she says its the greatest force in the world
shes probably right
In any case, today I did something dumb and predicateable and had a lady macbeth experience.
I scoured her hard drive, and felt my blood thicken and my breast fill with gall.
sent around the predicated email (BCC).
the first people I told lst week were my friend sHeli and Steve. I sent them both texts. I'd just stayed with Heli in finland, and Steve is even more insomnious than me. N finland Heli mad eme realise just how much I missed close female friends. and Steve, is a close male friend. the kind I can ring at 1am and sob incoherently to for 3 hours.
The first person I emailed was Texta. I emailed her in Spanish coz she's in Guatemala, and I was at uni and didn't want to sob all over the keboard. I didn't realise how fluent she'd be after 2 months (she is a genius!). I shudder to think off what todo wiht the 5 duo portraits hanging on my walls. they're behind the bed so I don't look at them.
I'm been slowly telling people face to face. Today I told the uni crowd. My supervisor - who bought me a drink, and the ex HOD who had tears in her eyes. I had to look away. Yeah, its fucking sad. Another lecturer bought me a dirnk and gave me a great pep talk. blogs are meant for name dropping - but - yeah, there are fucking limits. There are some amazing people in the world.
one of them was my girlffirend until last week.
So after 2 G&T's I'm back in the postgrad centre, typing away my angst. Its another friday night. Abel is going to a concert of our musical dykey neighbours (OK so kath isn't a dyke but she's a dykon) at the funky dykey cafe around the corner.
One of my old friends Brioney - has a great girllfriend - from Brest - and they are fluent french speakers - and abel has aksed them aroudn for dinner and fuck part of me wants to be there. Play the game, fluent francophonic dykes, I love the language and I'm going to miss it. Counter to my academic aspirations - the french I know - is more brut, more simple honest unpretentious and candid than my english. Its the language of anna's family who I love - and its like speaking with my glasses off - I'm almost blind, fragile, naked. I wonder if I'll find the words to write to Abel's family and tell them. I cna't bear to think about this in french. Spanish - yeah - english now east -but les mots for breaking up don't quite arrive. Pas encore.
Am I being too much of a Bronte? Too self denying and self suffering and puritanical for my own good?
touch is like comfort. Of course I want to hold her, have her hold me, caress, kis and maybe even fornicate. No. Not that. My twat has frozen over. I want to cooke for her. I want things to be perfect. I've been wearing Gingham all week. Where' my pink picket fence?
gone gone gone. what a stupid dream anyway.
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