9:30 p.m. - November 03, 2002
Lacuna this
I've lost my Bible and I am not the type to misplace, lose, forget, which simply aggravates further. I've had it for years and this loss makes me winsome and nostalgic, and not just for the days when I never lost things.
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Lesson learned about inviting oneself to visit: Make sure the intended is home, eh?
This will become my mantra, the leitmotif of laughter and you-can't-wear-me-down.
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I want to see Angkor Wat and run my hands over the stones the same way I've touched the menhirs in Bretagne, Notre Dame in Paris, and the Anasazi ruins in the southwest. The kinesthetic is far more real to me than the visual or the aural, though seeing the Nazca plain will likely thrill me more than touching those stones. I want a surfeit of touch, of feeling, and here's a thought, perhaps I touch inanimate objects the way I do to replace or compensate for my lack of human touch? I'm one of those guys who doesn't shake hands readily, one who hugs even less, the one who pushes you away when you initiate contact. I'm like that in intimate relationships as well, but once the ice is broken (does it ever?) I'm all over you.
Well, right now I'm over nobody but I'm finding neglected places on my body to rekindle relationships with, and it does not complain.
Lacunae between me and you, between me and me.
