romance undercover

friday 2 july 2010, turners falling


Yes, it's about 1:00 pm and I'm computering here in Turners. But earlier I was in good old Gruenefeld, computering away there. Had a surprise waiting for me on the sidewalk as I approached the library in that other town.

And the surprise led to panic, and sadness, and the old trying to write as much of it as I could out of my system on a blog post.

This Matthew Lacoy, who used to say he loved me (and maybe, in his own completely unacceptable way, he does) was the surprise on the sidewalk, there on the sidewalk doing parts of what is his job. I have seen these undercover antics so many times before, and when I saw him there with one of his colleagues, both waiting for me and doing the pacing-smoking dance, which Matthew alone must do wearing a heavy winter parka fit for a blizzard, there I saw that in this sick-club way, he was telling things to me, as well as to others around u. To me he was saying: it's a bad day, and I myself have come down here to this sidewalk to take charge, and to speak to you, and to impart to you with various elements of body language that you learned two years ago, that today is a bad day.

He spoke to me twice, and looked into my eyes, as is often his way, and waited for an answer. He didn't get one. There's no point saying things to him that I've already said, things he either refuses to understand or really doesn't understand because he doesn't have Asperger's, and I do; or because his way of being in the world is so ego-driven and mine is much more soul-driven.

So, here's the post I wrote there in Gruenefield to try organize the great caldron of feelings that arise in me every time I see Matthew Lacoy.

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read... Sehnen... Braon...

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