denny-1's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- fact, fiction or fantasy... I don't know why I do this to myself...but I emailed Mr. Lincoln...see below...and now I have to go home to Neo... I must be a masochist ...this is my drug LOLA ...this is my pill...we all have our drugs...our vice's...or own pills...ROSE ...it's our escape from our realities...we know we are doing ourselves harm...we know this is not the 'best thing for us'...but we do it anyway...we do it...we regret it...then we don't regret what we learned, felt, and found in the process...our journey in life is just that a journey... ...I would rather smell the fresh air from an open window than to never have smelled the roses at all... Ok, ok...I wrote Mr. Lincoln...I can't get out of this one...here it is...here is the dream... The dream started as this systematic play by play of events of the night that we had met at the Hudson...as if it were being viewed on a vhs tape, moving in fast foreword and then being rewound. What seems to be so strange is that I seem to remember this quite vividly...almost to vividly, and I after wonder if in fact what I remember is fact, fiction, or fantasy...meeting you that is...not the dream. So let me start off by replaying this as I still see it... After a night of endless excitement Rose and I returned to the Hudson planning to retire...after some convincing, Rose agreed, "ok, one more," and we headed over to the bar. I remember how packed it was, the green floor casting a strange glow to the place. We wiggled ourselves over to the oversized columns and waited...Honestly, I can't remember what or how things started in conversation, but before I knew it were were chatting away...ROSE was probably already on the make shift dance floor by then. I remember your glasses...they make you look intellectual...not that I doubt that you are...or now think that you're not...but at that moment, I remember thinking this. I drank white wine. Last call... Before long we were smashed in a cab heading to the only joint that allowed more drinks and dancing. 4 Big Black Bouncers... I begged... They let us in... More drinks. Hip Hop Music. His fly was down... We danced, close. You thought, I thought, that I was "all that"...impressions... Last call...last dance. Walking down the street. Pizza, water. I remember talking about...all kinds of things. Opening up to some stranger I just met. I remember sitting on a stoop. I remember getting lost and having to ask the little corner shop, "where are we?" and the flowers that were covered in buckets. I remember loosing Rose and Mr. Open Fly streets ago. I remember holding your hand, laughing. I remember sitting in the empty lobby of the Hudson. I remember getting into the elevator. I remember what I felt when we kissed. I remember getting off of the elevator. I remember feeling you against me, hard. I remember the tall table and the stools, and trying to write my number with my lip liner- MAC... I remember saying good buy...venturing downstairs...opening the door...and then leaving...coming back up the elevator and knocking on your hotel door...thinking...what the hell am I doing... I remember stealing a pillow from a sleeping stranger. I remember lying on an airless mattress in the hall. I remember touching your soft skin...thinking wow...he's got nice muscles. I remember saying, "I have to go" I remember wondering what would have happened if the circumstances were different. I remember telling Mr. Open Fly he needed to leave, I needed to sleep. I remember waking up the next morning hoping to see you before I left. I remember leaving...and wondering. The next night. Hairspray...I wore a dress??...I never wear a dress...Rose and I ate Italian food... ..you called... We meet at the W. Rose had had enough. I stayed. I remember feeling awkward... I remember kissing you again. I remember your eyes. Back to the dream...I must also preface by saying that I'm in the midst of finishing an erotic book. Ok, not really erotic in the 'normal' sense...but erotic in a way that I have to stop myself and seriously ask, "am I all right?". The book deals with a submissive relationship...it begins in a cab where this women is blindfolded and told to remove her undergarments...(I really can't believe I writing this...but it's Friday and what the hell...) The story takes place in France...enough said....the two, This women and her Lover arrive at some distant location. She is taken in a room, stripped and shackled to the wall. She is not tortured in a hurtful since...she never refuses...but she is almost held as a prisoner...just to get an idea...I suggest you go and get the book and decide for yourself...it's called the Story of O...white cover...blah blah blah The dream... I remember lying naked on fresh cut grass...whispering sweet nothings into your ear...ok, gotcha...the dream was a version of all of the above...played back and forth...jumping from scene to scene... ;) 5:10 p.m. - 2004-01-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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