Tuesday, 25 November 2014

To Miles 44

We’re all dark creatures because our infatuation and sexualization of death seems to be more than the peak of us, rather some sort of cult as once my father had spoken, saying that it was because we knew that we would be judged upon the final day and thus that was where our obsession came, because we ourselves couldn’t judge ourselves and our curiosity upon how others saw us was solely over-shun by how the actual Lord would see us and what he would actually think of us and which sins were solely in our head, which were the ones for us to be forgiven and what was the final hammer and what was it, the final tact which we would dance to before death, what was it that tipped us over to the edge to finally rest from walking under the sole sky and on the muddy ground? What was it that was the final thing that we would see, just like the end of any novel, we were interested in hours and that’s why Alison would refuse to fortune tell deaths to ourselves, only talking cryptic, her hair entangled to match the eeriness of a spider’s web and the more I thought of her in Miles’ eyes the more she seemed like a black widow and if the Devil were to walk upon this land, whose body would he take in my life or was I the Devil itself?

And the more I thought, the more it seemed like a chant, like a mantra, like a sinful thought, what was the last drop and why was I more eager to believe in the Devil rather than God?

Was it because Alison’s eyes darkened on the last tipping edge, that she had been offered to exchange her soul for something else?

What would God do?

Or just like any righteous image he would solely restrain, just like any hero shows less incompetence and just the light doze of gold luck to turn things his way for thus that was meant to be? And why was the good side not tempting at all or was it solely because I didn’t seem to belong there, because I being gay seemed to be detached without thinking and speaking and why should my opinion change of a being who was capable of bathing us all in blood and taunting us with words of a bigger war through a fortune teller’s cards and what was good in telling us about a disaster which was supposed to happen? What was good about that when he himself, the Lord was the one causing the disaster? The Devil himself would watch and go exchanging souls and I could feel more of the Devil and I would wonder, thinking even darker how would it even feel to be asked about the deal and how much would it feel, how tempting would it be, was the pain that unbearable if something was attached?

Would I speak in tongues if possessed? 

How many of the myths were true and how many were just ripples on the ponds?

How much was even true?

And how much even happened when the veil of depression was upon my eyes?

How much love had I missed from Jamie as I myself seemed confused by the Devil himself?

How much had I been luring? How much had I been playing with fire? How much had I smashed my wrists upon until they would bleed against a pipe in a bathroom only to raise my head and maybe then I would see something and would it even appear in front of my eyes just to dismantle?

And how easy had it been to trick even if the sole thought would give a headache just as deep? 

How easy would it be to scatter the thoughts or would the thoughts scatter themselves?

How is it to look into something purely evil in the eye or do the thoughts just keep circulation and there is no actual change and no actual fear and what if the relaxation resembles the one during death?

And I knew these were my sole thoughts and sometimes after sex, you just go mute, the mind more than the stars and the emotions rising as if they were the sea breeze, blowing through the room, through every unnoticeable crack and sometimes discussion would even escalate into pyramids.

I’ve sure had sex with Jamie far much more than I’ve had with anyone else, I glance at him. I wonder if it was Alison or Miles and how often would it even be, more in a jealous way and I wondered if it seemed to torment me because something was going sour with Alison or had it solely been my head? And what was Miles’ thoughts regrading Jamie and Alison and where had the whole bitterness even come from?

“What’s with Miles and Alison?” I ask suddenly and Jamie just blinks, before he sighs and just kisses my shoulder. 

“Miles never properly told me, both of them claimed to have some rivalry in the past, but I never fully understood how far had it developed and Miles begged me not to ask and that one day, all of it would unlock and he would tell and Alison just refused to speak and over the years, maybe whatever had happened had erased as soon as I stopped dating him, but I honestly... just have a few ideas crawling in my mind, but I can’t blame either for something I’m not sure either of them did and looking at them now, I guess the forgiven belongs to the forgotten as well.” He pauses. “Miles was quite... shaken by whatever had happened. I’m guessing it had to do something with Alison inheriting the family’s gift and he hadn’t.”

Jamie rolls onto the side, sitting up and bending down to get my pants which have a packet of cigarettes. He lights one, glancing at me, before giving me the first inhale and I watch his tousled sexual being. I watch his hair and I wonder how soon will I miss its touch even more and how much would it even expand and how many holes will I be able to lace through myself and how many will I continue to open myself so that I would bleed, thinking that perhaps the lack of blood would ease it, but more will develop by white blood cells and it would keep getting worse, a constant state of resurrection and in the emergency room with no one to attend me, not even due to my condition, but due to the lack of Jamie Hince himself.

“So... I’m guessing, perhaps something happened between them. Alison seemed just as hurt when I had met her, she wouldn’t speak too fondly of her brother who seemed to have no idea what to even do with his life, so I’m guessing the fact that I showed up and showed something acceptable instead of just moping around with no idea and being shoved into something a pair of fortune telling families could not understand what to do, seemed awful to each and every one of them. And then he met me and exclaimed, yeah, I’ll be a sailor.” He shrugs. “So I have no idea, who had let down who, because both seemed just as hurt, but now they seemed to have calmed down and now it’s Miles AND Alison at my throat for understandable reasons. Well, Alison at least...”

“I always wondered if I was the one who ended up tempting her to cheat on me as well since I would always have someone else on my cards even if my words would speak otherwise and I would come up with any excuse, but sometimes cards lie as they speak from the lips, but the interpretation will reach the person who asked their fortune, just for them to understand, because it’s still their life, not the fortune teller’s.” He chews on his bottom lip, looking far up, still thinking and musing, unwrapping each thought gingerly as the wrong received Christmas presents. 

“What if I was the one who had caused the mirror effect, because if a marriage was a mirror, it was still the one’s who brought the ghosts’ fault for all its turbulence and disturbance and I happen to be more than a chain rattling ghost, I happened to have far too many lovers and encounters because I, just like Miles, seemed to have something...” He pauses. “...Wrong with Alison. Some subtle gut feeling, which is even allowed to speak out as I keep thinking about everything, tongue fully untied post-coital. I mean, I know she’s a fortune teller, but at times I wondered if I was just going along for I had shown up as the father of her children on her cards and we seemed to go along with it, I loved her... I do love her.”


“But it still puzzles me, how much do cards tell? Because they do. But who is it that I end up with or is because I end up with two, is that too much for the cards to even mutter to me?” The question is asked to the open, without even recalling a response of my lips, as the cigarette is just lazily dragged from mouth to mouth to be finished for the next, to escalate into a chain smoking glamorous gay sailor event. 

“I think cards just tell what they tell, but what is it that they tell... it’s surely something we are fated, because our life is still awfully simple which a deck of cards is much easier for us to tell. We think our lives are not simple, but they are. What do we do? We love, hate, fuck, eat, sleep and that’s pretty much it and a bunch of random activities and even if you think on love, we don’t even love that many people and we are not as intelligently wrapped in love affairs as a tree’s branches, we don’t try reaching for the sky, we are happily and simply happy on shore or on the ship and we choose the simplest ways to live, solely because we are terrified of our own judgement, we play safe perhaps because we are our Lords and we want ourselves to be thankful for the shitty, simple lives where we are outlaws regardless of what we do and where we think that skin seems to dominate everything, that chemical compounds seem to make a fucking massive difference. It doesn’t, yet we place ourselves above others for the nasty tingle we get hate, because for some reason the person doesn’t please us with their feelings towards us and it’s a cycle, it’s a fucking ugly cycle and besides love, that is the second branch and I don’t think a two branched tree even exists or is pretty, so therefore... perhaps we don’t exist by the end of the day, if we can’t even recall our own death in a relative measurement as time which holds our death dates.” I shift sadder into thinking about death, about my own fear of getting judged and getting something red wrapped around my neck, as if it were the inquisition because it hadn’t reached me whilst I was solely alive and thinking that my existence had meant something.

“I didn’t want to die when I was fifteen and the fear kept escalating, that I was doing nothing, that everything was planned and I just kept working and my own confusion regarding the people I loved. I loved both men and women and both seemed to be attractive under different lights and the love was deeply different, it was like trying to different dishes and it wasn’t even which one I preferred, both were different and both seemed to be needed. I didn’t understand how could people choose one over the other and my own confusion seemed to yank me out of the fear of death, solely because we distract ourselves from the upcoming death which travels, from what you said, through relative things such as time. Because time just stops existing but it still manages to hold our fear back, the whole fact that we’ve got time left unless someone pulls a trigger upon us...” I get a quick sense of deja vu on the trigger, but I guess it’s because I had gun training and for some reason weapons and machinery, even my own turret, would echo some deeper deja vu for no reason over the years, even as I would look over and try to see where to even hit the target, because all seemed too relative as we were discussing. “So the fear would escalate silently over the years and I seemed to be getting worse, thinking that I do nothing. That I hadn’t let myself immerse into anyone and me and Alison seemed to be dancing mindlessly and I wondered if people’s words regarding cards weren’t true, but the more she would predict deaths, minor incidents and the birth of our children the more I would see...”

“I guess the oddest was the fact that she had shuffled for us and I recall I had been drinking coffee with Archie constantly jumping on me and she had put a card of something heavily departing from both of us. And she had solely wrapped up the deck and I had presumed that she had been cheating on me and we seemed to have other cards besides each other’s as we would keep on predicting what would lay, what would await us and our mouths were locked because we ourselves knew the sins we thought we would be judged for and of course we judged the other for never speaking. And perhaps it is cards which drive us insane, because either way, no matter how we find out how time relatively is holding back our misery, judgment or excitement, we know what awaits, not our physical death but if we die internally when does it happen and why. We all know and some morons try to deny it, but it’s because they’re dead inside already. If you don’t believe in fate, that’s because you don’t have one. Be critical, be brutal, for those who don’t believe in you, shouldn’t be believed in vice versa. I believe in fate.”

He says that all chewing his turn on the cigarette. 

And he is more beautiful than I had ever seen him, maybe because of all the traces of sadness we both seemed to carry in our pockets due to the departure for months in a few hours and all of our misery gathering and all of our desire to say that time is relative, because if love were to break our bonds, it would’ve, but all is intact, sometimes love is so strong that even breaks the bonds which were to hold in to break it. Sometimes fate is so strong that it breaks itself, it becomes a matter of something can only break itself in the way it wants and our love seems to be breaking anything in its path and time wasn’t even relative anymore, it was as subtle as any wave which would become a ripple in a child’s play, a shadow play which held no significance and maybe that is what the Devil offers if he is sure that one is scared that such love won’t happen and that is when the bond breaks, because you don’t think it’ll happen and it’s not even that you get punished, all just resolves and love becomes time, the thing which is far from relative, the dragging thing and the measuring time and space item, the sole thread in all the cloth, which never breaks and holds all the material together

maybe love is dark matter

and maybe I just want Jamie back already, because no matter how much we break and speak the pain will inhale and escalate to the heavens, making us lose control in a way that even I fear that he would leave me in a way, that the letters would never be meant to arrive and I would be left alone in fear and isolation, for my lover wouldn’t look back at me and I shall solely regret all the kiss he had given me through out something relative. 

“Maybe love is the journey for one to know how deep can they love?” Jamie’s voice echoes from before as past seem to strike present down, as I just look at him in a more vast and clear light, as I take the cigarette just to blow smoke in his face for him to inhale, closing his eyes, sexually before kissing me softly just to slowly kill the moment for some more frustration and sex reminder. “That’s what I would think with Alison.”

And it is their bitterness which shakes me away from them as a couple, it’s like watching some royalty get arranged married for no reason other than some twisted fantasies which I only prayed someone would jerk off to to give it some abstract value. Because marriage without love seemed to hold no significance because we seemed to give to many lives a random dice roll for them solely to be judged, when we ourselves judged enough already so what was the point of judging others to suicide, to the obsession, to the tip, as my father put it, of judgement day so that they would either inhale or exhale fear, doubt and protest because we all seemed to escalating into hell.


I coughed.

Maybe I had caught some damn slow fading winter cold again or maybe I just had shouted too often during sex and that just made me more excited as I gently pulled Jamie’s lip, our relationship being one whole sexual act of something mutual, even if it were not from the beginning perhaps everyone being fucked up in life made it more interesting and made all of us the Devil, for God wouldn’t even be interested in us, in our beings and souls to even trade them since he had counted them as granted. 

Maybe life was more than a sole puzzle, all pieces seemed to be missing beside the person but maybe we had all been given the absolutely wrong instructions for us to fail, yet to find the ones?


I exhale, letting the pilot invade my mind in a moment of silence with another lover, even if they were to never intertwine, like wild roses and I had loved them such and wanted to make love to them such, I loved them both in the ways you would love a wild rose, like both you and them would tell you to, with the thorns piercing and slicing the skin to reveal the blood to bathe naturally in, without drowning, adding colour to the skin and revealing the fear of loving someone else in an odd mutual twisted way.


I realized that during last Nano, I had the long conversation between Miles, Alex and Julian and I guess now we've got Hince and Alex. I'm sad that Nano is approaching an end and I should really binge tomorrow to catch up and frankly start wrapping up closer to 50k and even finish, so I'm happy to binge and do word wars with anyone really, so just pop me a message :)

I'm awfully excited, but obviously with mood swings it comes with fear and the fact that I have not only to catch up but write a lot:) I also felt a bit knocked out today due to the fact that I had an awful incident at a hairdressers where they didn't only misgender me, called me female but even gave me a different name. It was awful and tried to get a higher price and refused to take the cancellation, it was awful, so yeah. I'm a bit calmer down, but sometimes when something like that happens I just shut down and I think the fact that I discover how high I actually make my voice due to it breaking recently made me even sadder. I fucking sound like Harry Styles, it's fucking weird. Anyway and it's quite sad that dysphoria gets really bad and I'm quite poetic right now as I should be off to bed or writing nano and here I am, I erased a phrase to be used. 

It's weird because I'm ahead so I have to keep my sadness to myself for now.

I use things which I've been told maybe many years ago and I remember my dad had once said that humanity has a cult of death in my teenage years and went on a long speech about it, that came back to me and thus this paragraph was born. I get a lot from talking to my parents and as I was awfully lonely growing up and no one seemed to be reading the books I would, I would talk to my parents a lot and now it's a bit odd that I've read more and different ones, my focus is different and of course I focus on queer authors and I seem to be writing my own even more. 
But Alex's thoughts are different of course.

The more I write Alison, the more I give her my fortune telling abilities and once I was asked if I could do a full life fortune telling and I said I needed time, because I don't do those usually. I don't like them that much, as I seem to be better at future ones, scattered and those are the ones I've been using my whole life, vague yet accurate. All lovers predicted, really.

It's not my fave thing to talk about this at night, but of course you always wonder if you had wandered too much, because it is an interesting subject and we are all curious and I leave it at my fiction. I guess regardless of how much I hated the Ninth Gate, it still made a point that the more you venture the more dragged in you get even if you yourself didn't venture deliberately. I hated it, but it still springs in my head and I muse on it. Speaking of such things, I really enjoyed The Conjuring and I was very pleasantly surprised to see them do everything properly, prepare everything and I could point out everything they were doing and why, there was just one thing I wouldn't do, but it's more like I wouldn't go around cursing on whomever was there, but that's not a mistake, rather how everyone would handle, but I was really surprised and loved how well they did everything, so I guess if going by what I go and what I know, the Conjuring is a good thing to watch if you want more backstory on how everything works and if to explain the story '-' in a better light. 

I guess being open, I'll see whether I'll have Alex have the same thing Alison described, but To Miles deals with it, so I'll see and I tried to be as accurate and yeah, I'll leave it as such. I think I'm still awfully obvious. I like discussing it because it's interesting but frankly terrifying y'know. Again, better descriptions and a close resemblance would be '-' (that's the story title xD). I also go deeper on the subject in the backstories as well. 

I was just going on the whole usual debate, why God allows everything if y'know presuming that he exists, I do contradict myself, I know. And it's just something Alex would think about it rather than myself.

I find it interesting to write Alex who didn't have anything like that and just have him think around or Alison, really, who had.

So yeah, I just think around as if I hadn't known, really and it's not the best topic to discuss, it's far from fun.

Wow, I made a sudden change into sex, anyway.

After sex you shut down, so that's where it comes from. I always get the most loosen and talk of the most bizarre things sometimes, but that's for me and Callie to recall xD

Before Alison fucked up, I was musing on this Alison and Miles arc and I'm keeping it and slowly will start going in it. 

As far as I know I was the only one from my mom and my sister who got card fortune telling, everyone else dreams and etc. But then I would keep doing it over the years and keeping it up, even got a book xD

I just love describing Jamie, dunno, I do.

I never really struggled with what I wanted to be, I wanted to go further into teaching English, but everyone pressured me out and I wanted Psychology as well, so I just ended up pursuing it and frankly I wouldn't stand a bunch of heteronormative wankers, but what saddens me from this whole story was that I won't ever be able to study English Literature as I wanted in the UK, a old, old, old childhood dream of mine, fuck you, UK for being a xenophobic scumbag machine, but then I wouldn't focus on psychology now and I have the freedom to write as I want and read as I want, but my anger doesn't stop from because me being happy, what revolts me will keep revolting me.

I like fate, I like talking about fate and of course, I get scared ever since my therapist fucked me up what if fate doesn't exist, which just makes me feel very self-conscious and even more, but hey, more things to think over and confirm fate over stories, yay xD

I feel odd, because I feel like I have discussion with my own fear with my characters because sometimes they touch subjects I am scared of to address to myself, so it even becomes a bit of a letter from me and Callie to me, because Callie usually reassures me obviously xD

I love reading Jamie's interviews and even if I don't like his Esquire ones, they have interesting bits like his whole fear of losing time and dying, which is something I feel every day, I always think that I'm losing time, that I am wasting my life, that's why I hate sleeping. 

I'll just be silent on spoilers x) and Chekhov's guns through out the story:)


All my sad one-liners are me being angsty, having a crush isn't fun sometimes. Well, it's lovely but in limbo sucks awfully.

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me if you did :3 thank you for the love



To Miles 45

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