Weather.

It rains, and it rained earlier.

                                            

I walked to town, initially listening to "Out Of The Blue (And Into The Fire)" by The The. This is rather a more misogynistic song than I actually identify with. What attracts me, though, is the level of introspection the narrator reaches. The song is about the headspace he finds himself in when hiring a prostitute to "pull myself out of this nosedive/by proving something to myself". He's not just saying 'I did this'; he's saying 'I did this, because of this weakness.' It's also exactly in the most powerful part of my vocal range, so it's a lot of fun to sing. 

                                     

Anyway, that song ended, and I put on "Sunny Side of the Street" by The Pogues. And

                                

because Murphy is Lord, and a great ironic bastard,

                                            

The Sky Opened The Fuck Up, and drowned my iPod in my pocket. I don't know if it works still. 

                                          

As I was walking I put myself in a frame of mind that I would tolerate no more rain, and wasn't interested in the foolish notion that it was beyond my control; it's only weather, not the sanity, or heart of the love of my life ie things beyond any hope of my control. I've been thinking about magic lately, and the nature of reality-shaping. Prayers or Spells each work on the same fuel: belief. The rain slowed.

                                             

You're welcome.

         

I walked into town, did my bank business, and went to Dos to meet K., who was imparting to me a book she said I needed to read. She bought me lunch, and we talked. She asked the question I dread these days, especially from someone who actually wants to know: How Are You?

                                   

I can't lie; Tourette's makes it obvious if I do, and I won't insult a real friend thus. I told her. I talked about Wife who offended the hell out of me scant hours before, and about Crush, the two sources of intense feeling in my life right now. Wife, who is the source of my greatest (ever) consternation, anger, sadness, and hurt; Crush who gives fun, and friendship, and (for me) attraction without obligation.

I described the feeling for Crush as Category 5, which caused K. to laugh. She believes that crushing is like the weather on a nice day, something to enjoy while it's there, but transient, and impermanent. I can't disagree.

                             

But she put into perspective some of what I was saying: that I seemed to be giving up on love. 

                                       

Let's pause for a moment. This is important: K. and I are very much Pisces. Being called out on

                                           

Giving Up On Love

is akin to the scene in the movie The Prophesy where the angel Simon says to Gabriel "When did you lose your grace?"

                                                      

The gist was this: no matter what choices she has made, no matter situations are beyond my say, I still have a duty to my feelings for my Wife, to the honest, simple affection that is, and has always been. In order to not feel this I have to be someone I'm not, I have to force myself to act in ways contrary to my nature. 

                                                           

K. pointed out that I was embracing cruel, and negative feelings toward someone who means more to me than I can measure. I was speaking from a loss of trust, and respect, and letting hurt decide my character.

                                                

She also said that I could decide the story of my life, that of a loving artist, whose actions are dictated by love and affection and creativity. Or someone who lived by fear, and want, reacting to pain. She said she didn't think my story should be that of an asshole.

                                                      

I thought about it. I couldn't get past it. I love my Wife. That isn't dependent on how she treats me (even if I find said treatment cruel, thoughtless, and reprehensible at times). 

I love my Wife.

                                              

It's irrelevant if she wants not to be that. She is the one I married. I won't marry another. I believe this: unless they die you are married. I don't care what the circumstances are. You believe what makes sense to you. This is what's in me.

                                                                            
Catholics should feel the way I do about marriage.

                                               

Even if we are never together again, if we can't be in the same room, there will not be a time I don't love that woman. I know this because there has never been a time that I didn't love that woman. I may love another; I will not marry again. If I can't make a go with my "Always" I have no business pledging permanence to any other.

                                         

Earlier this week the CEO of Segway drove his Segway off a cliff. My callous response to that news was "What an Asshole." It's a cliff; how do you not notice you're about to drive off the edge?

                                      

Listening to K. I felt just like this man might have, had someone just said "Mind The Cliff!"

                                      

She appreciated that, actually smiling at the compliment, and stating a Warm Fuzzy Feeling at it.

                                        

There was also some talk about reality shaping, and psyche shaping that drew on my earlier musings, and expanded them.

                                       

By the time we left Dos the rain had restarted. It should be obvious that it was entirely due to my having plunged into my own emotional depths, and not maintained the needed mood to keep the weather from doing as it would. She returned to work, and I walked along with as that path led me right to Crush's shop. K. gave me, when I stated my intention, a look of amusement. "Just going to enjoy the weather?" I think she asked at one point; couldn't really for the sound of rain on my hood. 

                                             

"Crush is with someone, and I don't do that." So I guess that was a yes.

                                                                      

K. left me, and I went in to the shop, where I stayed most of the afternoon. It was fun, and silly, and easy. There was adolescent humor, and eruptions of snorting laughter. Just fun.

                                                                        

And the rain slowed, and even, for a time, stopped.