charismatic megafauna, and impending surrender

this is a conversation of emails ,
images and our surrounding environ.
an intimitate conversation during a brief visit at a rolling time of life.
researched, collaged, danced with.
these are a few pieces of paper left behind, scaps, clues, paper labrynth to take you to your own destination.
this is a story. at least part of the story, which every story is.
the thing with story as with life, is that we each have our own reality, our bubble through which the world comes. the spaces are left for you to paint yourself in.
please make your own soundtrack.


* * *
( a rambling late night email from melrose to m.ack, dec 23)

...next night, the girls, tarzan is back, mu gone north.
we meet redrum at the whip, and in the red paper laterns, high-ceilinged glow, we are all dressed up and illuminated by shimmering martinis.
two rounds deep, we waited on the third,
twittering through the noise.
to the basement of the alibi room our chariot gracefully placed us, we split the last of a party cap, glowing, not talking love but
dancing it.
the rest of the night was so ...
fine.
tarzan spun the tightest ride. kdub, queen of her game.
it was finer thatn the finest film i have seen recently.
the lights, the scenes, what changes, what remains, surrendering to the ride,
the barely noted observations that flicker deep, what clues are these for later?
it is all so..
really
i am crazy in love...




( from K to j, november)
mu looks very familiar and that is a very reashurring thing.
tarzan is back and in the words of Benjamin Andre "you're all I ever wanted and I'm terrified of you"
plays in my head like a mantra. Our relationship has intensified.  This time, I believe in his love for me and in the love we share.  All this time apart. all the times I have thought of him, I have asked for his return and he shows up. finally.  Yet

I am afraid....Why?
I do not question his love,
I do not question spiritual integrity, morality or anything on a deeper level.
He challenges me to think outside the box and I love that about him but it is also what scares the shit out of me.



we had the dance floor all to ourselves.
(the alibis: the postman came first.
then, it was in the mail.)
we took that dancefloor, piece by piece. dancing each dimension of it to love, friends, space:
weaving self through to exposure through to *surrender*

morphing like cells of blood pulsing through a vien.

(in *Subharmonic Frequencies*, a few pages deep...)
Surrender (a second to think)
Vocals: Saul Williams Music: Saul Williams

"Well, there're two ways I can say this. And one would be: fuck you! And there're no two ways around it, because one would be untrue. Because I love everything about you. But I don't want to be around you. If you control my heart will you control my brain? If I give in to you, will it still feel the same? 'Cause I want nothing more than to be here with you. If you fulfill my dreams, will that fulfill you too? I need a second. I need a second to think. Now, the other way to play this would be mellow, light, and, cool. Poetry and meditation. Higher ground and higher truth. Because I love everything about you. But I use everything to doubt you. If you control my heart will you control my brain? If I give in to you, will it still feel the same? 'Cause I want nothing more that to be here with you. If you fulfill my dreams, will that fulfill you too? I need a second. I need a second to think. I found the spot where truth echoes and know each beauty mark by heart. But I just can't keep her still enough to render perfect art. 'Cause the truth is ever changing and although she loves my touch, I've had my way, but I when I pray, she kisses back too much. And it's hard to feel real gangster when you're always getting kissed. But you jump at every pucker, 'cause your fear of getting dissed. I try not to fight the parts of me that want to kiss her back. Egos should be illegal. Mine just don't know how to act. He tells me I don't need her. I should walk this path alone. She's make believe. She's up my sleeve. I'd do better with a clone. But could it be? It seems to me that she's my other half. My inner-tarzan monkey girl, raised mainly by giraffes. And besides she makes me laugh. 'Cause deep down I think she's stupid. But deeper down, I'm just a clown starting bar room brawls with cupid, like, "Fuck that naked baby angel, yo! And gimme 2 more buttery nipples". And God just re-invents herself as ice-cubes in my ripple."






(an email from gillie to jayme, november sometime. )
(this is from another chapter, I cannot bring myself to *not* include it. the Darkness Is ever Present.)
. ...fueled by half understandings of impermanence and
meaningless and emptiness and releasing attachments and the futility of thoughts and wants....and i am not my thoughts, thank goddess, i am nothing separate than anything else.....so what do i do with this?
   
fu ji:
not 2.
shin do fu ji.
soil, human, not 2.

"blessed and lit.
bbbrrright. dont dim it
for darkies who squint."



the river is flowing fast now. let go of the shore.
do not cling to the shore or you will get smashed upon the rocks.
let go, ride it.
the time of the lone wolf is over. the romantic ideal of the lone wolf
wandering lonely her vast territory... all is integrally connected.
take nothing personal. not even yourself.

dec 3

i got an email from gillie today. gillie in the t.dot. in reply to the
sweet sauce little sister.
it a wonder to hear your words again; the tumultion of your thoughts, all pressed two dimentional, all that time squished so tight into this little screen, and i can taste you again. the smell of your finger tips. sounds like i am in love with you, and indeed i still am. toronto heh, you in t.dot.
at this moment i am back flat, 1 pm friday afternoon, kilis mattresses are on the floor by the door and i am flat on my back with a computer on my piillowed lap. it is raining out. kili, who i call mu, is working at the coop. the friday afternoon shift. he is as bouyant and dramatic as ever with everyone. we woke up this morning holding hands with our foreheads pressed together. who woke up first? did we wake at the same time?
we are getting married on the equinox. this is what we tell people, have told people, and confirm with each other every few days or so. for the last three weeks, we still agree. black haired green eyed tatooed man. in him i see every other lover i have had, in a moment, some random gesture. mu!
so i have put my back out.
sneezed tues morn,
suffered through the day.
cried for the next 36 hours, unable to put on my own socks.
humility. shame. money, stress. expectations, change, failure, dealing.

the book Chocolat; sweet goddess thank you;
reading, my first true love.
and it rains.

the barn box tea shoppe has been a wonderous success so far, and many people have ideaed contingency plans for me. everything i dreamed; me dispensing medicines, listening to the herbs and the people talking, facilitating conversations, and soon the conversations have no need of me, but to pour another cup and pass it accoss the counter.
the last weekend will be fresh croissants (!), ali making Indian chai and an Indian feast sat night to give thanks, tables to sell things from, a craft corner. everyone invited.
the gourge hall dance on sat was amazing. mu and i e'd. danced. i was glossy, he was wildeyed and blackhaired bouncing; felt the corners of eyes watching us, as he told of our engagement, who is that redhead tea girl? and the place was littered with his ex-girlfriends. in the omipotence of the dancing, we danced, teasing each other across the floor, tied and untied, with the invisible blinding white light of love dripping off, flowing between us. we awoke at channel rock, and all day the wind did not blow. not even a little. blue heron overhead. sauna. ocean swimm, phospheresence. the wolves howling. sauna.
today it is rainy. as of dec 15 life will change again.
thank you for the briefs tastes of your fingers again,
i know we are not far.
with all my passionate love for and faith in
you
jahmu


us arted by professer mu

i do know this note dances personal indeed; beds drugs and levity that could be taken as arrogance, surely. And on to the internet, where friends of mine, friends of mu's, the sweet legions of ex's we still tender for, all here have access.
But the transparency of these words on a black background is too delicious to deny.

a piece of paper with my name on it,
a puddle that reflects the sun...

I am on the floor, listening to sweet voice of Graceroad, my good friend Ami,
and the rain on the roof, letting my back chill out a bit before i begin to layer teas sweet into glass jars, apply art and pray that with all energy, as with money, the flows are open and i am an open flow.

love
jayme maggie melrose ( ... )