Tuesday, 9 December 2014

To Miles 46

Sometimes the deepest sleep is not the most pleasant and it’s usually the one where you want to forget that either the night before happened of the day upon to get the fuck over.
"TURNER WAKE UP!" And I just hear it through the waves of sleep, barely vibrating and filling myself back into a dream with some school lockers.
"Let Turner fucking sleep…" I open my eyes to see a paler, less kept this day Carlos. I overslept our departure I’m guessing since the sly rocking is back and that just makes my whole body sink, but we agreed that Jamie wouldn’t come. Seeing us again would just make us weep in public.
"…Sir!" And eyes are all on Dengler, mine included and I realise in what a competent crew I’m placed. My body aches from the opposite which insomnia could’ve given me. I sit up, a little, not to hit my head.
"Just because Captain Hince isn’t here to yell at your incompetence Turner, doesn’t mean, I won’t! Commander Molko will be taking the Captain’s place and he will keep this just as-" The speech looks as if it went through some stamping technique Jamie developed over the years for Miles to observe, so I just narrow my eyes lightly and instead Miles just yanks me out of the bed.
"WHAT THE FUCK, SIR!" I exclaim, ducking my head just in time and I stand before the other gunners and loaders in sole underwear clothing.
"Miles… He just overslept." Julian shrugs, holding a yawn.
"Well, Sailor, that doesn’t mean I should be cutting him slack if we all happen to me in friendly terms." Friendly my ass, you moron. I grumble opening the coffin locker, ruffling to get a clean uniform shirt. Friendly terms. You sucked me off, friend. And oddly I realise that the brief sex encounter didn’t even register in my head, I glance at Carlos with his dark circles, who just gives out a small, pressed yet assured smile, before he excuses himself to pass between me and Miles to exit the bunk room.

Everything escalates into an abyss where my head spins from the horrid lack of sleep and physical love. I’m far too in love to be heartbroken and vice versa with the moist blade dunked in salt. Everything seems to be vastly empty, an open space and somehow it’s never ending corners seem to be the taunting thing, which seems to drive me crazy as I already start slowly musing that I should get started on my letter to Jamie and he had mentioned that I could do two letters, one through Brian and one through myself, which he would do. And I recalled how he had said that Brian himself had a sweetheart on shore, but at the beginning he rarely spoke of other sailors who had not just peeked over the edge to feel what it was like to let yourself entirely loose and let those insane thoughts out, let yourself define something which was long stashed somewhere among the lines to remind us that we should all be falling in love with women solely and leaving it at that. And the impossible stance of love seems as irrational as anything ever told through a fairytales’ lips and Jamie seemed far more distant and even if I would lift up said bridal veil, I would still see nothing, I would see the rain and see that my umbrella turned coat turned veil was solely a veil, as if his fingers never threaded through the lace. It felt awful and the sole word was as vague as describing my feeling of love to him, it seemed impossible to wield and describe and now it even seemed more from the feathers of a dream and his kisses further away with every minute and his touch foreign, slipping away into a painful dream which could not even come real, but never come back. And he wouldn’t speak much of Brian besides the fact that he had known just because Jamie had known of Brian’s lover. 

It was something mutual and unspoken and I wondered if I could just go to Brian’s and let myself speak of Jamie, I wondered if he would also have a glass of wine to spare and if somehow I could sink away to shore and the numbness was worse than the longing I thought that I would feel. It seemed to be shattering and confusing, the sole silence is always more painful than a whole cumbersome word. Maybe trying to force yourself to do more was just an outcry of loneliness and desire to hide the lack of love and confusion, ignoring the bloody countdown to some other death turner. 

And all of a sudden the letter of my life seemed to hold a different name.

It seemed as if Spring would have the characteristic of breaking hearts rather than mending them, something among autumn healing and resurrecting, before shattering one’s existence. 

If love were one magic trick, when would the rabbit show up and when would it vanish? And it would there even be a trick at all? And who was the one blinded, the audience or the magician? And how come did all the same thoughts crawl in doubt one love after the other?

I wonder what would even happen to the sailors if we were allowed to roam drunk on the ship.

And I let that thought take me, because sometimes longing for something far away does you no fucking good. But it’s not like I’d even let myself fully immerse in something else anyway, because regardless of anything I knew who I stood under the fucking veil with.

“You didn’t even fucking wake up or even move during the wake up call, Turner!” Miles was still pissed off as I was fully dress to entertain myself with Brian screaming as Jamie or whatever Jamie had told him to do, he had assured me days before that I shouldn’t worry over the fact that I wouldn’t get just like the other sailors cranky speeches, because everyone would just for the sole reason of some fucked up unspoken tradition of everyone in the armed forces getting yelled at and fake at losing individuality, the only individuality we seemed to be losing was our heterosexuality and attraction to women as I would notice over the years. Before it just seemed a few men among yourself then with an untrained eye you’d notice how many men would solely sleep with men and go back to their wives and how many men would dedicate themselves to the sea and seamen.

I wondered on as Miles ranted and I kept apologizing with ‘sir’ on the end, even Julian had left, Thom and Jonny already balancing cigarettes on their fingers, waiting for nothing and leaving me and the Chief Petty Officer alone.

Miles looked at the door and I just stood, fixing my collar for no reason before he had hurled himself at me and I just managed to duck my head down and I felt his hands on my shoulders, my eyes shut enough to give me swirls.

“So you didn’t refuse a blow job, but you’d refuse a fucking kiss?” He asked quietly and I looked up just to feel my insides battle lightly, as I exhaled, wondering if somehow my love had drifted to one longing person to the moment, but alas, shards were there to consider and ponder, because love is a cruel thing, either you forget or you remember as if it were the back of your written hand. 

“You’re the one who started yelling at me.” I snapped and Miles, just shrugged, mumbling that it so happened that I did oversleep and then I snapped my eyes at his next phrase, staring at him, as if bare to the bone.

“Just like Hince would say, fake it to a ridiculous extent, so that no one would think otherwise, the most ridiculous is often the most true.” And I felt my fingers twitch, but I just looked at him, like any dating person would look at a lover’s ex with all the flattering revolving images and all of Jamie’s love talked about in numerous ways for me to understand how deep he had loved and regretted Miles. The gunner notices my look and bites his bottom lip, pulling the skin of his neck. “I’m presuming you’ve heard him say that, then...”

Miles smirks. 

“Hey, I know you guys are fucking, it’s obvious. I’m just surprised Alison doesn’t know or maybe she’s just not telling me. She does think you both are just fucking friends. I mean...” He pauses, gesturing. “Just friends.”

I just keep my silence, holding from doing anything and I wondered if we were even late for Brian’s speech and if he would force us to mop the decks, Hince-style, yet less checking out your ass-style. 

It feels more empty and realizing that there is some other extent of being alone and dissolved in nothing which seems to ache in all the places and looking at Miles makes me feel even lonelier as we both head out and I can see that it would’ve been Jamie yelling and how short he’d be compared to most sailors and how he would establish fear with his fake act, because we’re all scared of all the ridiculous assumptions and card resolutions, because we are scared of the most stupid things which may happen to us. 

And seeing Brian, even shorter, already throwing his cigarette behind him, overboard, ship on full sail and I wonder if this is how he imagines himself in quite a few years, that he would take Jamie’s place or some other ship, but it would be him yelling from his own script and sail the ship and hold the sailors in any way he’d want to, yet what I see is some light fear, before pride takes over him and he gets a deep breath.

“Is this the breath of a true sailor? How much did all of you even drink? Will you even be able to contain yourselves from shooting at each other?! Make sure to sober yourselves enough over breakfast, sailors...” And he is about to turn. “Just like with the Captain, all faggots will be thrown overboard, if it were for me, we would actually do that, but alas America is too damn trusty in homosexuals!”

And that was that, the speech going past me, not even that it wasn’t as impressive and ridiculous as Jamie’s, just that misery makes all happiness bleak. 

How much even should one person long for another? And how much longing should there be involved if it is mutual? And we are dismissed. 

I don’t think time heals wounds, instead you get more lonely and empty, some shallow conclusion of lessons long learnt yet you still go in childish circles. It even feels as if I go faceless, as if I would be staring at a point where my longing starts describing me even more than I even want it to and it always becomes about the person and it’s worse because my mind already longs for Matt and it’s as if I know how to miss another person, how to dial myself up to destroy myself and how to call up loneliness to get drunk. And we seem to be full of spite towards ourselves regardless if it’s longing or looks, I don’t like my longing and at the same time I think I should be thinking more when his touch is the only thing which holds my eyelashes, which makes me even move back and into the canteen, which is filled up with its cluttered noise of men, realizing that I didn’t even wash my face and I wonder when would I even be able, standing in queue, silently, looking in front to spot Miles for no reason rather than his own.

And there’s an infliction of loneliness which accompanies the lack of glancing at Jamie through out the canteen and sometimes I would wonder if he looks back when he holds his book midair and eventually I would notice that he would just look at me slightly yet it would hold enough of hidden to observe properly at times, he would still read though.
Now all of it was gone and seemed the only time where I wouldn’t mind someone to talk to emotionally to let some level of friendship linger even if all the friends have flicked off over the years and I knew that my bond with Matt was held on the fact that I had strictly loved him, because love ends up being the harshest bone to break, because just like you wouldn’t hurt yourself, you wouldn’t hurt someone who you valued above yourself, the beloved becomes like a prayer, always to heal, never to forget. 

There is a level of frustration which goes beyond the fingertips, where I couldn’t do anything but watch events unfold, waiting weeks on end and still with Jamie’s letter to read, but didn’t have the chance, as if saving it for last and maybe so that I wouldn’t be adding tears to the oversleep injury because no proper sleep had been done, just some hibernation to avoid slow time flow and turn it into some painful willing torture.

And with even being open, if I were to openly look back at Jamie, even that may escalate and it becomes an issue, how come even a mere look can damage everything and is it even sinful that I just leave myself on and even ruin people further for the same causes I do, if I were to catch them looking at someone else, I would ruin their lives how mine could’ve been ruined and it becomes a tug-o-war with no prize, but lives at stakes only the fact that mine is, it’s not told. 

The imagery of Jamie is still awfully vivid, as if I were dreaming or maybe watching the world now drowned again from something or maybe he would lay besides me and water becomes air, I don’t even know where love, longing and mistakes even stick, how fast had my love for Miles morphed into something unknown which seems to be racing through my being, confusing me, maybe the last knot to make sure I could suffocate myself in a suicidal matter, but it seems to be too gooey. 

And if I were to give up on Matt just for my own sole stupidity and just charge on Jamie, what would that result me in? Where would all the other love go and is it solely because the excess love I have to merely go nowhere? Is it because I have far too much love to give or because I happen to love many people at the same time?

I just wait in queue and sometimes I recall that Albert would be the sailor handing out food and I just grip my tray tighter, walking through to the canteen which has Carlos talking about something loudly, Miles eased up and eventually I just sit besides him, surprised at the open spot. The latest discussion was a range of potatoes which seemed to be told that they were pumpkin to us first, later progressed onto telling that they are sweet potatoes after all and we all seemed to be musing on whatever they were and discussion went on, if Albert were here, would he able to cook them after all?

The cooks seemed to be struggling and kept trying everything and apparently since we hit the shore, they had given up and we had been given as if an accomplishment for allowing our stomachs take anything our minds wouldn’t, powdered eggs and ketchup which frankly tasted just as bad, but everything seemed to be better than the said potatoes and I wondered if they were just baiting us until someone would just issue a complaint.

I remember back when I was on the other ship, the Captain would complain, but Jamie didn’t, at most he would look at the spoon or fork which contained the food and read two pages, to be immersed before continuing to eating so the current Captain was nowhere near complaining, since he always had some alcohol to resort to. Julian claimed that’s why candy was meant to be eaten, even as a child, since his mother wasn’t the best of cooks, he’d always have candy in the house and he would just eat more of it. Food just stretched into something as if it were hygiene, just something done and on shore it seemed odd that people would go around choosing which meat and the fact that there was a selection seemed odd. I recall when I first came back home, I was just confused at what I had even wanted to eat, as I seemed to be so distant from everything offered besides milkshakes I had gotten with Matt, but it wasn’t as if I would want milkshakes at specific times of the day, it was something I could easily live without, but would treat myself to. 


I had 8.9 written between chapter division solely because it was Nano and I couldn't be bothered and I wanted to get it written rather than thinking on chapter boarders, so Alex's thought will trail on.

I'm also awfully sleepy and I've binged Neon Genesis Evangelion the manga in like… 3 days? That's 14 volumes by the way. I've been either barely watching something or binging, I've went through all of Looking (the tv show) in two days or so. So yeah. Also I can't recall if I mentioned but I watched Full Metal Jacket with Callie which left a deep impression on me, so yeah, I remember Callie commented on that even the Brian speech I was scared wasn't good she pointed that it was good and realistic.

I dunno, I'm in an odd place where I'm content with myself, but I'm content with the world, awfully and I just got sad seeing that the denial of Shinji/Kowaru is much intense than of Anthy/Utena for instance and that annoys and depresses me. It kind of starts feeling like I'm alone and kind of pushes me to write more stuff about gay men really. I dunno, I saw this book list the other day and there were more lesbian novels, which is kind of… you think it's the other way around, really, well, you think it is. I dunno, tables turn and for some fucking reason in your face things are refused. I dunno, no one speak of laws specifically against gay men or that Volkova's speech was directly aimed at gay men for instance. I dunno and it's fucked up because it's like I'm in a different margin just for being trans, so that itself falls under transphobia and tumblr has been making me more distant because I get triggered often and I don't give a shit anymore about many issues, I really don't care about cissexist problems and assumption that only women breastfeed, I can't even read the complaint when I read breastfeeding = woman, I get disgusted and triggered and I stop caring. I won't raise a finger if you won't. It becomes a stupid fight. I dunno, so yeah, that's been putting me down.

I've also been getting more annoyed by Alison, so I've been rather torn from The Kills community because frankly I love her as a part of The Kills and I get revolted by the adoration she gets, all The Kills tags and whatnot is just photos of Alison which I can't give a shit about anymore.

I dunno, I feel like I'm being erased and that my identity is sole, I dunno, so that zones me out.

So yeah, of course reading NGE was a big thing, because it had an amazingly developed love line and y'know what for once, fuck the female characters, I'm fucking tired that people think that female characters are more important than male, that In The Flesh is great because of Jam Walker, I'm honestly tired of that.

What am I doing a backstory on?

A novel about gay men, yup, the trans have yet to come unfortunately, but hey, let's stay on topic, I'm just revolted with the world these days. 

Anyway, to the story. I missed Carlos, I ended up loving him immensely as he developed and I just have some softness towards him and Julian, I'll see where that goes. I'm tired of people shaming sex, so I'll see.

"Moist blade dunked in salt" I like that line, I'm like Ikuhara, I like the bathtub's legs, when there's Mikki and his sister fucking it in. 

…and I got my secret santa to trigger me, great. Anyhow, like I said the world is a hateful place.

Ok, let's try to finish this while shaking, great.

I missed Miles and now he's back and I can pretty much make him be an ass who seems to be in his motives, neck deep.

Ah, at least Brian can give the cheer which Captain Hince would give the sailors.

I was dreading writing this because I felt quite… heartbroken is the wrong word, longing and it's in that stage where you can't do anything besides wait, so that really sucks and fucks me up. But in general I've been happier with myself and everything, I just really hate people online these days, I hate people in general, but yeah.

I guess one of the things which stood out for me, I really pay close attention to conversation to find snippets I can use to do phrases or ideas and Callie had told me how a relative of hers would eat anything coming from the military regardless of how bad it was and that I think was even among the first talks we had like in the first months we knew each other, so that kind of made me make Hince eat anything even if everyone does, but I guess not complaining at all, came from there.

Milkshakes started becoming a metaphor I wonder for what though, the shore? XD The only shore pleasure?

I feel better and I hope you enjoyed it and thank you

Please tell me if you enjoyed it below?



To Miles 47

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