The Puja Of Valerie

I went from idealizing what I want in the future with my lady... to this "thing" in mythic proportions::::::
"...that I can't make up my mind about. It would be difficult to start a new relationship with someone--I don't know that I want to. What do you think? Dating around? But nothing serious--and hold out for each other...?" I THINK the culture you & I come from has it that folks are casual and not tied down, meaning it wouldn't necessarily be a great difficulty to stay aloof in the presence of another woman, and I would hope that you feel that way if some guy wanted to date you--that you would be casual and not get caught up with something that here in a yr or so would otherwise pull you out of the possibility that you and I would continue. Yes, I do want to continue--because I anticipate you will have made ground on many necessary responsibilities that SOOOOOO concern us right now. In other words, a lot hinges on your development. Which like I say, you are HUGE and dynamic and will feel--not to make a mean pun--like a million bucks by that time. I'm not saying I want my cake and eat it too--I am rather placing the cart before the horse, and you're the cart in one way, and in another way I am imagining that we COULD comparatively look at each other from this same "condition" tho' time will have perhaps made us THINK we have changed... Change IS necessary, but I don't for a minute think that I want to be uprooted from this tree you and I have planted... I think you get what I am hedging on and not actually saying...all I know is it's weird to think about, and I feel pretty much like a nobody til someone says I really do matter. I would tell you everything or anything if there ever is an anything... You see what I mean about if thou wert as my sister? I mean that'd be strong if I could confide in you til kingdom come, whatever this high and low road brings you and I... I'm just forewarning a possibility...and am being as up front as possible...and I think who the cap fits let him (me) or her (you) wear it--ONE size fits all. This is like a pact with you. Whadya think, sis?
Told Val this was meant for her: we have an understanding-- it'll be a year or so before the next one...(understanding, I mean)
***Perhaps it'll be An Erotic Journey from Milan to Minsk... I mean, anything smacking of porn from the seat of Rum (Italia) to Eastern Europe has my name on it. And also ever since Craig got tied up and manipulated into a relationship with basically a mailOrder bride from Russia, I thought just going downtown to get it on with Ms. Brown, may as well be Ivanovich's forbidden fruit, the lucky daughter of a mafioso Russian daddy-o as easily... You know seeing that you and I are kinship with this part of the world, "she" could be my surrogate ball & chain Hungarian lover, albeit from the Yellow Horde (think Mongolian features--yes yours) in Slavic guise as opposed to the most diverse of Eastern European views into language's ontology=Hungarian so odd, and powered by that diversity... but again either Romance language or Cyrillic/Slavic ones, have tattooed my prediliction with a Commie girl. Like really Communist, straight out of 1900 when Zadie was but a cinder in his mother's eyes, and her rebellious girl-friend, presumably who I would have known, then gotten to know--was somehow transported to a lair of my making. And she'd leave the room to regimen her body, and all I can do is wish she would walk back into the room as you... and you would be.
***I read in a yellow cloud, and in my orange shroud a pharoah's night I once took flight and embrace within. I used to walk to chase away all exegensies, (I think I'm trying to suggest excesses), and I swiped at my theoria/contemplation over things not contingent on cryptic Muslim awe, but just my home in old brown (my shoes) and how to take the doctrinaire of phala shruti (Hindu for the fruit's of hearing) and call my own name in theophany (transcendent calling of my own name...), but as in a tinny radio jam box mute and lying on the ground while its owner was searched by his soldier inquisitor--what I saw in the Old City of Jerusalem. Lightning vox with its climax amidst space only has self-denial to contend with. So my opportunity to say I can't accept man's threat against man was forever in ideas of rumors of war. My hope is mythic that mostly I know everyone can have the light at the end of tunnel I see, that there's no lying in wait for the end game (of war's staged allegiance to pain)--the illusion that hope is consistent with suffering for the reprieve, leaves me shouldering my bridge toward awareness: I'm determined to be as stupid as the animal biting its own shadow, if that shadow would be eaten by street lights' radiant voyage when branches above of my neighborhood's gray sidewalk--or rather branches of neighborhood's sidewalks REFLECTS unconditionally. The pharonic night's were empireal strolls in Beaumont-Gardenside burbs...