17 June
Amy and I - if we can get over being horny for each other I think we'll have a great friendship. Even with being horny it's solid-seeming. She came over for dinner last week and we talked about her ongoing film projects. She seems to be in the midst of some kind of renaissance, writing up at Swinney.org, even reconsidering what to do with her web site Eggthings. She's talking excitedly about scripts and collaboration. Maybe it's the summertime.
Visiting her apartment is a testament to her reconfiguration - the space is both a haven for tools and art materials, as well as a giant canvas itself. When we lived together she spoke of wanting to learn carpentry; here she's built herself giant sliding wooden doors and drywall. And it looks solid! My mental barriers, like how do you attach a wood frame to concrete, she's surpassed - she has the right tools to drill and nail and shoot into concrete. I have wireless internet routers and digital camera battery chargers, she's got power saws and nail guns. And she's got a video editing computer set up.So she's got herself revved up and running, and it does make her more lovable, even having quit smoking - all activity and processing, Amy is a wonder to behold, and a woman I love. As she put it, last night as we sat on a couch that used to be in this house, and there were no stains on it, she can't live with a male lover - taking instruction and being considerate as encouraged by someone she lives with and sleeps with implies male/female power issues that she can't handle. Seems reasonable to me, I guess - know your problems and work around them. Me, I intend to live with women, or a woman, as much as possible. When I find a gal I like talking to, I want to see her waking up, eating, showering, and sitting out on the porch reading the newspaper. I'm learning not to have to talk to her, or be with her all the time. And the single life is suiting me fairly well; I'm productive, learning, even cleaning some times myself. But with somebody else, life takes on a new dimension. So I'll gladly go back and forth between those modes, living single and together.
And I suspect that I could have followed Amy into her warehouse back when she split, and we would be today fighting and frolicking in common company. But she is more beautiful working with roommates and entertaining young men and living as a consuming productive artist.
She came over for dinner last week; I'd been out of town for quite some time, and somehow on one of my trips I had a feeling that Amy was someone I felt close to, like family, and I didn't want to leave her behind or stop talking to her as my life changed. I'm not pining to have her back as my girlfriend; I'm meeting plenty of other interesting women, and now that I have some distance from Amy, I can consider her quirks, the way her behaviour repulses and attracts me. It's all very studied.
Tesla
Except for the true feeling of current when we approach each other. We talk and talk and it's very natural and then when we're within five feet of each other and a paragraph ends we might not say anything for a few measures and a strange sort of ambient music picks up and starts becoming louder and I have to decide am I going to say my next thought about Fernando or am I going to lean in and push my cheek up against hers? The latter feels more natural, the former feels more like friendship - returning to conversational medium-sized talk. Not exactly small talk, but not the skin-touching
We did some of that, in spite of her thinking ahead of time, "I don't want to fool around with him" and mentally steeling herself against sexual attraction and capitulation. But as she said last night, as we walked on treasure island, her head against my chest, and I was holding her bare arm against the bay wind - if she was thinking about it so much, she might as well have been wishing it to happen.
It didn't get very far, it might have felt too good - we know each others buttons and I was emboldened, not being in a relationship with her, but seeing her after some time and wanting to know her with my hands again.
photos from Wayne's 30.
