#1 January 8th, 2006 03:12 AM

wantingscott

Member

into your flood again (pt 2)

"Know me broken by my Master, teaching me his child off love hereafter
I'm into the flood again, same old trip it was back then
So I make some big mistakes, try to see it once my way"

From "Would?" Alice In Chains

The rest of the family was enjoying Labor Day everywhere else across the lake. I was alone with Christine's cousin Jane. My buddy. My new waterskiing buddy. her victoria's secret panties fit me, which was a good thing, since the shorts i borrowed from her were mesh. my cousin-in-law, Jane stole most of her sweats from numerous guy friends, and never looked put together as much as she looked smartly jockish. she made it clear to me that the blue and gold Michigan State shorts were her favorite, and even though she thought they looked great on me, they were "loaners only".

we were alone at the lakehouse, and alone for me usually meant taking cues from small impulses. plus i was currently out-of work, having been recently "position-eliminated", so was it really a vacation? panic followed me everywhere, i can't take a weekend off from that.

Jane hugged my shoulders, it's been a while since i'd gotten casual affection like that, and she moved her arm down my back to my waiste. i put my arm around her, tentitively, around bare skin fifteen years younger than mine, but Jane was 22, and this was just what i would have figured for "normal affection" to someone who had grown up whith a family, instead someone like me, who had been adopted by a large family of in-laws. Anyway, all reasoning aside, it felt good, her hair smelt good, and she was silky in her bikini top.

i'm not sure why we were staring across the empty lodgehouse, at what, but CNN was on the TV. She lowered her affection a little more, and now rubbed my ass a bit. I didn't reciprocate, but i did pull her closer around her waist.

"ready to go, Scott?" yes i was, if it was up to her sleeping bag on the third floor or to the Teahouse where we had planned to waterski, like i said i'll take any cue when i'm alone, i like to suspend reality, it comes easily for me, always has.

after a brutal session on the lake where we both bruised well on the wake, we slipped into the outdoor sauna tub with cups of coffee. Jane opened up to me about her new girlfriend, and about her newfound love of Linux. It was one of those rare moments in my life where i felt a cemented connection that i would keep, built on the strength of my newly reconstructed psyche and the bonding cast of my Seroquel infused meds.

I had a new sister-construct, and i felt whole about it. although back at the lakehouse i only gave her back her mesh shorts. The VS panties made me feel too alive and complete to surrender. I imagined wearing them for courage on upcoming interviews, not because of any Jane association (they were clean, and brand-new), but because i felt more like myself.

I wasn't suprised to dream about Cherrie that night. In the dream, i had gone to One Police Plaza in Manhattan to view the evidence froom the 1977 raid, not only on Sammy but on an entire row of stores on Jamaica Avenue. I knew the evidence existed from phone calls made three years ago.

There i was, in the dream, viewing pictures of Cherrie and figuring how i could get my own copies of them. Not for any sort of indictment, but because of how turned-on i was by them. Cherrie was, in the logic of dreams, now about 25, and happily naked. I was still 5, and covered in diarreah, from matted hair to pooling around my foetal-formed frame. Writhing on a dim-lit concrete floor from one photo to the next with pleading, brown-dripping eyes.

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that's the way it goes. but don't forget, it goes the other way too.

overslacked

Member

Re: into your flood again (pt 2)

That is beautiful, wantingscott.

I'm just about to go to sleep; I'm not interested in actually sleeping, I'm just too tired to force myself awake any longer. I'm feel like I'm two steps above a hypnotic state, and reading that, I really felt there. Thanks for posting that.

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Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes; art is knowing which ones to keep. - Scott Adams