e.d.

I receive a strange message …. is it Jörn?

 

Electra’s dictionary and film noir/jmmusechron next chapter 

So I find I think of Jörn all the time; constantly and …. I wonder was it always this way? ….is it only that I am conscious of it now because …. or is it the fear of what danger he may be in?

I think of the thrill …. those times at Lincoln center; rushing to concert just to see him …. to watch him up there, so beautiful and golden in the lights and now, who knows what dark cover he has assumed for this new caper 

I don’t like this. Not to be near him has become a physical ache lately which— no, I don’t mean it in that way; I mean it in another way; a way I am not so familiar …. in a way that I never thought I was capable so—I wonder about it all with the world as it is

And I think about that Viking and that Celtic girl; a girl’s life I relive almost every night….

Maybe ….

it must mean something if it is another end to another era perhaps ….? 

I think of him that day in the lobby the first time I saw him …. I really don’t think I am supposed to ignore ….

He asks me to write about him here

 

he wants me to write of him; in the din of our world our separate peace

he wants to read how my words describe what our private dreams we wish to share do to me; or he wishes to crawl within my head and know my secret thoughts of him 

words that require decoding because, well, he knows that every thought I reveal, I say a thousand more 

so he wonders how would my contradictions describe one of —what— thousands of fleeting sexual thoughts of him? 

assuming …. do I? today —where, how, and how many…. such a bad boy —

No just a player —he needs my mind fucks to get through his day

But I know he’s just a player 

I’m your mind fuck forever seared into your mental retinas

searching….

…. his messages come to me and as clearly they do say so well; so very well….

as much as they do …. they do not …. 

e.d./in contemplation;world war z

The backdrop of Nazis and Hitler was always present in my life growing up. The stories and accounts were always in conversation. They came to my ears from grandparents as —it was quite impactful to our family background; on both sides—they covered all the territory of the events then —and was why they left Russia and Poland

So then there now were the stories to hear from those we met in the Netherlands. And I remember one in particular  I heard between my mother and an old survivor as they spoke outside the front steps of Anne Frank’s house and I listened to their conversation while I watched the canal boats…. you know, so, I guess it was not long since that Grim Reaper tore through when we first moved over there—relatively speaking, as I now look back and count the years 

I have said that I was brought up by the old Dutch men at the local Traveler’s Grill down the road where I lived and where I’d hide out for hours with these two old men and their stories. That was my education on life and the world 

and why I am so different from Americans where I am never understood by anyone 

Well, they warned me of such things we see now happening but, well ….and I keep thinking of Milan Kundera’s description of the invasion of Prague in his novel —which he witnessed in actual life…. 

these wars and world wars —it is a battle that seems to never resolve…. it seems to me, dark forces that gain muscle through lust of power, it is some dark dinosaur within the replication of mankind ….they cheaply spend lives not their own and we record this in the chronicles that are full of lies…. so, this ‘work’ of mine…. is it just a diary? why do I do it, what does it mean

A very Short: Melomusedramatic noir/e.d. (ou "une page par jour")

 

words in a journal, E.d.

Later….

still stuck to him, I think “he has washed away that other electra….” and think too much as usual, as I feel his fingers in my hair ….along with the heat as he moves to kiss my skin, going down my shoulder to my upper arm and stops there

I say,

“they send people into outer space and you wonder— for what —because it is not for humanity,” and then lean my head into him and close my eyes, “I find it all so empty and strange….don’t you? ….you know, mankind? —having the means to destroy with such venom when ….there are so many possible ….worlds….out there; maybe worse but who knows ….maybe not —maybe better—but would they bother to listen…. ?” I look up at him now, “so you are, what—just going, then? Like that, right? So, this may be  ….like the last time we may ever see each other—“ and he makes no reaction so I say, “and, you know…. again, we may never meet …. would you be sorry?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” he says in that voice (….and all resolve goes out the window), as he says, “my mission requires I return here to DC in a week or so but—I said, duva, you will hear from me….”

“Well…. “I keep my thoughts to myself not wanting to tempt the fates and so have to consciously push away all dark thoughts ….and so thus wrapped around him and —with the water pouring down …. no, after all, not too difficult to be distracted 

melodramatic