2002-03-07 - 9:03 p.m. "my mouth blooms like a cut..." For a moment in time, I stopped writing. I stopped listening to music. I stopped reading books. I stopped baking cookies. I stopped enjoying my life. Every day, I got up, ate the breakfast placed in front of me, went to work, came home, ate the dinner placed in front of me, then went to bed. Yes, there were small breaks in this monotony. Sometimes (but only every so often), we brought other people into our planet of two. But my boy would have been happy to have spent the entirety of each day by my side. Food and love and physical intimacy become intertwined. The dinner so lovingly created, with its clever twists and subtle textures acts as the seduction, the foreplay, or, as a replacement for the love. But after a while, if you don't want to be the center of someone's universe, you feel like a calf being fattened for the slaughter, and become unable to choke down the dishes so lovingly prepared. Your hunger leaves you, never to return. That's when you know it's over. Oddly enough, hunger may also leave you for love. When you meet someone who makes your heart beat faster and makes you aware of every minute in the day between when you last saw them or read their words and the next time, the hunger for food goes away. Unlike the hunger that is replaced with emptiness when love leaves, this hunger leaves a hunger of a different sort in its place. My words do a sorry attempt to explain my thoughts. Luckily, Anne Sexton captured it so well: My nerves are turned on. I hear them like musical instruments. Where there was silence the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this. Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped into fire. good night... any comments? (0 so far) previous - next recently on almostgoldsf... in defense of an email box I came to do battle with SPAM - 2008-05-17 hello 2006 - 2005-12-31 Happy Thanksgiving - 2005-11-14 bon voyage - 2005-11-05 October already? - 2005-10-09