and we're lost in a daze for days and days and days and now

This is going to take a while to sort through, but I think it's worth it--it is a gargantuan list of free fiction books, textbooks, childrens' books, plays, non-fiction works, cookbooks...with a special section at the bottom of books that are not free, but valued nonetheless, and how to find them. Have at.

Meanwhile, in the midst of some...very odd happenings...on the Isle, this started:

[10:31] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: nice tits ;)

Really? That's your opener?

[10:32] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): ...Thank you? Have we met?
[10:33] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: not really just from your profile photo to be honest

Well, you're off to a stupendous start, truly.

[10:33] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, all right.
[10:34] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: i hope i did not bother you emilly

And in the midst of clicking the window closed, I stopped. Huh. Random idiots usually don't apologize.

[10:34] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): No, no, it was just out of nowhere. :)
[10:34] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: oh yeah i saw your profile in a group chat and i like the photo
[10:35] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr) smiles

No idea what group, because none of his openly shown groups match any of mine, but okay.

[10:36] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: and your partner is a very lucky guy btw
[10:36] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, thank you.

Though, you know, I come down on the other side of that. I think I'm very lucky.

[10:38] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: can i ask you the usual questions

If you type a/s/l, I swear...

[10:38] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Sure.
[10:38] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: where are you from

And then things kicked into gear on the Isle, expect that in a later entry, and I got a tad bit distracted.

[10:40] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: is it bad question
[10:41] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): No no
[10:41] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Just something else was happening
[10:41] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): U.S.
[10:41] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: nice to meet . im from jordan
[10:42] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Oh, wow!
[10:42] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: far away . right ? :D

Yeah. Also, this fellow was literally the second person from Jordan I'd ever run across. (Sure, there could easily have been others, but I mean, people who told me where they were from.)

[10:45] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: you seems busy now ;)

I kind of was. There were tentacles.

[10:45] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: hope we talk sometime
[10:46] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): It is far away, and sorry, RP picked up somewhere. :)
[10:47] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: cool . enjoy your RP . can i add you to chat sometime
[10:47] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Sure.
[10:47] Second Life:
[10:47] Second Life: Friendship offer accepted.

I must be losing my edge.

[10:47] Second Life: [wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx] is online.
[10:47] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: ty
[10:48] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: enjoy the rp . and we gonna talk about the RP next time
[10:48] wxxxxxxxx Rxxxxxxx: enjoy
[10:48] Emilly Shatner-Orr (emilly.orr): Thanks!

And then we got back to trying to kill, sedate or banish the Thing From Beyond the Door...but...I don't know. I guess I was in a good mood? We'll see how this goes. In the end, he wasn't a COMPLETE idiot, so...new friend?

[Note from the Editrix: This was up for nearly a full day before someone pointed out I'd left the fellow's name visible. Please accept that was not the intention. He's a decent guy, he just had an utterly crap opening line.]

help me get away from myself

(Note from the Editrix: obviously, now, this is one of the entries that was written before the one posted on the 21st. Just FYI.)



when I get home from my job I turn on my TV
but I can't keep my mind on the show
when I lay down at night, oh I can't get no sleep
so I turn on my radio--

Another night, another frantic search for things to distract. It's becoming a habit. Not sure if it's a good one, yet, or if it's just what I've got right now.



but the only sound I hear is you whisperin' in my ear
the words that you used to say--

Yeah, I'm obsessing. Every time I think I'm out of the spin cycle and back on even ground...And the dreams are just getting worse. Or better. Not sure which, honestly... Only that they're making me want to itch out of my skin.



now my days grow longer
'cause my love grows stronger
and the fever gets worse
and I've got the fever for this guy

It's not...precisely love, is the issue. It's more...trying to think through hormones. And I must be putting out some very odd ones, because the same thing that's keeping the casuals away when I wander through 'girls in danger' sims are pulling other guys out of the trees with offers. I'm so confused.



got the fever, oh I've got the fever
nothing that a poor girl can do

And no, it hasn't escaped my attention that the offers I'm trying for, I'm not getting, where the offers I hadn't anticipated at all are the ones drifting past my startled gaze.



when she's got the fever for this guy
got the fever, oh, I've got the fever
left this little girl blue

Especially the last one, the fellow who spent over an hour talking with me out of the blue. No, I'm not saying which one. Though yes, he has come up on the blog. (That is not a small list, which is why I feel relatively safe mentioning it.) Let's just say it's not someone I ever expected to get an offer from again...

And...it's not helping...because right now, I could so see giving in, just out of general--frustration? Need? Psychosis? All three?--and...that might be very bad.



I can remember comin' home, I see you standin' at the stove
with the dishes on the table, dinner ready to go
we'll maybe go out to a movie show
something that you like to see

I think it was at this point I just gave up for the night and put panties back on. Why yes, I have reached that stage. Joy and rapture. I swear, the next week I'm going to wear full Victorian morning dresses with all the under-layers, a veil, and button-up boots that take half an hour of persistence and a buttonhook to get out of again. Or find something else to do that takes the bulk of my brain power. Try to learn Russian again. Or quantum physics. Something, anything, that is less damaging to my self-esteem and general sense of self.



well, now, you are my sun in the morning
and my moon at night
I think about you baby, I feel all right
now my days grow longer
'cause my love grows stronger
and the fever gets worse--

On the one hand, I've finally broken free of the Matchbox Twenty obsession, but now I've just got this playlist on repeat. I keep adding songs to it, too, whenever I remember one that made my breath catch.

BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW, RIGHT??

(Insert from the Editrix: That list now has a few 'this is hell' songs mixed in, and I refuse to apologize for those. They're all meaningful for where I am, and it's my playlist, so that's that.)



got the fever, oh I've got the fever
nothing that a poor girl can do
when she's got the fever for this guy
got the fever, oh, I've got the fever
left this little girl blue

I'll come up with something. I have to come up with something, because I'm going out of my mind. Gods, you'd think someone had noticed all this sensuality and desire pointed towards one person and decided to cut that person off from me. Go figure.

But there has to be a way out. I am not a ferret, I do not die from lack of sex. Or touch. I can do this. People do this every day.

(Of course the ultimate irony in all this is--my current employment is somewhat tailor-made for the solution, save for...no, for a variety of odd reasons. Maybe it's time to lower my standards.)

(Pictures taken at Avalon Park, Greystone Harbor, Kingdom of Agraba, Bay of Dreams, The Labyrinth and Mirage Motel 66. Lyrics from She's Got the Fever by the Pointer Sisters.)

and we went from zero to everything all in a day

Yes, I'm definitely in a rut. But at least it's a "fun" one (so to speak), and I'm seeing a lot of sims. And I've even found one or two I want to revisit, which is pretty neat overall. Plus, I'm kind of encouraging it, because--at least at first--it was getting me out of my head and letting me think.

It's not exactly doing that now, but...I'm still having fun taking pictures? So there will be several more of these coming out in July, and then they'll start to be more scattershot.



it was a cold 3 a.m. at JFK
I guess you stayed because you wanted to stay
and we went from zero to everything all in a day
and then Kennedy took you away

So. Let's unpack the situation a bit. Let's talk motivations.

I thought of a short robe that was keeping you warm
and the moments that make up your life 'til you wake up
you sit on a swing in the dark with a girl
and she tells you she wanted to kiss you

Mainly, this is me still trying to pin down an exact cause, because that's worked so well so far, right?



and you know
the worst part of a good day
is hearing yourself say goodbye to one more possibility day
it goes on and on

Let's bring up the lure of the forbidden. Could that be it? Sure. Ban anything and I get curious. Usually not to the extent of going after it directly, unless we're talking films, and...well, let's just say I wasn't able to finish watching Salo, and I never even tried to get through A Serbian Film because of the ending (and, gentles all, for the love of anything you hold holy, do not click those links unless you're prepared to be seriously disturbed. I'm not kidding). I'm still going back and forth on whether I actually need to see any of the Guinea Pig films from Japan, because...yeah, there just may be some sights I don't need to feed my brain.

I go west but your weather has changed
you’re just scared, I mistake it for strange
when you want me to leave
then you start to believe I should stay
but I gotta get out of LA

But how does the saying go? Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back? Well, at least in the case of disturbing films, or disturbing music, disturbing visuals, disturbing fetishes...this cat may get curious, I may go somewhere to get my queries answered, but I rarely end up satisfied at the end of the discovery.



it seems like the short days are over
'cause you just don't sleep in the daylight so I don't sit up nights
I lie on my back on the top of a hill
and your body is breaking the sky

I mean, it doesn't stop me, but...it rarely makes me happy.

'cause you're shaking
and the worst part of a good day is knowing it's slipping away
that's one more possibility day that is gone

All right. So, that's not so much of a surprise. What about general acting out? It's universally a patch of illogic in children that if they're not getting attention, then any attention, good or bad, becomes desirable. Of course, negative attention usually makes the acting out worse, because no child actually wants negative reinforcement...

we were waiting for winter this year
but you came and it never appeared
me and you, we know too many reasons
for people and seasons that pass like they weren't even here

So if it's not precisely the ban itself--or, at least, not entirely--does it default to...well, 'brattiness'? For lack of a better term.



now 'living in smiles is better', you say
but we carry the burdens of all of our days
so I'm scared that you'll leave, and you're scared that I'll stay
it's an impossibility day
and we only saw half the ballet

I'm not a child, but I have retained several 'acting out' behaviors into adulthood. Chief among them--if I'm nagged to do a thing, I will put it off later out of sheer stubbornness. I tell myself it's a bad trait, I attempt to change it, but any challenge across that tentative resolve sends me right back into past pattern. Every damned time.

I said goodnight, goodbye
it seems like a good thing, so you know it’s a good lie
you can run out of choices
and still hear a voice in your head when you're lying in bed

But that has its incomplete areas as a working theory, too. One, I'm with someone who's used to brattiness, and knows exactly how to quell it, and, well...a, that takes some of the 'fun', twisted though it may be, out of it, and b, it is making me less 'bratty' overall, which...honestly, may have been the point.



and it says that the best part of a bad day is knowing it's okay
the color of everything changes
the sky rearranges its shade and your smile doesn't fade
into a phone call and one bad decision we made

If it's not that...is it my brain trying to think around corners? Or in this case, trying to phase through the goddamn bricks in the wall? Yeah, maybe. I am known both to self-sabotage, and to look for any and all loopholes. For someone as rigorously devoted to obeying the rules, I am quite the determined anarchist when I want to be.

and the worst part of a good day is the one thing you don't say
and you don't know how but you wish there was some way
so you pull down the shades and you shut off the lights
because somehow we mixed up 'goodbye' and 'goodnight'

So if it's only partially being denied, and not, or at least, not completely, acting out or loophole-seeking, then...I mean, we can default to the basic 'I miss him', and sure, that's there, but it's not the why I keep spinning in circles.



and the one thing you won't say is
'everyone knows possibility days are impossible'
it just feels wrong, so wrong
still, you're gone, long gone

Because I've missed people before. With very few exceptions, everyone who's broken up with me, and in all honesty, one or two I broke up with, I wasn't ready at that point to completely let them go. So maybe that should be added to the theory list--unwillingness to detach. Or separate. Or...I'm sure there's a better way to phrase it, I'm not finding the particular word currently.

Eventually, I'll figure it out, or I'll just shrug and accept I am my own worst psychotherapist and move on. Could go either way, honestly.

Pictures taken at the Dark Citadel, Whimsy, Crumbi Rail Station, the Night Court, New Orleans by Night, Quiddity and celeste.sanct. (Lyrics from Possibility Days by Counting Crows.)

I want you the right way

yeah, I can see it now
the distant red neon shivered in the heat
I was feeling like a stranger in a strange land
you know, where people play games with the night
god, it was too hot to sleep

Another day, more self-reflection. It's becoming a theme. But I did make it through without a major inciting incident, so that's a plus. And it's still in the nature of a lifeline--the people I trust, trust me. Flip side of that is I'm still not always sure I trust me, but--they do. And if they do, they have to have a reason. So, above and beyond how untrustworthy I feel, I have support that I'm worth their trust.

I can work from there, if from nowhere else.

I followed the sound of a jukebox coming from up the levee
all of a sudden, I could hear somebody whistling from right behind me
I turned around, and she said
"why do you always end up down at Nick's Cafe?"
I said, "Uh, I don't know, the wind just kinda pushed me this way"
she said, "Hang the rich"

Of course, everything's still very much up in the air. Sexual tension ramping up to a fever pitch, at least for me, and for the other two, they are currently in no place to do anything about it, so...I'm going to have to figure out something (relatively) safe to do, because the old outlets won't precisely work, either. Though I am becoming very tempted to freelance.



catch the blue train
places never been before
look for me
somewhere down the crazy river
(somewhere down the crazy river)

So, patchwork. And patch work. Shoring up the breaks in the structure, though thankfully there weren't as many as feared. Momentary lapse of everything, but back to moving. Fairly sure the tinder box still holds bones...but we'll deal with that when it's time to deal with that.

ooh, catch the blue train
all the way to Kokomo
you can find me
somewhere down the crazy river
(somewhere down the crazy river)

We're back to steady state, more or less.

take a picture of this
the fields are empty, abandoned '59 Chevy
laying in the back seat listening to Little Willie John
yeah, that's when time stood still
you know, I think I'm gonna go down to Madam X
and let her read my mind
she said, "That voodoo stuff don't do nothing for me"

We make our choices, we roll the dice, we try to do what's right--at least for us--along the way. Every single person is just making it up as they go along; some are just better at playing the game than others.

No one knows the future, not even the people who do, because the future can always, always change. And ofttimes more suddenly than we thought possible.



I'm a man with a clear destination
I'm a man with a broad imagination
you fog the mind, you stir the soul
I can't find no control

That is the current issue, yes. Finding that tricky balance between loss of all control, and too controlled to inhale properly, and holding the center point. Now, I have always tended towards over-controlled, the unconscious spasms and stumbling notwithstanding, and it has been a constant effort just to get myself to let go once in a while.

I think I'd reached a place where that was possible, even if only occasionally, but now...I have to find that place again. The path I took the last time no longer exists.



catch the blue train
places never been before
look for me
somewhere down the crazy river
(somewhere down the crazy river)

Names change, ideas change, places change, maps reconfigure. It happens. Granted, usually it's more or less imperceptible, and not something starting out as one thing, one idea, one shade of reality, and ending up something else entirely, but I've had that happen too. It's not unknown.

ooh, catch the blue train
all the way to Kokomo
you can find me
somewhere down the crazy river
(somewhere down the crazy river)

It's more mercurial than I like my reality, but I don't get to choose. The future shifts, the past erases, the present restores--everything's in motion, in flux, and I'm just learning to float. Too much chance of undertow to swim. Will dog-paddling be okay?



wait, did you hear that?
oh, this is sure stirring up some ghosts for me
she said, "There's one thing you gotta learn
is not to be afraid of it"
I said, "No, I like it, I like it, it's good"
she said, "You like it now
but you'll learn to love it later"

I'm frequently afraid of things. Mostly things in me, patches of damage, locked doors in the backbrain, the things in boxes I don't dare unpack right now. All the shadows in all the corners. They've always been there, though, or at least as long as I can remember.

Which does speak to a dark personal history that goes back some distance, and you would not be wrong, and that's all I'm saying here. I've come to terms with enough of it to function. That's really all I need until something else goes bang.



I been spellbound
falling in trances
I been spellbound
falling in trances
you give me the shivers
chills and fever

And sure, all of this? It touched on a lot of old issues. Some things I thought I'd resolved, some things I clearly hadn't, but I'm taking them in order when I can. Occasionally several issues attack at once, but that's hardly unusual either.

you give me the shivers
you give me the shivers
I been spellbound
I been spellbound
I been spellbound
(somewhere down the crazy river)
somewhere down the crazy river

It just hasn't happened for a while.

But one way or another, I get through this. No new (visible) scars, stopped that long ago. No life-threatening episodes, though there was, and may still be, more of personal recklessness in this than I maybe want, long-term. I'll eventually stop throwing myself off of cliffs to see if I can fly.

Though sometimes I have, so, y'know, girl's gotta try.

(Pictures taken at Lucifer's Lounge in Hell, Ostoja, Quicksand Cove and Salt Beach. Lyrics are Robbie Robertson's Somewhere Down the Crazy River.)

can we still be friends?

we can't play this game anymore
but can we still be friends?
things just can't go on like before
but can we still be friends?

That is the plan. Nights like last night, though, erode all my resolve to just aim for friendship. Last night's dreaming was...easy, and difficult, both, and...neither I say lightly. They weren't nightmares, which is a huge relief, but they were intense, overwhelming, compelling...erotic.



we had something to learn
now it's time for the wheel to turn
grains of sand, one by one
before you know, it's all gone

It started out with flashbacks, with reliving memories, with embedding into lived experience. This is not unusual--I tend to fall into memories, recollections, sense events, with sometimes appalling regularity. But this was...different. If I didn't know better, if I didn't understand the distinctions being made, if I did not, in fact, know that I was dreaming--I would have sworn I was not alone in the bed, that there was another beside me, playing all the chords to encourage me to sing.



let's admit we made a mistake
but can we still be friends?
heartbreak's never easy to take
but can we still be friends?

And more charnel bones tipped into the firebox, heat becoming intense, because, right now, I can't think about this with a calm and cool head. I can still hear his whispered urging, still feel the play of heated breath over my skin, and I have to keep telling myself this was just a dream.



it's a strange sad affair
sometimes seems that we just don't care
don't waste time feeling hurt
we've been through hell together

And if there wasn't something my subconscious thought I should realize, my brain wouldn't be tormenting me with drunken sensual remembrance; I know that. A lot of times it just breaks down to my brain being a consummate teenager, pouting because the parental units just don't understand, cannot understand, they've forgotten how it feels to be seventeen and in serious lust...And again, I know that. To put it in less flattering terms, this is my subconscious kicking the traces. I get it.

But.



it's a strange sad affair
sometimes seems that we just don't care
don't waste time feeling hurt
we've been through hell together

But, when my dreams turn like this, it is occasionally hard to remember that it's just defiant immaturity. Last night, especially...Let me be clear: while nightmares are a constant, I have never, not once, had a nightmare of someone I trusted not accepting no for an answer. This is key. (And the downside of that is, yes, if I stop trusting someone, they've occasionally turned up as torturers in the nightly plays, disobeying all previous rules.)



can we still be friends
can we still get together sometimes?

That is, thankfully one line, at least, my brain refuses to cross. But I know I was begging--abject, audibly, shuddering, pleading, the 'no', the 'stop', so very nearly on my lips, but...never...never...explicitly uttered.

Thought, though. Begging, though. Begging for--surcease? Release? Mercy? Whatever it was, it wasn't given, and I woke in much the same state--shuddering, gasping, still whispering please, unable to draw in a full breath for sweeping pleasure. And I had to struggle to get my breathing back under control.

Exactly as if I had not been alone...



hey babe, can we still go on?

I won't say I'd rather have nightmares. My brain is far too facile with evisceration scenarios, so thank you, no, they can stay down with the alligators. But that dream has stayed with me all day, every time I close my eyes, a series of entwined jolts, gasps, and want, the still-intense desire searing through me, the flames still high.

So...yes. There are things still to work on. Obviously.



we awoke from our dream,
things are not always what they seem
memories linger on
it's like a sweet, sad, old song

It may just take time. Remove the immediacy of recollection, erase the sharp edges, fuzz the sensory recall. Let the days pass into weeks, and into months, and into years, until I can think back on sensuality shared and just have the occasional twinge and smile.

At least...that's the hope. Dear gods, if it stays this intense...that will...not be good for me.

And of course, the question now circling the steam tower...

can we still be friends?

I still want that. I do. I still think it's possible. I think we have taken strides forward to reworking things from fevered need to friendly discourse, and I...think...we have a good chance to remain on that path.

But nights like last night...they do make the end goal less assured, and more desperate. And they practically ensure that the next time I spend time, in person, with him...that I will be very locked down, all the unease back, all that flinching fear back, and it had just started to ebb, damn it.

And every time I close my eyes... Maybe it's time to stay awake for a while.

(Photos taken on the Vaak Rift sim [Adult], Kralovstvi Temple Court [Moderate], Masija [Adult], Black Nest [Moderate] and Angelstar Manor on Isla Ballenas [Adult]. Lyrics from Robert Palmer's Can We Still Be Friends?)

oh, oh, heaven knows, we belong way down below

I'm Miss Autonomy, Miss Nowhere
I'm at the bottom of me
Miss Androgyny, Miss Don't Care
what I've done to me

I've been overthinking a lot this past week. (No, really? I would never have guessed that. Yes, yes, hush.) Partially because, it's been a while since I've been stuck in the spin cycle, and I'd forgotten how circular everything gets. But partially, also, because I keep trying to dissect the maelstrom, and then getting irked when thoughts get snatched out of my hand by the storm. I mean, that's sort of the point, but I'm so busy trying to reconstruct I'm not paying attention. Surprises me every damn time.



I am misused like I wanted to
be not your slave
misguided, high-minded
I'm missing the train

And...the core of what I keep trying to dig through is...is this reaction excessive? Is it just drama for drama's sake at this point? Normally, I'd just nod and move on, but...that's not it. Or...not entirely it.



and I don't know where I've been
and I don't know what I'm into
and I don't know what I've done to me

There is, or..at least seems to be...some genuine loss I'm mourning, here. It's not just the physical, though again--that is part of it, wrapped up in the same straps and belts as the rest. It's more...ephemeral. More...insubstantial. Far less tangible than I need it to be.



and as I watch you disappear into the ground
my one mistake was that I never let you down
so I'll waste my time and I'll burn my mind
I'm Miss Nothing, I’m Miss Everything

And standing here, on the edge of so many different cliffs, I'm trying to see everything clearly, and not get distracted by every other annoyance in my life. And that inchoate, trembling center I'm trying to narrow in on, I think it's wrapped around some very core concepts of self, and attitude, and inclination.



I'm Miss Fortune, Miss So Soon
I'm like a bottle of pain
Miss Matter, you had her
now she's going away

I overthink, yes, but the other side of that coin is I am very much a creature of impulse. And those impulses largely drive me--into relationships, into arguments, into breakups, into loss. I fear change, but I embrace risk. At least...up to a point.



I'm misused, Miss Construed
I don't need to be saved
Miss Slighted, high-minded
I’m stuck in the rain

So, sure, I can peer in from the outside and say, yes, this is a tad excessive. And I can tell myself all I want to just buck up, process things, and get back on the train. Because there are places to go, people to crash into. Right?

But...that's not it. I mean, yes, it is, but...that vibrating core tells me different. That's telling me to pay attention. That's telling me I'm missing something, and it may be something big.

And I'm still dreaming. And the nightmares are back.



and as I watch you disappear into my head
well, there's a man who's telling me I might be dead

And I think part of it comes down to...trust paired with confusion. The trust is there, it's not unquestioning, but it's reliable. But the confusion is also threaded through, because...well, when all this started, when the two-week limit was handed down, at the very first? I thought it was a joke. I was playing along until it was made clear that no, this was a serious proposal.



so I'll waste my time and I'll burn my mind
I'm Miss Nothing, I’m Miss Everything

And then everything that followed gave me bigger things to deal with than puzzlement, so it's only now I'm getting back to it.

I'll sort everything, eventually. I know that. We categorize, we pattern, we label, we evaluate, and a large bit of that is still useful past the paleolithic. And some things are just going to take time. It's just in between, I find the layers wrapped around everything a bit...odd. I keep stumbling on the search for the path.

I'll get there. I'll find it again. I have the tools. Everything is just...odd, right now, strained and strange and stranding, and may remain so for some time.

Like that's new, but...still.

for God's sake, turn around

Is it a good sign or a bad sign that I'm back to watching for certain names to pop up on the friendslist? I'll leave that as a philosophical exercise while I decide.

And, as expected, my brain has started playing back Certain Moments of memory in dreams. Because my brain hates me. Times like this, I really mislike the way I'm wired.

Anyway.

So here's a morbid bit of irony for you, but I have to fill in a bit of history first.

go placidly amid the noise and waste
and remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof
avoid quiet and passive persons, unless you are in need of sleep

I've never been a great photographer, in any world. It's been a minor passion, but never a vocation. I have Flickr, I have Instagram, I have three different digital cameras (although two of them no longer work well, and the third is starting to get some odd hitches now and again, so I should just toss all three and upgrade to an actually better working single one).

rotate your tires.
speak glowingly of those greater than yourself,
and heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys.

Sometimes, I even remember to take one of them out with me when I venture into the world, though I'm sorry to say, I've taken far more images on my cell phone than with the actual cameras I own. That's somewhat disquieting.

know what to kiss, and when.
consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do.
wherever possible, put people on hold.

But that brings us to SL. See, in RL, I was never a tripod person so much. So while I take relatively few pictures, almost none of them are of me. (None of the three cameras have timers, either, so...there's that.) But in SL? In SL I have a fully independent, 360° camera that can work both from a fixed position and in motion.

be comforted that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment,
and despite the changing fortunes of time,
there is always a big future in computer maintenance.

And, to that end, I've taken a lot of pictures in SL. Portraits (because the one model who's always around is me), effects, scenery, game glitches, general oddity, even a few videos. And, me being me, quite a number of them are, shall we say, adult in nature.

remember the Pueblo.
strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and mutilate.
know yourself.
if you need help, call the FBI.

Now, I'm not Jeffree Star, I don't take pictures for the blackmail potential. That is vile and beneath not only me, but anyone I've shared with. That is so very far from the point of having those images in the first place.

exercise caution in your daily affairs,
especially with those persons closest to you -
that lemon on your left, for instance.
be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls
would scarcely get your feet wet.

So why do I have them? Memories, mainly. Words are good, and flashbacks are lovely--well, most of the time--but there's just something about a photograph...The power of the image transcends, in short.

fall not in love therefore. It will stick to your face.

GODS, you're not kidding...

Which brings us, in typical roundabout fashion, to that other bruised heart. (Remember the past week? Yeah, that fellow.) For some reason, while we were sharing with each other, I took relatively few pictures. I couldn't even tell you why. (And let's be clear here--I don't mean I have 100 of this guy, and 450 of that guy, and 566 of that girl...no no no. I don't keep a lot of the very personal pictures. But even among the small collections I have, pictures of that particular gentleman? I just don't have many.)

gracefully surrender the things of youth: birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan.
and let not the sands of time get in your lunch.
hire people with hooks.
for a good time, call 606-4311. Ask for Ken.

Save for...the last time we were together. (Ah, now you're seeing the morbid irony. Yes.) I have a scant few pictures of a small, small handful of other times, but I have about six or eight from that time.

take heart in the bedeepening gloom
that your dog is finally getting enough cheese.
and reflect that whatever fortune may be your lot,
it could only be worse in Milwaukee.

And...the normal pattern is, or has been, to wait a few days, then cull through the raws, pick out the best angles, and ditch the rest. Because after all, they're just for me. They're never going to go into galleries or posters or on the Marketplace. Right?

And it's not like there won't be other times...right? Right?

Right...

you are a fluke of the universe.
you have no right to be here.
and whether you can hear it or not,
the universe is laughing behind your back.

Except...I know when I took those shots. I know--now--it was the last time. The last time there will be. And...I keep catching them when going through other images, and clicking one or two, and then closing them again, because I'm still far too close to everything to even begin to evaluate.

therefore, make peace with your god,
whatever you perceive him to be - hoary thunderer, or cosmic muffin.
with all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban renewal,
the world continues to deteriorate.
give up!

I am sincerely torn between packaging those up in a zip file to be dealt with much, much later, and doing my usual cull-and-edit bit, but...there are no second chances. And the question in the forefront of the brain is, should I keep everything because it was the last time? Should I treat those shots as any other encounter? Am I ever going to have a 'hah, yeah, I remember that' moment from these shots, or will they always carry that slight flinching ache?

I honestly couldn't tell you, right now. But it is another question to ponder.

(The lyrics, so to speak, since it's mostly a spoken-world piece save for the chorus, are from National Lampoon's "Deteriorata", which was narrated by Christopher Guest.)

an ounce of peace is all I want for you; will you never call again?

Here again. Every time. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, but after this many burning wrecks ablaze? It feels too consistent to be casual, too fateful to be fancy, and...at some point, one must sit at the mirror and recognize the source of the problem.

And...I wish there was a simple explanation, I wish I had a facile description, neatly boxed and bowed. I wish I had an etched map to show you the constellations that led to this, the shoals that drew us in to crash at the shore. I wish for so many things.



But mostly, mostly, I wish I had that time I was told I had. The promised two weeks turned to two days and I was not prepared, I was not prepared for what was to come.

And I wish, I wish more than anything, I could explain what we both got wrong. Because it took both of our hands on the rudder to steer us here. This rocky landing was not accidental.

And we both forgot the rules, and lest that sound innocuous, they were rules clearly explained to both of us, to which we both agreed. We are both in the wrong. It is not just you, it is not just me, it is both of us leaving the path for the wild woods.

Never leave the path.



But the most frustrating thing, the thing that claws at my soul and pries open my eyes in hours indigo is--I am fighting, so hard, so very hard, not to fall back on old patterns. So hard to maintain necessary distance, and give us both time to recover. It is past pattern and it is born talent to make any situation worse. Because I am so, so very good at being kerosene for any fire. It is a gift.

I never wanted this, but it doesn't matter. I never wanted you hurt, but here we are. I want to rail at you for not thinking, for being laissez-faire with both our hearts and minds, but...I'd be screaming at myself, as well. Because I knew, even if I decided to ignore it. I knew and did it anyway. I knew, and justified bending the rules, then breaking them, because of the injustice of circumstance.

And you knew too. And you encouraged me anyway, because it got you what you wanted. Because it was easier. Because you had no respect for the rest of my life. Because because because, and again--it no longer matters. We cannot go back, we don't know if we can go forward, so we are stuck here.



Frozen in place. Relearning how to breathe without being locked up tight. Trying to dissolve that core of tension, resinous and thick, poured down my throat, the gelled frustration that locks my words behind clenched teeth and makes my hands shake.

I still have no words but pallid reassurances that yes, at some point, I will be willing to talk. That yes, I would like to accept friendship if it's what can be offered. That yes, I do want to see you again...at some point. Some point not now, when I can see you and not want...everything we had.

And yes, of course I miss you. I miss the conversations, I miss the heady discoveries day by day. I miss the sensations you were so very good at bringing me, of course I miss that. Gods, I miss that.



But no, that will never happen again. And if that means I cannot see you, cannot stand in your presence, even holding you at arms' length...then that is what it will take. I am untrustworthy around you. That is the galling, inescapable truth, painted across my consciousness. I cannot escape this truth. I cannot, will not, deny that I have failed to this extent, that I am this unwilling to control myself, that I would rather not think and just feel and vaguely hope there will be no consequences.

The consequences are here. They are dire, and they hurt, and I will be changed by both the knowledge and the pain of separation, but...that is what we are left with. This is where we are. The rocky shore, the splintered shale rocks to cut our feet, the stairs up the cliff that break and send us tumbling back down to the broken spaces, again and again. This...is all...we have left.

And it will hurt us, either way--traveling alone, finding the far distance, or trying to determine what path is safe together. When all I want to do is collapse on the shore, and weep until I have no breath left. That is mindless self-indulgence I can't afford.

And oh, I wish. And oh, I want. And oh, I hoped. And none of it mattered. None of it does matter, and I will not gainsay the one who brought us here. who forced the separation, because that way lies doubt I do not possess and mistrust I do not feel. But the almosts...the nearly-weres...those are haunting me.

Last night I dreamed I was in a large, dark house. Murmurings from voices, words I could not make out, drifted to my ears from distant rooms, but I wasn't looking for company. I was searching, room by room, drawer by drawer, cabinet to closet to cupboard, over and over. Searching for something I never found.

It doesn't take a genius to translate the meaning. There's no subtext. I suppose I should be grateful that it was frustrated searching over the feeling of your fingers on my skin, but I would have felt distress for either. And I know with great surety those dreams are coming, because my brain is a rebel, and those will bring me to very melancholy dawns.



And none of it matters. The decisions are made, the statues are toppled, the glass is shattered. We are now in the ebb of destruction, and all that remains are deciding which pieces to pick up, and which ones to leave behind.

And I wish. I wish. One more day, one more hour, one more minute, one more kiss...but wishes gain me nothing. I cannot live in should anymore, I cannot survive on unfair and not right. I cannot live...wanting what we had back again.

But I can live without you. Because I must. Because I have to. Because there is no other choice. Because my choices were made for me, but I was the one who made it clear those choices had to be made.



And I will learn to breathe again. And I will find the path again. And I will make my peace with things, because I have no other choice. And I will hope you don't hate me, in time, but if that's all you have to give, it's no more than I deserve. And I'm sorry.

I am so...sorry. But sorrier still that it's not just my ignorance. More sorry than I can express that you failed when you were given every opportunity to succeed. I will be sorry for that for a very, very long time.

And the train's on fire again. Maybe it never stopped. Maybe there were always embers burning, always seeds of destruction, in everything I've done. Maybe there was never hope in the first place. Maybe it was destined to go wrong from the beginning. And maybe, just maybe, you never understood the last time we argued, what we were even arguing about. Maybe for you it's always been about the push, the press, the rules that apply to everyone else but you. Maybe there was only ever lip service paid to respect, and understanding, and desire for more closeness.

Maybe he was wrong to allow you back. Maybe I was wrong to reach for more. Maybe you were wrong for seeing the opportunity to exploit, and never considering what it would mean down the road. So many maybes circling offshore, preventing departure.



Well, I'm not leaving. If this shocking turn of events is to teach me anything, it's that I know who supports me. I know where my compass points. I know how to get home, and I know who is waiting there when I go. Without judgment, without fear, with embracing understanding, and...yes, I would crawl through broken glass for that, I would walk through fire for that, I would give you up for that. At the end of all the days, that is my truth, and I will not walk away.

So, you're welcome to talk to me. You're welcome to ask me to explain, and I will do what I can. You're welcome to be a part of my life, in whatever limited fashion remains, as long as you understand I will not violate the bans. You're even welcome to be angry at me, to be hurt, to not understand, to rage. Those are all understandable.



But don't expect me to change the decision. Don't expect me to argue against it. Don't expect anything but acceptance that it has to be. Because I will not live in what if or if only. I will not second-guess what protects me, or who.

It will not happen.

And now, I can try to leave the shore.

(Pictures taken on the Sea of Greenhaven,the Vernian Lighthouse on the Blake Sea, Sea Breeze, the Chapel by the Sea, Las Islas and the Valium Sea.)

and she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land

run away, run away if you can't speak
turn a page on a world that you don't need
wide awake and you're scared that you won't come down now

I'm not foolish enough, or arrogant enough, to be blithe about this, no. I'm very, very scared, and worried, and I see this could go so pear-shaped, so fast...



didn't I tell you you were gonna break down?
didn't I warn you, didn't I warn you?
better take it easy, try to find a way out
better start believing in yourself

[23:00] Emilly Orr: Damn it, [Exx]. Why are we here again?
[23:00] Emilly Orr: And I really want the answer to that not to be "Because Em's an idiot about men", because....there's too much truth to that.

Maybe there always was.

we build it up, we tear it down
we leave our pieces on the ground
we see no end, we don't know how



I have two weeks to figure out how to save things. Two weeks to figure out how to make it work. Two weeks of not being able to breathe through smoke and fire.

we are lost and we're falling
(hold onto me)
you're all I have, all I have
(hold onto me)

It doesn't seem like enough time.



now and then there's a light in the darkness
feel around till you find where your heart went
there's a weight in the air but you can't see why, why

It's all the time I have. It's all the time I've been given.

didn't I tell you you were gonna break down?
didn't I want you, everybody wants you
tell me what you're needing, give into your bleeding
never any feeling for yourself

It's not going to be enough time.



we build it up, we tear it down
we leave our pieces on the ground
we see no end, we don't know how

And we may already be lost.

We are lost and we're falling

I don't want to be lost. I don't want there to be no way out.



we build it up, we tear it down
we leave our pieces on the ground
we see no end, we don't know how...

And I already know, I panic when I'm cornered.

didn't I tell you you were gonna break down?
didn't I warn you, didn't I warn you?
better take it easy, try to find a way out
better start believing in yourself

I already know I make extremely bad decisions when I panic. And my decisions were already making some uneasy to begin with.

you're all I have, all I have
can you hold onto me?
can you hold onto me?

Or, put another way, can I hold onto...what I'm not even sure I have in the first place?

run away, run away if you can't speak...



I can speak. I just have no idea what to say.

(Pictures taken on Finian's Dream, which is a lovely Celtic sim, and The Nothing. Note of caution on that last one: it is pretty, but it's also adult land and heavily femdomme, so take that into consideration. Lyrics taken from Rob Thomas' "Pieces". Which I'm pairing back to back a great deal with "Someday", also by Rob Thomas. Because reasons.)