Sunday, 4 August 2013

drive to recast2

I have to embrace the fact that I’m a lesbian.

Just like my hair is now fully gray in the mirror, just how being a teenager I would see the future being reflected in all the colours in my head. It’s within me.

It’s hard to go from the word bisexual sometimes, I just tell everyone that I am bisexual so they see men besides me and a threesome in the bed but children all made without condoms, all unexpected like sudden rotten plants in the garden, my stomach all inflated.

I tell everyone that I’m a bisexual, so that they still have hope for me in their heads, that misery will come at my door along with the reaper who will not kill. And neither do I want children I wouldn’t love, I wouldn’t love anyone then if I was hetero.

You don’t want children until you meet the one. But what if my one won’t be able to give me and her children? What if we won’t mix to give a product of our love?

Music is enchanting.

I hear her and I feel my feet go behind me as my body bends behind and as her notes deepen I stand straight, my hands behind my back, my mirror showing my body, like a dream I seem sunken, my gray hair like a halo.

My feet keep shuffling as I do a perfect square, my body moving, when my eyes are opened and I don’t feel clumsy or fat anymore.

I feel ashamed to ask myself if I dance good, but instead I just keep dancing until she rests her eyes, gets a tumbler and drinks her yellow tea with cinnamon. I’ve seen her in the Sainsbury’s downstairs shuffling through boxes. She’s smaller than I am.

I feel her behind.

I could give her a name.

There was an old french movie and the man had called her Diana, but I had known a Diana in high school, so I just didn’t.

I also ask myself, what would inspire myself to pick up my own cello?

Would Ligeti inspire me again or will my sorrow last, until I will such sorrow, which will inspire me to write?

But then my inspiration is dancing, no matter how short the step will be.

I hear a knock on the door, the bell long broken, so that no tacky birds sing and I’m in flannel, opened with just my light blue bra underneath. I end up buttoning my shirt with realizing that the music is gone.


I literally added a few lines and wrote the ending for this chapter, I feel just as inspired about Cathy's story as usual and let's face it I have a thing for gray haired butch women XD they're just eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

even if I end up with curly closer to femme ones and they beat my day any time C:

I decided to check on the movie I mention earlier and the amazing translators did Diana instead of Tatiana which was originally (I mean, Diana sounded more exotic than Tanya to a russian person XD)

Thank you and please feel free to request :3

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