Sunday, November 01, 2009

Passion Lamented - Adventures of Mister Mister

Mister Mister found himself before his front door, without recalling the journey. It was amazing he found anything anymore, seemingly all of the pleasurable details were gone, or interrupted. An hour ago he should have received a text message from Betty notifying him of tomorrow's itinerary, but not today. It wasn't that he need such a reminder, he wrote the itinerary, but it was something they had teased each other about and in its absence he realized how much it meant.
Putting the sack on the counter and motioning to heat water for tea he faltered. There would only be need for half as much water this time. Hell he didn't even get sushi this time. How could he eat those crunchy rolls with the almonds, or enjoy the site of a vegetable tempura tower without his dinner guest.
If it was all Baudelaire, Kerouac, and Ginsberg for her then why didn't she follow through? "Why was the cry of my heart not the Siren's song which to herald your decent? Secret, forbidden love, painful for those we lived with, but undeniable all the same. This is your dream, life lived, without reflection, without consideration, just lived, recklessly. But you flinched." To punctuate his point Mister slammed the kettle on the range, at which Peaches looked up from the tiled floor. After setting the heat high he turned away from the cat's disapproving gaze. Crossing the room with arms a flail Mister's thoughts turned to those nuances that might lead to the answering of his own question.
Denied, rejected, but is it her dream or you? The way she leaned against you, the unrepeatable words whispered, stares silently traveling seemingly miles across the Void.
When Betty was hired on as an unpaid one-woman public relations and think tank Mister had hoped to harness even better ideas more frequently by having an observant and patient sounding board. Now it wasn't her silence he valued, but the image of her piercing eyes which he feared to never witness again. It was both this fear, and the teakettle, that he now tried to out shout.
"Why should I have not thought you reciprocated? The mist you surround your true heart in obscures a great crevasse. Doubting your intentions, plausible deniability, you would have it no other way."
"Maybe this furtive living is a path that can only sow a broken dream. For if you were to embrace the moment, let passion be, then your desire would manifest. Such a solid structure, dark and jagged, would be undeniable, even through thick fog. If this is true then you are not alone, my dear. You would share a destiny with the great Enkidu, a wild man of pre-civilization from Sumerian legend. He ran with the beasts, never settled, never sedentary. A cold chill slowed the flow of his blood and the beat of his heart when his loins were warmed by a woman, and isn't this your story as well, my Sappho?"
"Enkidu would go on many adventures with Gilgamesh, King of Ur. Ultimately he would die at the hands of the Lion of Heaven after upsetting the gods. Your tale has not been completed, yet, but I can't help but feel you missed a great chance to upset the gods. Oh Goddess of the big blue eyes let us cause epic trouble! Empty the hospitals and call in the riot police, we are hitting the streets. Lay waste to all those who would put labels on the magic and snuff out the light. Drink merry, cry out loud and sleep in the pale dawn light. Cover yourself in the hot blood of the kill, my Enkidu, live freely and deeply."



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