New Stuff and Old Stuff New

Host Publications: Literature from Everywhere Else! -- they're sending me fliers....
Daedelaus Books/Music: cheap, cheap, cheap. -- not new, but sure cheap.

Does anyone know why I would have written myself a note that said "diving bell and butterfly"? I don't. Let's ask Google.

Oh! It's a movie!!! Oh, it won at Cannes. Oh. heh. Neat. Found that note in my pocket the other day, had no Idea why. Cool, will have to watch soon.

Ok, so here's the Old Stuff New. I made a MySpace page to keep up with Mystk who went to Korea. I have no other use for it. Imagined no other use for it. When he comes back, I'll likely delete it. But, about two months ago, someone found me there.

Mike. Mike was my first lover, this was college, a while back. Things did not go well, or at least they didn't end well. In fact, they rather exploded. But, so there was this message, from this unrecognizable person who seemed to know me. I didn't answer it. For a long time. Then there was another that explained who he was, and I didn't answer that. I couldn't get this person and that previous person to meld, to make a continuum, because I hadn't seen/heard/or talked to him in nearly (wow) 20 years. Nor wanted to. Not. One. Bit. And here's this groovy, cool, sort of spiritually blissed out cat who is not-Mike, but Mike. And he's DElighted to have stumbled across me because he had some apologizing to do and some karma to clean, and a hope that we might be buddies. And he means that, buddies. And it was said that if I was in no mood for this, that was fine too.

Soooooo, I didn't write to him. I had some feeling around to do. Is it possible that That Guy, who got so possessive, who got so mean, who stalked and bothered and nearly threatened me, who left a voodoo pouch for me on my car with a spell written in blood and the whole nine, it is possible that he's This Guy, who is all "Hey, my sister's running the Buddhist center up there, and you might check it out, and how's your life, and I'm working on a movie I'm producing myself, and I'm really sorry I was such an asshat back there, and knowing you did me world of good, and I wanted you to know that."

Huh.

????...????

So, after a while, I answered him and explained that I had to think about this. That I had spent a lot of energy getting That Crap Back There off of me. And that this new Mike seemed nice enough, and whatnot. Now, one of the better legacies of That Mike, Old Mike, is that I am, well, cautious (internally, anyway). So, I said, look, nobody should have to carry bad karma when they've outgrown it, so OK, look, I want you well and happy, and there. Better. And I was cool and pretty distant, and thought that would about do it for Mike.

And better. He's really OK, and he's not that scared and scary boy who punished me for insisting on being myself, discovering that doing that with him was not possible without constant psychic self-defense, and leaving. The warning I gave him was exactly this, "The less you try to hold on to me, the more I'll stay." He did not listen. I didn't know I was telling myself about him. It was often marvelous and often very, very messy.

He's grown up, and grown way less scared. And yes, people, he's very aware of M, and how we're loving each other, and even reminded me that if I just set my heart right, I might find a job M and I can both go and live with, and gee PRSC, how good that would be since you're digging this guy so much. And so, I might have a new friend, we're chitting and chatting and catching up. He's still working with stories, being all creative and interesting, got things to say and good questions to ask. He's just. way. less. of. a. mess. Generous, even.

And so, huh. Look at the cosmos at work there. Here I am with a chance to re-examine (though not necessarily expunge) my rule about f*ckwits from my past remaining forever and eternity encased in their own hell of being their horrid, shriveled selves. While, I, you know, just sail on along free of them. They freeze in the ick, and I get to keep moving. No processing, no closure. I'm done, that's the closure. Why X and So came unglued is not interesting to me. That they did is a fact, and one to be responded to decisively. I stop imagining them and their lives, caring. Because, that's been the game plan so far. I'm also getting a little affirmation on my policy: If I meet you and feel an inclination to warn you about some aspect of myself; well, I'm really warning me about some aspect of your self. For now, I don't feel much inclination to warn him about anything.

Which goes to show, to my utter amazement, that some people really do, honest, grow. Which goes to show that you can, and I can, and that maybe that asshat in your past might have too. (note the might, people, i'm qualifying here -- i know good and well some folk are just plain bad and probably need to just live with their bad juju)

So, new stuff.