Dear pre-Valentine,
I like the way you chew your crackers, in the morning, with the venetian blinds pulled back like sleep. If I knew of it in a pragmatic way, as I know the snow, then we would be a cabin weekend. When I say to you that you remember, every day with your eccentric smile, and the squares of the winter in the gazing, I mean you do. Thus, they are the distances, all but one greedy rage, that are the wardrobes open to the cold, the laziness. Here it is, that self dreaming about you and for fear of being told not to speak of you, I have given you another name. Like before Valentine.
My dear little pre-Valentine. This is to say I like your clothes strewn all over the floor along with the dust bunnies. I'm not convinced that this is a wonderful place but I still listen to the music and write it down. You came into a dream last night. You were jogging and breathing your five o'clock shadow in my face and you smelled like the gym of my adolescence. The way you keep those memories for me: you're so contagious. I have plenty of nails now, you needn't worry. I've got substance and a greyness you can slice, but nothing resembles your mouth. A swampy briar of delirium. If you don't like me, don't read me, I say. My mind is a boy that sings somewhat like Dylan injecting himself with a Maine summer, all February long.
If I were to put it another way, pre-Valentine, and I have not convinced you still, sip your coffee and go out into the darkness of these months. I am an ordinary fish, like you. Now, get me a drink.
If I were to put it another way, pre-Valentine, and I have not convinced you still, sip your coffee and go out into the darkness of these months. I am an ordinary fish, like you. Now, get me a drink.
Eagerly,
-la Bajo.
3 comments:
Valentine's day? Shi-i-it. More like Vampire-tine's day.
For some reason it's always made me grumpy. My best Valentine's gift ever was a paper bag of avocados for my girlfriend at the time. I drew a big red heart on the bag.
But still, sensuality for its own, lovely sake is worth its day of celebration, I suppose. Just maybe not when the Sun is in god-damn Aquarius.
This writing though, is enough to make me sigh and sink into the pre- of Valentine's day, which might be more important than the actual day, somehow. Maybe the notion of "Valentine" is, by its nature, a technology of the pre-. Like you say, the dreaminess fearful of being silenced, existing only in the pre- of speech.
Beautiful.
ps. did you read Bhanu's latest post on her blog? Her story of Thelonious almost made me cry.
"Today, my son prepared for the Valentine's Day party at his elementary school, wetting his hair down and putting on a white shirt buttoned to his neck. He said: "Mom, I hope this day will not bring tragedy. When I tell her she is kind and lovely, what if she tells me I am gross?" Verbatim."
Oh my God! My darling child! Ahhhh! I guess the CD will come in handy? Love was a nightmare for me at his age. I'm seriously freaking out.
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