my careless contagion

Slipping in and out of sleep, I dreamed you were here, your body against mine. Through closed eyes, we felt one another across a great distance. You teased me repeatedly, making me want you, then retreated, asking me what's wrong. There's nothing wrong with wanting. What's wrong is the not having, not being sure, grasping for the golden ring, like falling in love with a movie star from long ago.  My eyes opened, and you weren't there. But I was sure you were momentarily, visiting repeatedly. We connected across time and space, like a portal yawned open for a moment. Our souls touched. Our hearts met. Then you were gone again.  Are you a wild animal which refuses to be kept, more at home in the forest than with man? A cat, a fox, a wolf. All have been tamed to a degree, but all retain a wild heart. The fox in The Little Prince said we are forever responsible for what we have tamed. But you there is no taming. You come and go as you please — like the wind, the waves, a fi...

"Divorce is stupid," I thought, as I turned my attention back to the game of billiards I was playing with my son. I observed the man I just met with his girlfriend and her kids at the pool. We were playing pool at the clubhouse, and my son said he knew the man so went and said hi, which led to me meeting him, as well. My thoughts continued with, "You just exchange families and end up raising someone else's kids, while some other man raises yours."  Incidentally, I met this man before, before all the bullying at my son's school. It was orientation. The man knew who I was and introduced himself because he did work for my parents and thought they were great people. (They can be.) Dominic is his name. He is the father of the kid, Ben, who was my son's main bully when school started. To say he was displeased with his son's actions would be an understatement. His son continues to exhibit poor behavior, but it's not usually directed at my son. They say ...

The storm blew up while we were a mile from home. As luck would have it, neither of us checked the forecast. The rain never lasts long, but today it did, driving everyone inside. We were alone on the sidewalk, running now. We laughed because it happened so fast. We were soaked within seconds. Glad  I didn't bring my phone. Our happy, little walk turned into a fiasco, but we didn't seem to mind.  When my key hit the lock, I exhaled a sigh of relief. We stripped to our underwear there in the hallway, and you took a shower first. I wondered what was taking so long, but soon you were out and laying on the bed, a towel wrapped around your hair and a soft robe around your still shivering body. I showered quickly and joined you, throwing a fuzzy blanket over us. We laughed at the stupidity of running in the rain when we were already wet, then taking showers after, as if that fixed anything. We were still chilled, and you took off your robe and pressed yourself against me — not as an ...

Your smile, the first thing I see when I open my eyes, invites me into a new day. Your lips, full and beautiful, part for a moment, purse again, kissing me on the nose. A new day for you and me begins with a smile and an ache. My time with you seems so short. The ache tells me our day will be spent apart.  I close my eyes again, my hand making its circuit up and down your thigh. Your breath catches momentarily, then releases as my hand pauses. I pull your body next to me. Our eyes closed, we both know this isn't about fulfilling a carnal desire. This is two spirits, two souls touching with bodies of flesh.  Some souls touch more than hands ever could.  We felt one another from a distance for so long. Now that we are close, it's stronger, though it has the same unique mix of excitement and peace. It's not confusing. It's precious and still feels brand new, though we keep coming back to it. I am jealous of my time with you, guarding it, but realizing I don't own you. ...

You, me, and the sea. I feel you there at the shore, like you are waves lapping at the sand, sometimes quietly, other times more insistent. There is a power in you, drawing me back, making me stay, causing me to sit and stare out over you. Imagining you. Conjuring you. Your colors are emeralds and blues of various hues, and a depth that recedes into the darkest water. I like to meet you in the newness of morning. When I walk up to your edge, your warm waters welcome, then dare me to step in further. I comply until I am in over my head and you are salty on my lips, dripping off my eyelashes and running down my face. Submerged in you, I smile at the sky.  I met you in the year that was my worst, yet you made it worthwhile. There was a golden quality to you, like the sparkle in a child's eyes undimmed by the world. It was like looking at the sun. I had to close my eyes. Life intrudes, but I was drawn back to your shore. The air is different with you. The sky is bigger. The light brigh...

Disconnected, from Face to Face's 1992 album Don't Turn Away (which is, in my opinion, a perfect punk rock album) is a simply-worded song. The lyrics aren't complicated. The singing is straightforward and predictably angsty and overwrought in typical punk-rock fashion. I saw Face to Face perform a few times. Keep in mind this is a three-piece band. These sounds are coming from three people each playing an instrument. The bass alone is perfect. As a whole, it's profound and simple at the same time and paints a perfect picture of what many people feel at some point in their lives, which is a disconnect from those around them (and maybe even themselves).  Before I go off on a tangent, here are the lyrics.  You don't know a thing about me Is there something that you should know? I can tell you what you want to hear Let your inhibitions just go No you don't know what you will give up You don't know what you want It may take you years to find out You don't kno...

This song doesn't get enough credit, nor does the singer. Michelle Branch is still popular and produces new material. Her personal life is a subject of interest, as she was married to a man many (actually, just me) considered a handler of sorts. It was an odd relationship. She got divorced and married a different man, at one point accusing him of infidelity and slapping him during an argument, ending with her being charged with domestic assault. I'm sorry, but a woman slapping a man because he may or may not have cheated on her? Drop those charges, bro. That's not domestic assault. That little girl couldn't assault an avocado. You're a weenie. But, anyway.  This song was released in early 2002 during a period when music like this was still popular. It almost has a 90s-song feel, which I like. It has angst, good production, some visual effects, and a pretty girl who can actually sing. The song is important because of the subject matter, which involves a couple in a r...

I was at the YMCA when the inspiration for this post landed in my lap. Literally. In the form of a ping pong ball. My son finished soccer camp that day and had swimming lessons that night. And the Y was having a bash of sorts. There was a guy in a jackalope suit (or something like that) and lots of college kids milling about. Free food! My son had the largest hot dog I've ever seen, and I had the pulled pork (which seemed to upset my stomach, but everything does these days). We were chilling out, eating, when the kids playing ping pong started to catch my eye. The boy was dressed in his baseball uniform and was hitting the ball way too hard, sending it across the room several times (and many times where we sat). The girl was having a ball and was so pretty with her big smile and even bigger curly hair. And then he hit her in the face with the ball. She was silent (the unfortunate among us know that silence) and then she threw down her paddle and grabbed the ball and threw it at him...