i still love you guys, but it's summertime...

Apologies for not posting much, and apologies in advance for how self-centered this post will become. But then, it's all about me, right?


I am writing, though not like a fiend. Sean is still resistant to my minstrations, but he is loosening up. Right now he's found a beautiful woman with whom he'd like to have sex, but without going all romance novel on her ass. It's a touchy situation, but she's all about desire and what you do about desire and how you recognize its goodness and its traps. Desire is one of those things that is always good to have, but not always good to act upon, of course. Fortunately, I myself lead a charmed life where nearly every desire is immediately met with orgasmic enthusiasm. (And I'm not spoiled. Nope. Not at all.)

But it's not so for Sean. He has ties born of desire--not always sexual; sometimes it's about friendship, or it's about survival--that pull and twist him until he hardly recognises himself. A theme of eliptical centrality is emerging in sharp relief and I'm starting to see those freaky parallels that suggest I'm channelling these words.

My series is full of them: names I chose only because I liked the way they read, but which end up having significance to the character and story. A situation or conversation that I like and can't bear to cut, but which has no bearing on the plot, edits into a pivitol plot point after the fourth revision. Jason will rephrase a vague statement when Aidan goes "Huh?" and make it all clear for myself and everyone else in the story. It's called tightening, and it's scary sometimes. Chills down your spine, a cool breath across the back of your neck, a lick of air across your foot. Stories are real and alive, and they cause as much heartache and frustration and joy as anything that lives.

And I've been talking lots to good friends, 3d and 2d, who remind me that my urge to withdraw is not always a good thing. I've been parenting my kids more and drinking and swimming and fucking and eating and planning. The blog has taken a deeper turn, and I'm seeing things with more appreciation and clarity because of it. I'm reminded daily of how sweet and kind and wonderful my husband is. I'm getting potent, valuable clues that I'm a cog, a peg (often square in a round hole, of course) in this life and that I'm comfortable with that. Online, we're constantly debating Reality verses perception, human construct verses Truth, and long-discarded, valuable thought processes are coming back into play. I'm watching with joy as a new relationship grows, and I've seen three fail in the past month. I'm fantasizing about the illustrious, beautiful Twins, who I see every day (though now we're on speaking terms, which always kills it) and weeding the yard, and learning more about people, and dreaming of long, lazy, indulgent days at the lake, and I'm writing.

I'm always writing.

Except here.

But I'm around. Drop me an email, chat me up, or leave a comment. I'm around, even if I'm just quietly watching it all from my lounge at the pool.

Cuz summertime is when stuff grows, right?

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