Wednesday, 5 November 2014

To Miles 37

Lust gets worse and restrained and the fact that we’ve got a short expiry date seems to be the target of my nuisance along with the fact that I would have to be at the said dinner party, which I am solely tagging along because I always seemed to go and visit Alison whenever we would stop here. It was as if it was even rude for me not to visit and let her throw her cards at me and for some reason it was as if I was writing questions down to ask her, what had she thought of spirits and what was her own stance on religion, on the God and the Devil if they actually existed or if they were all a way for us to judge ourselves and a tipping point over to the water for us to sink. 

And how far would Jamie’s doubt go regarding religion as well? 

But the problem was religion aside, the secret seemed to be eating me out as well, it seemed to be pushing me forwards, off the deck and I have no idea why was I worrying over Jamie’s wife when I knew that he loved her and they were both committing the same crimes if to even call them crimes. Is it because she had slept with a woman? Is it because Jamie had slept with a man? Or was Jamie’s biggest crime sleeping with Miles? Or was it even Miles’ crime and we seemed as if we had all been from a promiscuous novel and all we needed was some satisfaction in the end, which neither of us seemed to achieve together but rather apart and I wondered how long would Jamie and Alison even last. Were they even a couple which could hold and now they had the next child nearly at their doorstep and I hadn’t properly gotten a gift, but I presumed Jamie could give me a hint on what they had both wanted and it seemed like anything was a reason just to steal glances at him and have a bigger lust to touch him.

We’re all sexual to some extent or the other, it wasn’t our fault that the cinema and the novels would cut the obscenity and that we seemed to be traitors of humanity, it wasn’t as if man had never slept with man, if to get a culprit for anything you could blame religion, but you could also blame it for the sanity of the nation, but then medication can kill the patient and the right dosage is different for each individual. 

And even when it came to love, it ended up being two mixes of everyone’s religion and I wondered how much had Alison’s cards shown her, because they had both solemnly kept their silence away from each other and my thoughts always seemed to tumble to knowing of Lana’s existence in Alison’s life. And how she could tip it over and seemed awful that both me and Lana were on different camp sides, but Lana had laughed that I seemed to venture away from married men, but it was just that I never was attracted to any, but then attraction unfolds sometimes and in the harshest of ways-

“Alex?” I didn’t even notice the waitress and Jamie orders a glass of wine and I just speak up, looking up at her crisp white apron, never reaching up to see her eyes. 

“Vanilla milkshake, please.” I hand the menu over and I just sit back, watching Jamie smirk. 

“Never knew you liked milkshakes.” He says, playing with a napkin and I see how awkward we feel in public even if we’ve been on shore before but it was before we had reconciled with our feelings and ourselves in our heads. Maybe I never got to see Jamie outside the navy, maybe that’s why I wasn’t as frustrated as Miles with Jamie that he decided not to leave Alison, but then we’ve all got our bundle of feelings, sometimes people have it for one and many discarded or sometimes people keep it for many, just because they have a big box or maybe the people just mean a lot. And I wonder how many small things we don’t know about each other. And if the drift will just highlight it and when I’m off shore life onshore seems far too artificial, I don’t know why people run around, why shops close so early and how come it is harder to reach someone else, days are far too articulated and it feels far more attached to duties, far more spacious. I recall how panicked I felt first time back on shore and back at my parent’s house and I had even locked myself in my room, lying on the floor for no reason, watching the ceiling and how they had changed the colour as if they were reminding me that I was no longer a child.

And Matt had then walked in and he lay besides me and we didn’t say anything and didn’t touch. I knew all of Matt’s bad habits, all of his insecurities, but he had hidden his love for me, which is the biggest thing I could’ve not known and here was Jamie with his love onshore and offshore and in no way did it make me feel claustrophobic, it consumed it, nourished me and reminded me of how empty I would be without him and letters would take weeks to arrive and it didn’t matter how long it would take because I wanted to see the tall letters forming words from his fingers and pen, how he wouldn’t smudge it, while I sometimes do while sleepy and I don’t bother to start the letter again. 

And I had wanted to see Matt’s face in that moment when my reality detached itself from my childhood and all my dreams had been taken in a suitcase with me. And I wondered if it would be like a suicide for everyone else and if I would’ve have been mourned, but I was always like this, only before I had the suitcase unlocked onshore with all it’s glittering stars and globes. 

Fear still entangles me just because I can feel her and her side digging into mine, as if she and Jamie are holding me from speaking. And I can feel everything falling, everything folding and I know who is carrying the briefcase now.
There is the whole fear of being left alone, something small from my side or from someone else’s to break the bond an before I even understand what’s going on, I’ll be left with the same mind an they will leave with another.

And it’s just been a few months and we already have to depart for a while and he still looks at me amused as I open the straw and blow into it so that the wrapper ends up nearly in his wine. Jamie laughs lightly removing it from the edges and flicks it back to me. I take a sip to feel the vanilla taste fill my mouth and I gulp it, my eyes not turning away for a second from his. Our choices of drinks even seem a bit ironic and perhaps a bit age fitting. I’ve never really went for anyone that much older, all the pilots I would have crushes on would solely be a few years older and before the gap had seemed bigger, even when I had just known him, but age is still something given to us by society with it’s restrictions. 

“I never knew Alison was queer.” The fear is so thick it smudges the lips. I just blink, I guess in a household where as far as I knew Jamie had told Alison that he was queer in some way, it only seemed obvious that perhaps Alison would speak of her own and usually Lana tended to go for women who were aware of what they had wanted besides their husbands or instead in some cases, but I wasn’t aware of her backstory with Alison, rather just the sole fact that she seemed to be with her. I could only presume that she had met her sometime onshore and had flirted with her, Lana was never the type to stay quiet, I had watched her once, a bit lovestruck by Paul at the time and I wasn’t interested in checking out anyone and women always seemed a blur to me. I had tried but they just wouldn’t stick and it was the same when it came to men for Lana, even if we had both joked that we still somehow managed to stand each other. And when it came to men even with the briefest of friends I would still end up fancying them in one way or another, the fact if we had slept or not was a different one. 

And it seemed more ironic that anyone who recently would sleep with me, any hints of friendship would make them get sent off, yet I held onto Julian but our relationship had its sexual edges which we were both aware of, just that I always had other men in mind even if there were a few. 

“Oh.” I say nearly silently, looking up at him and he took a big gulp of wine, hands crossed on the table, looking outside from the window and watching everyone just scatter and it wouldn’t be as long before the winter sky would enchant us with the whole illusion of being stale and reminding itself of a ceiling, maybe the inside of a balloon only there would be nothing outside. 

My desire of flying seemed to be far easily erased as time went on and I was mostly thinking of the other men and how I could just be with Matt, talk with him, but I ended up being a gunner, which I don’t regret as much as I just enjoy doing it for a few years already. 

“Does it get starry on a frosty night here?” I ask and Jamie looks back, his thoughts still being like a ping pong ball. He nods slowly and I catch up, maybe my own desire to yank him back was a bit less selfish than I intended, if he was willing to wait for Alison to reveal everything, then perhaps it should stay that way and I was the one to shift the chair to face the wrong window. “Where I grew up, it would always get starry in winter and if you’d go somewhere and the sky is still gray with the moon, you can see how the trees pretty much just slash the sky with the small branches, how they slice the clouds. You can easily imagine that.”

“Yeah, we get that... only not too often and I can’t say the parks here are that pretty. I guess I just wanted to move somewhere from my hometown and Alison’s from here, she wanted to stay with her family.” He pauses. “Naturally this is where I met them while being onshore and where I met Miles. He’s actually got a small house here. He got it recently, he told me randomly while I guess, we both decided to ask how each was doing. It’s a bit odd... the dinner parties. I just have to sit next to him and pretend that he’s solely a sailor now, it’s as if the ranks can fog my mind a bit, but that doesn’t stop my hands from shaking, does it?”

He smiles sadly and I just press my leg harder against his, all I can do. I can’t really hold his hand or hug him let alone kiss him. 

“I’m sure... I won’t be much better.” I pause. “I’ve been thinking of it, is it harder to forget the short with the wrong expectations or the open long betrayal?”

We both shrug as if I had asked the same question to myself. Jamie takes out said started cigarette box and tears the edges a bit in frustration before giving a cigarette each. I use my lighter to light his as he leans a bit too close, trying to keep his cool as we both stare into each other’s eyes for a bit and all can be dismissed as the old lighter doesn’t light everything right away and we both wait until the flame breaks the moment, Jamie leaning back into his chair, content with our kindergarden attraction moment. 

We speak of Miles too much, as if our lives would be dedicated to the thorn which brought us together or the person who could’ve been our link if we never knew each other, if we just saluted each other. And I wonder how long would even Miles’ dedication be at the start of my novel and how further would the talks of him expand and how long would he even manage to be crawling on the boards, but for Jamie it seemed like a very long while with the not-so-lost ex, since he was with him onboard and the fact that he was also Alison’s brother was not only just known from the start. And I wonder how much had even went through his mind, as I had known a lot from Miles’ perspective, but how much was else there from Jamie’s?

I just recall how Miles had spoken of how much he had wanted Jamie, how he was influenced by him and that’s why he had chosen the navy, a more romantic way rather than my own, which was just to be among men, among Matt and I aimed for a pilot briefly, before realizing that I could still see them anyway. And this was also my first destroyer. 

“Maybe it matters on the love, but I still think it’s wrong to measure love.” He says and nods at the waitress, who just takes a refill of our orders as I continue sipping halfway through my milkshake but with the temptation of a new one, I just finish this one, far too tempted to feel the sugar drink again, since it’s the only thing I tend to miss from the shore, well maybe one day we would have proper milkshakes on ships. Although it’s hard to imagine some better food served in any armed forces, regardless of rank, at least to my sole mind. I nod at Jamie’s words, my drink finished that Jamie pauses to look at the empty tall milkshake glass. He says, to anyone particular but the air. “I guess you do like milkshakes.”

I wonder if we look cold unless looked under the table, how cold does every man look with another man and is it the colder ones which actually love each other? 

Paul and Daniel once told me that the more artificial a meeting between two men look, the most likely they’ve had something sexual in the past, even a mere thought is enough to cause the artificial flavouring and colouring in their hands. And I wonder if we had catalyzed it enough to be queerly artificial? How low would we rank?

And why are we judged if we’re not sure we even will be judged by the Lord? Let alone doubt his existence. 

“Then... you’d say it’s equal?” I just confirm, getting excited over seeing the said second milkshake getting carried with another glass of Jamie’s wine. We keep quiet and the woman just presumes there’s something else and I’m sure she questions if we have wives and Jamie’s ring is more than gold in her head. I wonder how many times have I been paired with women in someone else’s head, how many times have people wanted my photograph with another woman?

“I think so. Your love is surely not weaker than my own.” And my cheeks heat up, as if I was the talk again, but we both just simultaneously take a gulp of our drinks. It feels odd that the only purely sexual thing we can do is look at each other in public, that includes the canteen in the ship where everyone knows how hookups work in the navy and how much men do even think of women and I always wonder how artificial does society become if we ourselves have to be artificial and we don’t stand up. I won’t go saying that I want to be open, neither will Jamie, it will never cross Matt’s mind and Miles would just leave it alone after getting Jamie’s refusal of living with him. So neither of us stands up, Paul and Daniel just stayed on the sides, we all do, because we all presume that silence is better than death and we leave it at such. And we just get discarded, people fight for equality and we’ve been thrashed so much that our silence is enough for our peace, regardless of how much we struggle. 

“And loneliness makes us do things...” He holds his pause and points at said milkshake. “Can I try?”

I just nod and he takes a small sip, but he doesn’t say if it’s too sweet or anything, instead he’s still strolling in my eyes and in his own thoughts, wandering just as wide. He leans his head against his palm, still focusing on the window only looking at me just to look back into the decreasing amount of people outside. You never notice how little you can say in the span of a few hours, we would pick up talks which were midway brought through the night to the next one. 

“Sometimes I get... flashes of my hometown, maybe because we’re in Alison’s...” He rubs the corner of his eye. “Like sometimes I miss it, even if I don’t have the fondest of memories, something random like some narrow passageway between houses or some taste of an ice cream stand. Not my parents though, or family.”

He taps his fingers on the table.

“They passed away quite a few years ago and... we were never close and I guess I never wanted to be close with them. Surely not people I would want to talk to of who I actually was and all my intentions in life.” He pushes the ashtray a bit towards the window. “But even then, I still miss them, but I was quite determined to go somewhere where I wouldn’t be myself and in reality you still remain yourself... only you’re given the option to actually be quiet.”

“And that’s when I realized that I don’t just hate people, I just find it hard to talk too much to them.” He quickly adds. “Obviously, besides you. I think there’s too much disappointment, you think the world would take someone like you... it doesn’t. You’re left-”

He brushes his leg against mine again.

“Brushing legs under a fucking table because people pretend that God only loves sex between certain people at certain fucking times.” He says it nearly in a whisper but presses his lips together, looking away from the waitress checking in on our nearly full beverages. “You’ll always get people awing at a man and a woman holding hands, but never women with women or men with men. Hell, I thought Alison’s lover was male. I’m fucked up as well.”

Jamie sighs too loudly, playing with the ashtray. He clicks his tongue.

“Do you know her?” He manages to find the courage to observe me intensely as the question is asked and I feel dissected. 

“Yeah, I do.” I mutter slowly, watching him, throwing the ball back. I hear him swallow, look at me, his eyes shake lightly and look back down, take a small sip and fiddle with his fingers, hair a bit dismantled now. Jamie pulls his bottom lip, concentrating on the ashtray, his eyes now closed as he wonders if it’s better to allow Alison to open the box or himself. 

“Does Alison know about me?” I ask softly, wondering if it would easen the blow with thes score settled or would they be enemies again, only with the guns openly held in each hand and if we were chewing on life far too bitterly, only to reveal we were the ones causing the itch. He just shakes his head and I sigh and neither am I the one to tell Alison and frankly if I were to actually not mind her existence, my opinion is not the one that matters, it’s the wife who can surrender her husband for buggery and the fact that he’s in the military makes it even worse and what is the evidence? The sole word of the woman is more than enough. The sole word is enough, just the fact that a person can be in the same box as the medical term homosexual, the desease is enough for a person to be locked up regardless of what he had done or not, the fact that the fact that he could be gay matches in the head is more than enough. All is enough if in the eyes of the judger you are gay.

And she’s the primary partner, isn’t she? She’s the wife with all the cards, not fortune telling ones, although those as well, but I wonder if she had ever looked in the pond to reveal the reflection of her true husband, which she had known, but the question is always how much does the other person actually know? How much do they weild? Jamie just holds it, not asking any more questions about Lana and I wonder how would it feel if he had known her, but then he does, if she’s attending the damned dinner party. 


It's a bit weird talking when I'm much ahead a chapter, so my mind is more, shit THAT IS HAPPENING. So yeah, my anxiety levels are high and I always have the constant fear that I'll fuck it up, but you've enjoyed it so far then you know the rest, really. I honestly hope you enjoy it so far. And I guess roughly it's less than twenty chapters or so for November regarding To Miles. It's a bit odd because it's still feels awfully small scale, because I didn't even fucking get to part 2 and there's everything to go ahead, I know I talk about how there's a bunch ahead but the thing is, there is and this is enormous and there's like at least 10 characters which haven't made an appearance or a proper come back and it's still the whole of war and a bit of post-war for the epilogue. I don't know the exact moment where the story, prior to the epilogue ends and on what note to be fairly honest. I know the epilogue and the full ending, the scene is still the same with minor changes. 

My thoughts are awfully messy and I can change topic in the snap of a few fingers, so I guess Alex gets that quality, because I still write subconsciously, so of course this is what happens, Alex's thoughts racing and also sometimes I space out, so does Alex as well.

I caught myself thinking that I really feel like I have to strip off the present when I write it, I have to shove away all my dysphoria story thoughts for December and think in a more restricted society and it's odd because I'm a PDA person, so I really hold everyone in To Miles because they really can't do anything. So it's really a big mental transition. Also I've been pretty much nearly writing all the time during word wars and it's been awfully helpful and that's how it seems I'll be doing Nanowrimo:) 

One of the things I realized a few months ago, but didn't have the chance to include was the fact that Alex would order a milkshake with Jamie or anyone in that matter on shore. And I remember I was in the Nano forums and they were asking what would your character eat as their last meal and I thought for a while and I think he would order a milkshake and then wine, because he always drinks wine with Jamie and milkshakes because it's a bit linked to Matt and in general I always think of Alex and milkshakes, I guess the first scene is just stuck on my eyelids for me to see. I dunno, it's weird it's over a year old and 100k + and nowhere close, I guess I'll be writing it for the next few years, I think and yeah, tell me if you like it, since I'm an anxiety wreck. I dunno I just find it odd, there's barely any polyamory in fiction, queer men as well and even if they're portrayed people forget how it used to be. I myself didn't know many things until recent, I fucking get offended when people think that solely women have problems, cis and trans, because there's many laws extending solely to gay men around the world and anyone queer is fucked. 

I miss writing Matt and the scene with him and Alex was precious to write. I like writing all of Alex's relationships and of course, Matt's. I had the strong image of the suitcase, now that I'm sleepy I think a bit of Pulp Fiction, but this is me sleepy and in this case I fucking know what's in the suitcase, rather than just shrugging it off xD

I have to find tension and love in small actions, like Alex lighting Jamie's cigarette, it's quite weird and complex to think, because it was so taboo back then. Or how they brush legs under the table. 

I feel weird, because I feel detached from where I lived before Sweden, but I still get flashes and sometimes when I sleep my mind drifts off to the Grassmarket or other locations, because city-wise I really loved it and it's a bit hard because I fought for it for years and years, so a lot of my stories have a sad undeceive echo, because the nostalgia is a loud word, is missing something you don't want back. It's really weird, I also have that with London, the last few times I was there I didn't enjoy it at all, I would get sad that it wasn't like it was in my childhood, in general I get sad that everything changed through out the past several years in the UK (I think I have the fucking right to complain) so that gets me sad and that's why I include this odd melancholic nostalgias to my characters, like Jamie speaking of his home town. I'd speak more of the anonymity of the cities in To Miles, it's intentional, but the next chapter or so (depending on how I break the next big chunk) has Alex explaining it as I always see To Miles as a journal sort of thing and Jamie's chapter is pretty much like a torn out page from his journal. 

The theme of death and relatives, it's a bit odd to think… that many people will never find out who you really are, because of society's rules it's not even that you kept silent from them, you were silent from yourself. 

Jamie's introverted nature is widely inspired by my own. I sometimes find it hard to talk to people even if I'm actually quite talkative, but I just maximize my introverted state and I'm still I think the closest to Jamie from all characters if going by nature and characteristics. 

I found it interesting to add that Jamie presumed that Alison had a male lover to be honest, that we all fuck up, we still have society in our heads programmed. And the whole Lana/Alison/Jamie/Alex is such a long ago thought of arc, I have no idea. Originally it was a bit different but when the scene comes I'll explain what was the original plan. 

It's that scene which I was clinging on my dear life and then Jamie confessed and I was like… I can't write that scene, fuck. And it was my most anticipated scene as well from the beginning and I had to chuck it out, I struggled for a few days, thinking what to do and then I thought of it and it's even more heart shattering, I think. And fluttering if you must. 

I wondered if to include at least one scene from the next scene, but figured to leave it here, I'll have the other chapter posted up so you'll have some characters back, tadah xD

Go poke me to post it, honestly, otherwise I just hide under the bed covers, tell me you like it xD let's talk about whomever, I love talking about To Miles as self-obsessed as it is xD

Thank you



To Miles 38

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