Be authentic about who you are, how you feel and what's going on.-Peter Gabriel
 

There's a scratched beauty to Peter Gabriel's voice that pulls me in every time one of his songs plays. "The Book Of Love" is my absolute favorite, but "Here Comes The Flood" is equally gorgeous in its own way and much more sad and Sunday night quiet.

Peter himself thought the song over-produced the first time around (on his 1977 self-titled album), as he originally intended it to be recorded with just piano and guitar. The 1990 version on Shake The Tree is sparser, closer to his original vision and definitely more haunting.

 

Sunday readings...here and there

 

 

From the July issue of Wired: 

 

 

 

 

 

Given today's technology... a surprisingly interesting article on 'Knuckle Busters' in this weekend's Wall Street Journal:

 

http://online.wsj.com/articles/will-credit-card-breaches-give-knuckle-busters-a-second-crack-1409365854

 

 

 

 

And also standing out in this weekend's Wall Street Journal (if you're a David Bowie fan):

 

http://online.wsj.com/articles/david-bowie-and-quantum-mechanics-1409066727

 

Speaking of Bowie, there's also this article (much older) on what he was thinking when he made his highly successful and commercially friendly Let's Dance:

 

"I wanted to come in touch with the common factor and not seem to be some sort of alien freak," David Bowie told writer Lisa Robinson shortly after the release of Let's Dance, his most accessible — and commercially successful — album. "I don't want to seem detached and cold, because I'm not."

Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/music/lists/100-best-albums-of-the-eighties-20110418/david-bowie-lets-dance-20110330#ixzz3C1iPNhsf

 

 

This book is coming out next week and got a good review in WSJ and is also discussed here:

 

https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/christine-okeefe-aptowicz/dr-mutters-marvels/

 

 

Three day weekend reading...

Well, last week's attempt to read Fanny Hill was a complete bust.

 

Granted, I'm not quite sure I could follow, much less understand, all the physics behind the 18th century bawdy frolicking going on throughout so much of the novel, but I am pretty sure a lot of it was wishful thinking on the part of a man (John Cleland) with a very wild imagination. I'm not well-versed in erotica from any century, but I'm also quite sure love scenes ("love" being used loosely) should not sound like something from Gray's Anatomy (the medical text, not the tv show.)

 

 

 

 

I don't know why I pick up much older books when I can't sleep, but tonight I'm going for War and Peace (which it probably goes without saying is much cleaner and far better reading.) What surprises me is how funny the beginning is, though that could be the slap happy sleepiness inside me right now and the 21st century insight that "forty years" is hardly old age.

 

I think before I get into reading it any more, though, I need a good history refresher on Napoleon and his invasion of Russia.

 

Also helpful is this:

 

 

 

 Another great source is this link from Amazon where someone breaks down which translations to read and why:

 

http://www.amazon.com/gp/richpub/syltguides/fullview/R1IK42CKUHYV9V

 

I'm reading the Ann Dunnigan version, but I also downloaded (for free from Google Books) the Nathan Haskell Dole one.

 

War and Peace (Signet classics) -- (UNABRIDGED) Ann Dunnigan was born in Hollywood and here she has presented us with a very nice contemporary (1968) "American English" version of Tolstoy's Magnum opus. I call this one the "doctor's office version" because, even though it is 1,456 pages long (Signet paperback/Penguin), a busy errand-runner can still reasonably carry it around without backache. I found the translation itself to be quite competently rendered and most of the text reads straight through with no footnotes to deal with for the French language parts. If you're an American, and plan to read "War and Peace" only one time, and you're a really busy person who likes to read during windows of time, then this is likely your top choice.

Wednesday odds and ends, to start with

• It’s not pleasant when other people don’t like you, but it’s not awful, it’s not the end of the world, and it’s not fatal.

The above is from an article on irrational thinking I've found to be pretty helpful...I still need to work on this, but it's getting better (I hope):

http://www.rebtnetwork.org/library/ideas.html




This song has been on my mind...after "The Things We Do For Love," it's my favorite 10cc song:

• "This song incorporated the backing of a large wordless choir, which in reality was the group's voices. It was painstakingly built up from chord loops and multi tracks. Some 256 vocal dubs were required to complete the lush harmonies behind Eric Stewart's vocal."
   
  source:
   
   http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=4113
   

"Every Simpsons Ever" (the FXX marathon that began on August 21st and runs through September 1st) feels like a Christmas present for an insomniac with a soft spot for Lisa Simpson and her family. There's not enough room on anyone's DVR to cover all 522 episodes, but during those times you can't sleep or you to need to smile, it's there for you! :)

One of my very favorite episodes of Fringe is called "6B," named after an apartment from the plot, where enduring love (and a perfectly understandable inability to let go of it) is the source of all things strange within the entire building. 

This is what Peter says when he is trying to encourage Alice (a devoted widow who has been able to see who she thinks is her dead husband in a parallel universe) to go:

"I know, I know, but you've already had what most of us only dream of... a lifetime with the person you love. Look around you, your entire house is filled with mementos -- photographs, ticket stubs, evidence of a life shared with somebody. Proof that what you and Derek had was true and real. And I know that when you have something so real, you'll do anything to keep from losing it. But please, you have to let him go."

It is indeed (I imagine) what a lot of us only dream of...and never find. Still, I do find happiness is seeing others find it. Maybe that's why I like the "Weddings & Celebrations" section of the New York Times so much:

http://www.nytimes.com/pages/fashion/weddings/index.html?module=SectionsNav&action=click&version=BrowseTree&region=TopBar&contentCollection=Fashion%20%26%20Style%2FWeddings&contentPlacement=2&pgtype=Homepage

For more about the Fringe episode, read here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/6B_(Fringe)

I love that in this particular episode the symbols*, that always appear on the screen before commercial breaks, spell out "hearts."


*a leaf, a frog, a woman's profile, a handprint are some:


http://fringepedia.net/wiki/Glyphs_code

The frogs are all in sync outside my window. I think they're trying to sing, but I'm not really sure...it's kind of a soothing sound, whatever they're doing. Speaking of soothing, two nice songs to close out the night are "When Will I See You Again" by The Three Degrees and "Charlotte Anne" by Julian Cope.

Here's to a smooth start to the week! :)

E is for empowerment

I'm listening to Eurythmics' Ultimate Collection to get ready for Monday, because if anyone can help you with that it's probably vocal powerhouse Annie Lennox. So much of their material still sounds so oddly original and fresh.

 

Whenever I want to know the story behind my favorite music I go to Songfacts, which not only can help you with the interpretation of the lyrics but give you great background.

 

"Missionary Man" is not my favorite of Eurythmics singles, but I've always been fascinated by it so I went online to see if Songfacts covers it:

 

The lyrics for this song came from a poem that Annie Lennox had written. Musically, her bandmate Dave Stewart wanted to create a song that would play well in an arena setting, as he was inspired by the concert films Under A Blood Red Sky by U2 and Stop Making Sense by Talking Heads. British synthesizer bands weren't crossing over to big arena shows, and Stewart wanted to buck the trend. He wrote in The Dave Stewart Songbook: "Missionary Man opened the album and became a lynchpin song on the Revenge tour. I wanted to create a spiritual feeling at the opening of the song. I felt like an alchemist cooking up a weird brew of Blues, Rock and Voodoo, with a strange mixture of guitars, synthesizers, backwards noises, and harmonica that spiraled toward the opening line, 'Well I was born an original sinner.' This was the perfect way to take our shows to another level."

 

You can also read what other people think of the song. And sometimes there's just miscellaneous 'I never knew that!' tidbits of stuff. I found the link to "Would I Lie To You?" (my favorite of theirs after "Here Comes The Rain") just as intriguing:

 

http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=12841

Sunday odds and ends..."When you talk about food, people's faces light up."

 

My favorite part of Sunday is catching up with the newspapers and scouring them for good things, especially book reviews and more upbeat, less sad news stories.

This article in August 23rd's Wall Street Journal is so intriguing:

Dining From Trash to Table in Brooklyn
by Larissa Zimberoff

Salvage Supperclubs Meals Are Served Inside a Scrubbed-Down Dumpster

Bruised apples, floppy herbs and moldy grapes might not be considered acceptable ingredients for most home cooks. But a Manhattan man is hoping to change New Yorker's outlook on food freshness—one dinner party at a time.

 

Josh Treuhaft, a recent graduate of the design for social innovation master's program at the School of Visual Arts, has hosted seven Salvage Supperclubs, where he served past-prime food to diners inside a scrubbed down dumpster.

 

In all, the dinner rescued 1.8 pounds of food per person that was otherwise destined for the landfill. Culled from farms, farmers markets, restaurants and home kitchens, the waste was still perfectly safe and nutritious, Mr. Treuhaft said—the chef just needed to be creative in its handling...

You can read the rest here:

http://online.wsj.com/articles/dining-from-trash-to-table-in-brooklyn-1408756306



One of my favorite new albums: Yes, It's True. It is so upbeat ("You Don't Know Me" will have you dancing on the couch!) and has a great late 1960s vibe to it:

 

 

 

And thanks to an article in today's New York Times, I was able to discover Medici.tv, which streams classical music and opera performances, many times for free.

 

(for instance: http://www.medici.tv/#!/maria-callas-in-paris )

 

The NYT piece is a great resource and this part especially jumped out, where the author discusses iTunes and listening to opera:

 

...But something seemed to go awry in recent years. Maybe it was just me, or my not-quite-state-of-the-art equipment, but the early versions of iTunes — while great for storing and sorting singles — made me want to tear my hair out when it came to classical music. Forget the long-gone librettos and liner notes of yore: My iTunes sometimes had a hard time figuring out that Act II of an opera should follow Act I. Trying to teach it to sort music by, say, composer could become a daunting task requiring National Security Agency-level coding skills.

 

 For more go here:

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/24/arts/music/an-opera-lover-tests-streaming-services.html

 

 

 

In a move that wouldn't surprise anyone who knows even the littlest about Bryan Fischer (head of the American Family Association) he is on yet another rant about gay people. This time he has been kind enough to speak for everyone by saying "no wants to visualize homosexuality because it is disgusting."

To me, that statement seems ignorant more than mean. First of all, if he has enough spare time on his hands to imagine what people of the world are or are not visualizing, he needs to reconsider his priorities. Second, he would be better off trying to "visualize" what it is like to be gay, instead of picturing actual gay acts.

I know I've gone on about this before, but of all the homophobic comments I've read or heard throughout most of my adult life, the one that gets to me most is "I don't care what two people do in the privacy of their bedroom, as long as they don't talk about it."

As far as I know, no one (gay or straight) talks about their sex lives, unless it's a bunch of close friends out on a Friday night, (generally) venting about how much better things could be with their significant others. More importantly, whether you are straight or gay, relationships and sexuality are about so much more than the bedroom.

One of the few convenient things about being single, celibate and and harboring feelings for someone you're definitely not meant to be with (especially if that person is so neat and special, no one else really interests you that much) is that you learn to pretty much be happy alone. 

I know if I never ever have any kind of intimacy of that level that I will be absolutely fine...I also know I'm still gay whether I ever "act" on that part of me or not. For Bryan Fischer to reduce gay people to "disgusting" sex acts shows an ignorance that is far far more insulting (to me, at least) than anything else to ever come out of a such a staunch homophobe's mouth.

Bryan Fischer also acts as though no one has ever said this before. I imagine there are millions of people who find acting on homosexuality "disgusting." For them the solution is simple: just don't visualize it. No one's asking them to...on the other hand, asking someone to "stop" being gay (whether in their hearts or with their bodies) is pretty much impossible. The repercussions of trying to do so (i.e. suicide) are extremely heartbreaking and harsh.

I wish Mr. Fischer (nor anyone else who is anti-gay) no ill will. I just sincerely wish from the bottom of my soul homophobic people tried to truly understand those they oppose. That is all. 

Gay people are not here to destroy the world. We are here to love...just like anyone else.

Last night I dreamed I dropped and broke my glasses during the zombie apocalypse. I was sad, not because it was the end of the world, but because I couldn't read very well. And, of course, non-electronic books with small print were the only ones around.

Food became very scarce and without good vision it was also hard for me to tell the difference between zombies and humans. Everything soon went to Hell.

I finally found a survivor camp and, in the best part of the dream, met a really nice girl who seemed to like me. :) But it was so real (SO REAL!) and we had to get shots (long after things went south) to try and help us not be infected if bitten and the pain I felt stunned me.

I tried to wake myself up, but couldn't and so for a while I thought everything was actually happening. The girl (woman, really, since she was my age) helped me after I stumbled when I rose from the cot to let the next person get vaccinated. 

"I've got you," she said gently, then handed me one of my favorite books ever, holding it close. "And I've got this for you." It was so weird that I recognized the title because I normally can't read or write in dreams (this is apparently a common thing for most people as the part of brain used for reading is "shut off" while we sleep*). That I could see words only made it more convincing that it was real life.

Oddly enough, it was one of the best dreams I've ever had, even if it had scary parts and didn't always make sense.

 *
"Lots of people find they can't read text in a dream, that if they see text it's almost always garbled or hieroglyphics or doesn't make sense or it's fuzzy. People who can read in a dream will still report that the text is not stable; if they look away and then back, it says something different or there's no longer any writing there. So trying to read something in a dream is a good test for lots of people. Others find that things like light switches and other knobs that are supposed to turn things on and off work normally in their real world and don't do what they expect them to in a dream."
--from: http://www.scientificamerican.com/article/how-to-control-dreams/

"Take A Giant Step" shuffled on to my player tonight and put a smile on my face. The Carole King/Geoffrey Goffin penned-song is such a great mood-changer:


Though you've played at love and lost
And sorrow's turned your heart to frost
I will melt your heart again.
Remember the feeling as a child
When you woke up and morning smiled
It's time you felt like you did then.
There's just no percentage in remembering the past
It's time you learned to live again at last.

Come with me, leave yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind.

You stare at me in disbelief
You say for you there's no relieve
But I swear I'll prove you wrong.
Don't stay in your lonely room
Just staring back in silent gloom.
That's not where you belong
Come with me I'll take you where the taste of life is green
And everyday holds wonders to be seen.

Come with me, leave yesterday behind
And take a giant step outside your mind.

Just like wine does, people have good years...not in terms of their worth like wine (everyone is worthy, no matter the year or person) but in terms of happiness and which ones are better.

I've spent most of the day cleaning and I found a box where I had put away some pictures from when my niece was born and that I need to add to my photo albums. They kept falling loose and I didn't want to misplace them, since they are very dear to me.

These past few months have been really trying and seeing glimpses from a better time helps more than I thought it would. Sometimes seeing your happier times can hurt when you're down, but sometimes they can remind you that happy and sad ebb and flow. Happy will return soon, it will.

There are some bands you might not necessarily be madly passionate about, but still have feelings for in your memory. I've never been a huge Chicago fan (except for "Saturday In The Park" and the stunningly beautiful "Colour My World," which would make even Cruella Deville cry) yet their music seemed to follow me all through my youth.

In middle school, our music teacher had us play Chicago songs on the recorder. He constantly used current pop music to engage our attention, though Chicago was never particularly the rage among my classmates. Chicago most likely works better with the recorder than the far more energized Motley Crue or Prince would have.

In high school, my sister became such a passionate Chicago listener, theirs was the only music she played in her room besides Madonna. I always found the 80s albums to be a bit sappy, maybe even emotional overkill, but the sincerity within them struck me as endearing.

Of the different lead singers who have moved through the band, Peter Cetera (vocals and bass from 1967-1985) has a voice that sounds very kind and genuine and even when I didn't like the songs, I liked his attitude. It's not his fault, after all, I associate that particular period of Chicago with being a wallflower at a high school dance.

The liner notes from their 2007 release The Best Of Chicago aren't especially introspective (it would be kind of neat to see reflections on their early singles), but there is this mention of Diane Warren, who seems to have written every Top 40 power ballad from the 80s and early 90s.

She has written for so many well-known singers, but I think my favorite song of hers is "Solitaire," which Laura Branigan released in 1983.

 

for more on Diane Warren:

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diane_Warren

(picture source: Lichaamstaal .com )

I read recently (though no one needs a book to tell them this) that someone's body language and the look in their eyes are always (always!) a better measure of how they feel and what they think than their actual words are.

Frankly, as long as they're somewhat civil about it, people might be better off being a tad more blunt with their thoughts and emotions. In the end, it could spare others the pain and confusion that come with receiving mixed messages.

Because, really, if a person doesn't like me, I'd rather they politely just move on...they might not even realize that how they truly feel shows forth in their so-fast-it-almost-didn't-happen "You're an idiot, but I have to be here with you, so I'll be nice" glances. To be hated is almost preferable to being tolerated or, worse, patronized.

As Chely Wright writes in Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland Country Singer :

“I hear the word "tolerance" -- that some people are trying to teach people to be tolerant of gays. I'm not satisfied with that word. I am gay, and I am not seeking to be "tolerated." One tolerates a toothache, rush-hour traffic, an annoying neighbor with a cluttered yard. I am not a negative to be tolerated.”

She is referring to a specific example, but you don't have to be gay to feel that some people in your life just tolerate you.

Maybe others' iciness or "oh Lord, not again!" attitudes comes from all that suppression and good manners most of us have lived with our adult lives. Maybe it comes from their admirable (but unnecessary in this instance) drive to follow the principles that define their personal, professional and spiritual lives.

All I know for sure is that having someone say something nice to you only to find when you look up later they're giving you a dirty look is very unnerving.

I don't know if you do this or not, but sometimes seeing all the books I have yet to read and long to read again (who's lucky enough to have the time for that?) the only thing that comforts me is to get up and run my fingers along the bookcase. As passionate book lovers, we can't possibly read everything we want to, but sometimes knowing it just exists is enough.

Tonight I pulled my Charles de Lint books down off the shelf and experienced the giddiness I first felt upon discovering his wonderful work years ago.

All of his writing is heartfelt, magical and Mr. de Lint is so in tune with the human spirit he seems both masculine and feminine. His Newford stories, in particular, touch the soul. After his novel Memory and Dream (I can't possibly sing its praises enough) Moonlight & Vines is my next favorite of his.

This is the kind of fiction that makes you wish it were real and the characters inside your very best friends.

Way back in 2003, Uncut music magazine released an absolutely wonderful cd featuring different musicians covering David Bowie...mind-blowing* interpretations include Culture Club's "Starman," Guy Chadwick's "Fall In Love With Me," Edwyn Collins' "The Gospel According To Tony Day," Blondie's "Heroes" and Duran Duran's "Fame."

 

While it was originally put together with lots of care, only numbers 1, 4 and 6 were exclusively recorded for this released. More information can be found here:

 

http://www.discogs.com/Various-Starman/release/1054988

 

*Mind-blowing in strictly non-Bowie terms, of course. He's in a class by himself! :)

I used to believe this, honest to goodness I did. Now I know it's not true or, if it is, it's all about the books in the picture, not someone special I might meet.

I don't refer to myself as unattractive to get pity or be disingenuous. I do it, and particularly did it when I used to try the personals, to be honest, to prepare someone who's about to meet me in person for the first time if it's in a certain context.

"Oh, no, no, no one's ugly. You shouldn't call yourself that." One woman assured me over the phone the night before we were to meet. I silently agreed with her because I normally hate the word "ugly" and would never use it to describe someone else.

The next day we met at a Starbucks in Rockville. Meeting for coffee is always better than for a meal because if things don't work out well, things don't drag out so long.

But during this particular instance, the woman had barely sat down at the table (her eyes clearly showing her disappointment) before she bounced back up and told me she'd just remembered she'd forgot to feed her cats. You could hear the screech of her tires as she pulled out of the parking lot.

I'd blame it on my personality, but we took lots of time getting to know each other on the phone first. She said she liked my voice, shared my interests in books and music and wanted to get to know me better. But none of that meant anything the moment she laid eyes on me. I've never seen such panic in someone's eyes before. Well, I have, actually, but not quite like this.

Things have always gone so much better up to the "meet in person" date, that I sometimes think (if I still wanted to date) that I would try finding love exclusively through phone and email contact. I'm less shy that way and, for weeks or even months, I can look like whatever the person envisions in her mind.

In the end, that's not a real relationship. You can't hug or eat dinner or just hang out comfortably with someone over the phone...not in any way that warms your soul. For that, for me in particular, I'm better off with books. Books might not be able to hug me in any physical way, but they touch my heart and soul and they honestly could care less what I look like...

I reread this incredibly sweet love story last weekend. It opens in 1978 (and features a restaurant I remember from childhood-Beefsteak Charlie's!) and focuses on two classmates who fall in love during their senior year.

They vow to stay together forever but college plans separate them and nearly twenty years pass before they see each other again. Witty, hysterically funny, touching and sincere, ALMOST LIKE BEING IN LOVE might have you wondering whatever happened to your first love...

True love is almost as hard to find in a book as it is in real life. Hundreds of lesfic romances try to get it right, but often fail. That is why authors like Gun Brooke are so valuable to the genre.

The earnest, heartfelt writing appeals to me, sometimes speaking to personal experience that cuts quick to one's very core: 

"During phys ed, when the other girls talked about their latest crush on a boy, I felt nothing. Instead, there was a girl.” Manon smiled as if she could see her. “Funny, I can’t even remember her name, but she was shy and really pretty. I liked to watch her play basketball—the way her body moved, and how she beamed after she scored. I exchanged maybe ten words with her, but the fact that I found her cute and attractive…and had nobody to talk to about it scared me to death."

Coffee Sonata is beautiful and sweet, sometimes so much so it makes your heart hurt. And there's certainly lots of love to go around, even if that is what contributes to the one weakness in this novel: too much story and not enough time to tell it.

Vivian and Mike, Manon and Eryn...four wonderful women, all unexpectedly falling into relationships they never see coming. Of the two relationships, I cherished the one Vivian and Mike share the most. They feel so fiercely and fear so much. 

Manon and Eryn are great as well, but the "coming out" issues and family concerns hit just a bit too close for me. As terrific as the book is, Coffee Sonata bites off more than it can chew at times. It might fare just a tad better as two separate romance novels.

Monday odds and ends...

If you have ever felt like this:

Sometimes, you think that no one has ever loved you. You have almost flippantly doubted it, even when someone was saying it to you. Even if they are saying it to you today. Because, though you wouldn’t like to admit it, you’re not terribly sure that you love yourself. You reject all of the simpering notions in beauty magazines and you learn to say nice things about yourself when you look in the mirror. If someone asked, you could provide an objective list of your qualities. But you’re not sure that “loving yourself” is something you ever really learned how to do.

Sometimes, you wonder if everyone is faking it, even the people who seem to have it all down to a science.

you can read more here:

 http://thoughtcatalog.com/chelsea-fagan/2013/08/for-when-you-think-that-no-one-will-love-you/


I picked up a copy of Book Forum the other day at Barnes and Noble and read a fascinating review for a novel called Last Words From Montmartre by Qiu Miaojin. There's one amazing line (among many) where the main character decides to only "engage" the love she feels for someone else, not the actual woman she for she has strong feelings. Like other deceptively small books (it's 161 pages), it has a lot to say.

 

“I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?”
― John Lennon

Every once in a blue moon I have a really nice dream that hurts to wake up from and yet somehow still gives me hope. The hope and the aftereffects of the dream seem to last for about the same amount of time, in order words: not very long. But while the haziness lasts, it's almost as real and as gorgeous as the dream itself.

This morning I woke up from one where I had met someone who loved me as much as I loved her. She told my mother (not unkindly, but still quite firmly) that we were going to be married and, oddly enough, my mother seemed okay with it. It was probably one of the most beautiful dreams I've ever had.

And though waking and reality's harsh slap stung for a bit, the silly dream gave me (for a fleeting second) an idea of what a wonderful world it would be, if things like that could actually happen.

so far...

The Girl Most Likely To Be Unloved

A time travel short story (rough draft)

The classified ads at the back of the magazine were absolutely fascinating, but none so much as what I saw in the July 21, 1922 issue I opened one particularly lonely day late in 2012.

My darling A., it began, I know not where you have gone, but surely it could not have been willingly. The months since you disappeared have been absolutely agonizing and after what you said the very last time I saw you I find it so hard to believe you’re gone forever. You once said where you come from there is something called ‘missed connections,’ where people can advertise their pain over loss or missing out on chance meetings. Here in our town we just have the classifieds so I thought I take a stab at it. You always lovingly laughed when I called you the cat’s pajamas, but, my dear, you are and always will be to me. Please, please return. My love always, C.

How beautiful and charming and…wait, Missed Connections!? I was reading the magazine off of my ereading device, but it was reproduced exactly as it would have been in 1922. As I moved to the next month’s issue, another ad addressed the same way caught my eye:

My darling A.,You told me once you loved this magazine and that you read it from cover to cover, even though most of the time the issues were very old.It occurred to me that you might not know this is for you unless I mention specifics without being too specific. The sadness in your eyes, your conviction you would never ever be loved, that you felt in your youth you would grow up to be the girl most likely to be Unloved, all of that pulled me in, made me want to make you happy and prove how much you could be loved. Your eyes, green as fresh grass, your hair, so different than any other’s, and your love for books, music and animals made me want to stay with you always. Wherever you are, please know how much I care, how much I long to see you again.I cannot help but believe you would come back if you could. I know I did not imagine the love that shone in your eyes. Please do not imagine mine because it’s there and with all my heart it always will be. Yours Forever and After, C.

I dropped my ereader, not noticing or caring, two things I’d never do normally since I valued it more than life sometimes. I had no way of knowing who the writer was or why I even thought for one second it could be anything more than just a very very weird coincidence. Even if I were somehow lucky enough to track down a physical copy of the magazine, it hadn’t been a current publication since the late 30s. Who would be around to share old records with me? (Assuming they kept track of who sent in the ads or even if they had to take names to publish them?)

I had to believe it was a coincidence because there was nothing else to do now was there?

But apparently Fate (or the Universe) or maybe just C. herself had other plans. The next day, late morning, I received a package in the mail. When I opened it and slid out the letter another envelope fell to my feet. I picked it up, then read the sheet in my hand:

Dear Alison,

I don’t know how to explain what is enclosed in this package. To be quite honest, my family has always thought it the oddest thing to ever touch our family history, or anyone’s really, but we respected our great aunt’s wishes and have not opened the enclosed envelope. We know no more than you do, only that our Great Aunt Celeste explicitly stated upon her death bed that this letter was to be delivered to you.It is because she was an amazing woman and someone you always respected that we abided by her wishes, though how she could have known about you in 1933, the year she passed away, is the most bizarre thing ever.

Sincerely,

Maureen Hill

Hands trembling, I touched the second evelope as if it were somehow alive and then I softly slipped my fingers under the edge and pulled the flap open.

My darling Alison,

How much time has been wasted these past ten years. To wonder what had happened to you for over a decade and then discover the knowledge was with me, hidden as it was, the whole time breaks my heart. I can only hope the delay will not affect anything about our future, though given what I’ve come to think of as your past and my future, I worry it’s destined to never work out for us.

You buried a box in the bottom of my treasure chest. I write as if you will know what that means. I am being so illogical and silly about all of this so perhaps I should start from the beginning.I do not want to give you all of the details because in the letter you left you firmly state not to, so all I can tell you is: In January of 1922 we meet in Baltimore. In Lexington Market.

This, oddly enough according to you, is both by accident and on purpose. And there is no doubt when we meet that time stands still. So maybe it makes sense that it had to be disrupted for us to come into each other’s lives. You said in the letter that if I wrote you with something concrete about yourself you would believe me and do your very best to return for good, to stay with me so we could grow old together. Please, whatever it takes, come back to me and stay. Your fidelity, your loyalty and your chastity are just three of the things I adore about you, but there are three very important things. I would never laugh at you and how you see love and the world. You are mine and I yours for as long as we have together and forever after that. Love, Celeste

May and December have never been so lovely. Beautiful, extremely moving and just plain wonderful, Touchwood is the kind of story that is both deep and mature and makes you wish you could find someone like Louisa in real life.

It can be a bit frustrating at times when Louisa and Rayann fail to effectively communicate with each other, especially in the beginning, but it's also 100% believable.

As a complete softie for May/December romances, I love the dynamics between the two main characters and how much each woman cares for the other. Even the love scenes are nicer and more touching than in most lesfic: "You have my heart and just about every inch of my body.” Rayann smiled slightly. “I think the little toe on my left foot is the only part of me you haven’t left an indelible impression on.”

 

There's a group called Pure Bathing Culture that does a really dreamy cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams." I love it more than the original, almost. 

I think of it as literally "dreamy," because it's far more wispy and surreal than the original (though Stevie's voice just can't be beat.) Listening to it, I feel like I'm inside a very pleasant dream:

http://purebathingculture.bandcamp.com/track/dreams-fleetwood-mac-cover

I was listening to my copy of Lennon Legend: The Very Best of John Lennon on the way into work today and, as always, sighed a bit at the last line of "Love."

Love is real , real is love
Love is feeling , feeling love
Love is wanting to be loved

Love is touch, touch is love
Love is reaching, reaching love
Love is asking to be loved

Love is you
You and me
Love is knowing
we can be

Love is free, free is love
Love is living, living love
Love is needed to be loved 

Of all human needs, love may be the absolute strongest. 

Physically, it may not be as dire as the need for food, but for me it's always been the most intense. If I didn't have to eat to survive, I'd gladly trade all the food in the world for love.

The only time I really enjoy food is when I'm sharing it with people I like. One of the hardest things about being single is finding the interest to cook just for me.  Cooking is always most joyous when you're doing it for someone else.

The truth is, except for reading, most things are better when experienced with someone else...and even reading can be enhanced when you discover how others feel about what you've recently read.

At some points in my life, the need for love has been so strong, and the isolation so overwhelming, it's like a tree falling in an empty forest. This is most bad during the middle of the night, when things are so quiet where I live, I feel like I'm the last person on Earth.

Never having found someone to love who loves you back can wreck havoc with how you feel about yourself. Friends and family (especially friends who tend to be more unconditional with their love, if you ask me) help a lot, but there's something so appealing about growing old with someone special that I've never been able to shake off completely.

As I often do I Googled for ways to feel better about this: 

"Just because no one loves you today (or you perceive life that way) doesn't mean someone won't love you in the future. Be loveable and love will find you"-Yahoo Answers

“We can’t hate ourselves into a version of ourselves we can love.” ~Lori Deschene

The rest of the article this quote appears in can be linked here:

http://tinybuddha.com/blog/7-things-to-remember-when-you-think-youre-not-good-enough/

Kindle Highlights...

Back in bed she folded the sheet tightly across her chest to give herself a feeling of being held…

I highlighted that quote in a favorite book because I thought I was the only one who did that on particularly challenging nights and the words soothed my heart. I'd read the novel before, but that particular night I remember pressing a button on my Kindle that showed me several other people had highlighted that passage as well...which made me feel less lonely, less freakish.

Sometimes I mark passages that are the exact opposite of my personal experience, but still deeply affect me...this is what I would think of as a fantastical dream speech that I always wished my mom had given when I tried to come out twenty three years ago. In this part of Touchwood (by Karin Kallmaker), the main character's mother is apologizing for not embracing her more in the beginning:

“I’m glad. It was hard…hard to go inside, but once I was there and I looked around at all the gay people I found myself thinking of them as different. And then it came to me that while I was there I was the one who was different. I knew then, how you—all of you must feel. Made to feel different everywhere you go. And I felt so terrible."

She pauses, then looks at her daughter with tears in her eyes (both of them are crying, actually):
 

"I don’t care about who you spend your life with as long as the person’s good to you."

My parents, especially my mom, did not react well when I tried to tell them about me decades ago. They were so upset, so full of harsh words and non-acceptance, that I grew scared and, after a week of their continuing to tell me I'd end up out of the family and go to Hell when I died, I gave in and told me I had been "mistaken."

I've tried again over the years to explain to them that I am gay, that I'm not going through a "phrase" (a twenty three year long one?) but they still believe it's a sin and say if I bring up this "nonsense" one more time they don't want to see me anymore.

When I read the scene above I started wondering if parental acceptance of adult gay children is the norm or the wonderful exception. I hear all the time about other gays and lesbians who find warm reception when they come out to their families, but I also still hear the horror stories...those whose parents tell them such horrific things as "I'd rather you were dead."

I thought all my recent misery was coming from the feelings I have for someone I shouldn't. But I realize that, even though it still hurts sometimes, it is going to get better with time and I can certainly understand and accept she cannot ever like me.

But knowing my parents are never going to change their minds and that I feel honor-bound to not be who I truly am so that I can be part of their lives..well that both saddens and weighs me down, not like my cozy comforter I sometimes pretend is one big hug, but like the anvil Wild E. Coyote was always trying to drop on Road Runner.

In the meantime I clutch to those Kindle highlights, not the ones I make as much as the ones I see underlined when I'm pausing at the same passage. Another marked section perfectly sums up the frustration and pain of unrequited love: 

Why can't I be happy just knowing her? Why do I have to want more?

Knowing there others are out there who feel the same is better than nothing...and is almost sometimes something.