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it's all (colder) now, baby blue

lori coined this hug season. I'm inclined to agree.

since I came back from the east, the weather has shifted. there's still those brilliant warm moments in the sun, where you're surprised at how chilly it isn't. but most of the time, it's the is-part, and I'm left foraging for warmth.

once the chill sets in -- mossy bones, as abbey once said -- I'm inclined to reach out for warmth. extra blanket, thick socks. space heaters and thermostats. but it's not always the right kind: I want to reach out to women in my past, and reconcile my wrongs in hopes of being held. I want a magical blend of the first one, and the second, and the third and the fourth. no room for bad things. only good thoughts can stay. and as I shift into a period of purposeful alone-ness, I have to first endure that period of wanting anything but alone, when the adoration and the being adored are gone and the corners are sharper. the lights a little too harsh. I know on the other side of it waits a veritable ocean of open doors and wiser paths -- as I typed that portion above about wanting to be held, I knew as the words clicked off my fingertips that it wasn't really what I wanted at all.

but that illusion sure is nice. for a fleeting, sparkly-eyed little moment, at least.

who needs the blues / when you've got the greys?

as the wise jared mees puts it:

This Is My Motherfucking Day.

I've got a mix tape brewing. nanowrimo beckons. there may be words fused with photos here for a while, as Things Get Sorted Out. I have a new room, new friends, new home, one less cat, one more kitten, and I'm dawning on the eve of my two-year gay-nniversary. although we don't talk anymore, I'm forever grateful to the one who dragged me out of that closet, kicking and screaming.

it is only in the breaking down I experienced in the weeks and months following that fateful day that I've learned to build myself back up.

Victoria Uhl