Friday, Nov. 21, 2003 - 1:49 a.m.
Cost of the War in Iraq
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Missing my ob too much
I am not cutting pumpkin.
I miss ob.
I miss her body. I miss how her legs walk and stand cuz her hips were fucked up when she was little. I miss her strong arms flung around me. I miss her soft against me. I miss her body.. she has a body like Venus de Willendorf. She hates that but I dont and I just saw a Venus de Willendorf picture and it made me cry cuz I miss ob.
I miss her long hands and her nice slender feet. I miss her colored toenails and her little stuckdown bits of hair that are her sideburns stuck down with clear mascara. I miss her little bits of hair stuck together with little tiny barrette clips like little girls wear. I miss her powder in her pocket, and her lipstick.
I miss her moving her head side to side like a homegirl dancing, and I miss her snapping her fingers and I miss her flinging the back of her hand against my chest thump thump. I miss her smile with her teeth too white, and her pointy peroxided nose. I miss her brown eyes and her soft face and how she would say "really??" when I said she was beautiful.
I miss her smoking hookah and looking badass. And her notreallyleather baggy pants. And her too long shirtsleeves, and her pants that drag on the ground. And I miss her line of many funky boots with buckles and pointy studs and laces and zips and flames. I miss her clove cigarettes and beer for breakfast and her grey car with the paint peeling on the hood. I miss her cinnamon gum and her crosses on the wall.
I miss her Marys and rosary and candles and gasmasks. I miss her paintings and electrical tape and fake blood. I miss how she pinches her face together with her lips closed but her jaw open when she is uncomfortable. I miss when she gives her sly wicked sweetie eyes. I miss her sleeping next to me. I miss making presents for her, and taking pictures. I miss reading her stories and having her rest her head on my shoulder.
I miss sitting side by side with her in restaurants so we can read together and talk, instead of face to face like other people. I miss making her laugh. I miss going to the graveyards with her and chinatown and the hindu area and dearborn and the polishukranian area and every where else we ate and shopped and hung out.
I miss her holding my hand, and doing my nails at the airport. I miss her listening to my erotic tales of derringdo and torture in her ears. I miss reading sexy books a page at a time on her answering machine. I miss making photo albums for her, and reading Corncob's letters out loud in a funny voice. I miss sending her emails (though I must admit i still forward some links to her that I know only she would like and no one else would get, even though she hasnt called or written or in any way contacted me now since we left 3 months ago. Thats dumb isnt it.)
I miss her reccommending me music and sending me cds. I miss being missredblacklips. I miss planning things and thinking of the future not alone. I miss going to see her, and packing and planning and travelling. I miss looking forward to seeing her when I arrive in her city. I miss going to get her on the Bart or in her car, at work. I miss telling her about things I hear and read about. I miss working all day, knowing she is at work too, and I'll see her at the end of the day.
I miss trusting her and being not insecure cuz she told me i never had to be insecure with her. I miss seeing her face in the photo at the end of my bed. I miss having sex with her, and having her fuck me, and making me squirt. I miss thinking up scenes to do with her. I miss sending her risque scans by email. I miss calling her at work and telling her things to do. I miss hanging around in home depot. I miss thinking of going to ikea with her, and thinking of decorating with her.
I miss thinking that I can show her things here like my painted livingroom, or my friends or bar I hang, or the Notre Dame Cathedral with its stained glass in old montreal I miss thinking I will take her snowshoeing in the Eastern Townships. I miss thinking I'll kayak and canoe with her, and go on long walks. And go to New Orleans and to hear Poppy Z brite, and road trips and Cuba.
I miss renting movies with her and eating guacamole and cornchips. And drinking red wine, and blowing hookah smoke back and forth between us til it is all gone, and drinking butterscotch schnapps and Corona with lime. And seeing her decorate her house her room,with crosses and jesus and ganesha and blue twinkly lights, her balcony with flowers, her kitchen with cds.
I miss cooking for her and looking for vegetarian recipes and shopping for the cooking, and looking at a book of restos to imagine which ones we will try. I miss thinking of her helping me landscape the backyard.
I miss her voice asking for a goodnight tuckin, or saying baby, or you dirty wench, my girl, or just absolutely anything (except for yelling when I submit you wait, i will never miss that , once will ring in my ears for eternity). I just totally miss her.
She asked "will you miss me?".
what do you think.
0 People have left cute, callous or caring comments on the wench's wordiness!!
ps, you'll need to email me for a username and password
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
*inspired by Chaosdaily