Love

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Supposedly Ernest Hemingway never said it, but I love the quotation attributed to him anyway: “write drunk, edit sober.”    I think it’s somewhat true…  Sadly or not.

As I write this, I’m feeling tipsy.  And, as cliché and immature as it sounds, I do think when I’m tipsy that I tend to be more honest.  Sincerely…    I don’t know that that’s a good thing, but it is true…   I think it’s something to do with catharsis.  I  can release things more when I feel a little inebriated.  I’m not saying that’s good…  but it’s true.

I had two glasses of absinthe and a glass of lovely Cabernet tonight.  I love absinthe (as I’ve said).  I also love the people who serve it…  I’m not kidding.  They treat it like an art and it is, as far as I’m concerned…

I’m not one to get drunk often, but I do appreciate the way if feels…  And… tonight I am a bit drunk.

And, please, don’t think I’m advocating using substances of any sort based on my recent posts.  I’m not.  Truly.

Oh goodness.

Handsome, whether it makes any sense or is at all rational or sane, I’m crazy about you.  I kept thinking about you today and…  tonight.   🙂  You’re just…  Something about you is sublime to me.

Oh well.

Anyway

🙂

In some ways I’m incredibly unlucky and in some ways I’m so soo damn fortunate.   Thank God…

Today was the fifth anniversary of my wedding to Mark…   And we spent the day celebrating.

We started the evening at a lovely hotel bar that was built in the 1930’s.  It actually reminded me of the bar in the film, The Shinning.  It was plush, elegant and romantic.

I had my first glass of Pernod there.  And it was very sensual for me, to be honest, as drinking often is (again not advocating it!).  Since Mark doesn’t drink, I’m always the only one the least bit tipsy and given that premise, it’s an interesting experience.   It becomes an oddly personal thing.

There were these French speaking women in the Art Deco bathroom at the hotel when I went to put on my lipstick.  I wanted to follow them and listen to their words.  French is such a beautiful language.

And, there were a group of Brits near us in the bar.  I’m quite convinced at this point that if reincarnation is true I was most definitely British in a past life.  And I suspect that I knew a bit more French than I do now and loved it then too…   But, then again, I’m not sure about reincarnation… Anyway…  I love Jesus.  Go ahead and laugh. I don’t care…

The bartender at the hotel bar asked me who made my dress.  I took that as a huge compliment, especially given her impeccable eye makeup.  I had Mark look at the label and then she felt awkward I think, but I was too intoxicated from my first glass of Pernod (I didn’t eat enough earlier in the day) to care too much at that point.  Then Mark and I walked to dinner down the street.

Mark…  Mark is a very unusual man.  He really is.   I wish more men like him existed.

If you were ever going to make a mistake in getting married it should be to a man like Mark.  He’s a rare soul.  And as much as my feelings remained unchanged thoughout the night, I was deeply impressed with his character and…  strength…  tonight….  I really, really hope that if I ever leave him he finds someone else to love.  It would be a tragedy if I was ever happy with someone else and he wasn’t.  He’s…  he’s a catch.  He can be insensitive and we might not be a good match, but…  that doesn’t mean he’s not exactly what someone else might need and want.  Exactly.

On the way home, there was a couple sitting at a bus stop.  They were very young.  And they looked so happy…  I loved seeing them.  I’m always one to be thrilled by other people’s joy.  🙂  It’s so good.  You know?  🙂

Today was like a holiday.  It was lovely…

Handsome, if you do read this…  thank you for being so exquisite.  You make my days brighter whether you read this, or whatever…   And I’m not recanting my previous post.  I just…  I…

I kept thinking of you the entire night.  Maybe you know that?  I wonder…  Either way, I thought of you…  constantly.

I’m not sure whether that’s a good of bad thing yet.

Maybe try mentioning something else if you really care or want me to know it’s been real…   I’m not getting Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner to any certain degree, but if you are trying, (and you might be, given subtle things you said??) how about the following.  I love it.  It’s serious… It’s sad…  but it’s so lovely.

From, Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats:

…Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
         Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
         Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
Already with thee! tender is the night,
         And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
                Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays;
                        But here there is no light,
         Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
                Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
         Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
         Wherewith the seasonable month endows
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
         White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
                Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves;
                        And mid-May’s eldest child,
         The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
                The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves…
Or if that’s too…  poetic…  how about tomatoes?  Seriously.  Tomatoes…
Anyway…    I wish the best for you.  I do…
I hope everyone had a nice Wednesday and has a nice a Thursday…

 

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