8:233) chris abraham 08-JUN-98 10:47
The rumor mill hit me upon arrival at work. "He must have a trust fund." "He must have a silver spoon in his mouth." "He must have another income, how else can he take 21 unpaid days off of work and miss nary a step?" The rumor mill as filtred through a colleague who knows me as chris and not Mr. Abraham. A friend. She told me of the prying questions asked, the threats and the posturing: "I have been working here for almost 10 years and have never taken off three weeks." They call it my vacation, but it was not that. It was a crusade for a holy grail; it was not unlike a quest. It was for love. That sounds terribly cliche, but there it is. The grail, love as pesonified by a woman, as personified. Moving. Flying. United. Hawaiian. A dog named Suzi, a roomate, Bret, a friend, Bryan, and a smallish ramshackle wooden house in Kaimuki. Housing a wonderfully complex flowering woman. Yes, the silver of rings. Yes, the alien weighing my hand, pressing my finger, signifying m Where did those three years go? Where were you? Where was I? I really cannot account for 1997. I am sure it came to pass because this is 1998. I know I was on a plane, living off of stock returns and a passport, in 1996. 1995 was a year of change, a year of mourning, a year of sickness and madness, or tight body and crazed eyes. A dark time. 1996 was a time of embracing and hurting and the bright wet red pulpiness of open wounds -- spittle and puss, healing this way and that, showing jagged scars and a rough wound. Words of death, of love, of melancholy intercourse abroad and cigarettes, wine, whisky, debauch, poetry, ashtrays, trains, ships, planes, and whatnot.
1997. fuck. don't know.
1998. Bob's death day passed and on that day I made images of Willow with Mary, a friend of Bob, and held my love in my arms, held her and rejoiced. Never really mentioned it, but writing words for Bob is meaningless. Burning film, flexing the Nikon, shooting a model in Honolulu, being with Mary, making image is the way to go. Let go. Remember but let it go. Feel and release.
But to love. To care only of the future, to feel the present completely, to feel touch, to hear word, to see body, eyes, hair, nose, brow, teeth, chin, tongue, chest, shoudlers, back, arms, legs, feet, hands, fingers, ring. Let the past go. Be egoless. Be selfless. Love for love's sake. Expose the belly, expose the neck. Sleep soundly. Love completely. Feel the ring on the ring finger of the left hand and let its weight and silver circle remind me, enamour me, seduce me, excite me.
Appreciate. Explore. Want. Desire. Know. Enjoy. Love.
Wednesday afternoon, I shall embrace a roomate soulmate partner lover love girlfriend friend into my washington, into our apartment.
what luck, what a lucky fuck am i!