we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. if we get to it.

[editor's note: Sex up and left without a word. She wrote the original of this on July 19. Tough subject. In my opinion, she still didn't do it justice.]

[editor's note: Oh, and she's back now, but ignoring you like usual. Why you people stick around for this neglect and abuse is beyond me.]


dis·con·nect: n.
A lack of connection; a disparity.

Ah, it's just a conflict, you say. It's a philosopher's fancy-schmancy term for a conflict.

But a disconnect is more subtle than a conflict. A conflict names itself; puts itself out there for all to see. It's noisy and disruptive. A conflict refuses to be ignored.

A disconnect is the shade, the simulacrum, the soul and fetus of a conflict. It craves anonymity. It's a murky thing: lingering at the heart of what eats on us at night.

Greg and I chatted about disconnect within a certain subject lately:

greg : its kind of nothing really new or profound but its slightly poetic
greg : i was talking about how when we converse there are two dialogues, blah blah, internal external, right?
ssss6xxxx : right
greg : and i was sort of pointing out the disconnect between the two, as if we were merely talking to each other's shadows half the time
greg : and how funny it was that nothing is more true and pure than this inner voice, yet nothing beats around the bush more and is more deceiving than human conversation
greg : so my insight was that bonds form when the internal voices align
greg : and speak to each other
ssss6xxxx : what do you mean it's not profound? fuck, greg...
greg : i dunno
greg : hahah
ssss6xxxx : we've touched on this before-- how you and I can speak like this because we don't have the luxury of relying on surface information. But shadows talking? Pretty goddamn profound, if you ask me.

We allow no shadows between us, Greg and I. Not that they don't exist and can't form at some point. But currently there are no shadows. No disconnects. Incidently, I think that's why people who have communicated only over the phone or by instant message sometimes have trouble meeting in RL. Wham! Shadows, shadows, everywhere.

Both Greg and I are in the muck and mire of a mindfuck over our topics. I agreed not to post until after he did (and now he's moved on to some fucker keying his car) because I'm quoting one of his main concepts. I suspect he, like me, just went on to bed after we unsuccessfully tried to hash this out together in the above conversation. We might even both be talking about the same thing, though it won't look that way by our posts. It's a doozy, I think. It's a Kahuna of an issue and neither of us can even name it. I told him that he's touching something close to his heart if he's fussing so much, but I think I was really talking to myself.

The difference between who I am and who I purport myself to be, and finding the bridge between the two has been on my mind a lot lately, because there is always a disconnect in our lives, right? I have many, or maybe they all stem from the same, unnamable thing. Some people seem content to live with them. Perhaps they are wiser than me and know how to bridge who they are with who they look like seamlessly and without much fanfare. Or maybe they like keeping themselves secret, just for themselves. Do we learn to hide ourselves or is it instinctual? How do we overcome it, or are we supposed to like being hidden? I don't know, and I'm not happy not knowing.

I've noticed I've a major personal disconnect when it comes to spirituality. I want to practice it in some shape or form, yet I don't. Today a friend told me I was spiritual, and someone else suggested that if I wanted to explore it, I might start with the afterlife.

I said that I thought that Life and Afterlife are a continuum. We just can't see the connection between the two for the darkness that surrounds death. But even that's a disconnect, right... the difference between a living body and a dead one?

Actually, the notion that there is no true difference between life and afterlife is a major disconnect with what is popularly believed by, well, nearly everyone on the planet. Physical death is a particularly difficult disconnect to bridge, as are the people that maintain unconventional and conventionl beliefs about it. Which tells me that sometimes the disconnects are constructed and imposed by people around us.

I could digress here and go on to say that most people think that Life is somehow inferior to Afterlife, but I disagree. I hold that there's not much difference between the two except for what we aren't willing to see and do in Life. But the only relationship that has with this subject is that it is an excellent, and nearly insurmountable, example of a disconnect.

So I'll provide a more tangible, personal example:

I am married. I am sexually attracted to my husband. But I also see the Twins with that pale place between their hipbones and their swim trunks. I see the Roman God, with his tan and his aquiline features. I can appreciate them and revel in their Glory. I won't say that one has nothing to do with the other either (you wouldn't believe me anyway). My husband occassionally reaps the benefits of my attraction to other men. But many people would say that there is a huge disconnect there; a very dangerous disconnect that I should avoid.

I can't name that bridge either, but to me my attraction to one man does not diminish my attraction to another. I've certainly never acted on my attraction to other men because to me there's no conflict between the two (or several) attractions. In fact, one caresses the other often enough that it's hard to tell the difference. It's like a tangle of bodies inside me and sometimes it's hard to tell which foot belongs with which hand. But when I really look, I can see my husband's face, and it's more beautiful to me now than ever.

Another big disconnect in my life revolves around my friendship with Greg. I was warned the other day, yet again, to be careful. "Be careful of what?" I want to ask. But that's being saucy cuz I know what they're talking about. The problem is they are the ones who don't know what I'm talking about. Only Greg and I do, and like he said in his recent post: "...that's nothing spiritual, metaphysical or poetic, it's simply true." (Ok, I think it's all those things, but it is mostly True.)

My friendship with Greg, unconventional though it may be, is a bridge of sorts. To not have that friendship would be to deny a part of myself, like if I didn't acknowledge that I'm a writer baaaad things would happen. Writing has been the catalyst for recognising that there are disconnects within myself at all (more on that later), and Greg... well, he's just a damn good friend.

I get some residual disapproval over it from various well-meaning individuals. But then, maybe when someone disapproves of someone else building a bridge it's a way to justify their own discomfort with that particular disconnect. After all, if we don't see the bridge, then we don't have to cross it, right?