read whatever you have to write...:)

Onno! said...

I know, narcissism has a bad rap, and I suppose that was an incendiary choice of words on my part. But what I meant to imply with the word is that diary-writing tends to obsess with the ego. In fact, that's exactly what diary-writing is for, I think. It's "know thyself" in attempt and in practice.

So I wasn't, in the least, calling you narcissistic or egotistical. Just characterizing the practice of writing diaries, with which I have a fair bit of experience myself, though, granted, my experience is limited to numerous false starts, each followed by disgust at such deep focus on myself and, eventually, an abandoning of the enterprise altogether.

After reading your comment, I had to Google the legend of Narcissus and brush up on my mythology a bit. And after the crash course, here are a few notable observations:

1. Narcissus was enraptured with himself, but this followed divine intervention by the goddess Artemis, who laid a curse on him as retribution for his having shunned the love of Echo and countless others. The curse would cause him to fall in love, but fall in love with himself, the ultimate kind of unrequited love.

2. Narcissus' love for himself kept him from looking outward at other prospects. His deep focus on himself eliminated the possibility of the kind of love that could love him back, that could answer, participate, return. So if love is a kind of connection, his love was a disconnection.

3. Narcissus' rapture was made manifest as an obsession with his appearance: it was skin-deep. Your diaryesque focus on yourself is a looking inward. A bit different.

4. Narcissus loved what he saw. You, on the other hand, are a bit more critical. Whereas he wanted to obtain what he saw in his mirror image, you want to see yourself as you want yourself to be, which is different than the self you see in actuality. There is an incongruence between who/how you want to be, and who/how you are. You see the potential, but are haunted by the fact that time keeps passing, and yet it still doesn't materialize. So naturally, you implicitly and explicitly ask, "What is wrong with me?," "When will I be the way I want to be?," "When will I be happy?" Let me know if I'm being too presumptive.

5. You are not narcissistic, in the mythological sense of the word. But you do look inward a lot. This keeps you from making the connections you so clearly long for. Connections feel ephemeral, temporary, skin-deep. At a party you catalyze deep, insightful conversation, hoping to find a fish that will bite, someone who can keep up, challenge, and still show care and tenderness. This has proven a difficult undertaking. The longer the difficulty continues, the louder the voice in the back of your head shouts that you'll be alone forever. That voice lies. But I know the feeling.

6. I've always liked the idea of having a penpal. Would you like that role? I won't tell you who I am, but we can still exchange little pithy insights on life and complain about all that could go right, but doesn't. If so, I have an e-mail address. It is nonexistentreader AT gmail. Write me sometime.

That is all for now.

Ocean drift... said...

Who the heck are you, inexistent reader/Onno???

This is probably one of the best analysis I have ever received about myself. How do you know so much? It's scary!

I am really starting to think you are Liri lol

Onno! said...

It's all right here, in plain sight, scattered throughout your blog. I just summarized and arranged it.

Who is this Liri, and why do you think I'm him?