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12:56 p.m. - July 18, 2003
A ladder I can call my own, or Give me some tape and scissors
Wrote to Dr. Indy inquiring into complicity factors and child molestation paradigms, a topic I briefly mentioned once a little while ago. I struggled to articulate my thoughts and as you can see, I've still not prevailed.

I just don't get it. While I remember a great deal there are holes and my memories don't seem to be sequential and I don't know what to trust or establish as a baseline, engrave a cornerstone and soon after comes the roof in a tidy package. I remember being at the community pool - so late spring, summer - and pushing a girl into the water, for which a lifeguard made me sit next to his chair for a while. While I sat there - and I vividly recall the light glinting off the water and the sounds and splashes - he materializes and sits by me and I remember rubbing the material of his shorts between my thumb and forefinger and I'm unsure - unsure! - but I think I peeked. But I'm not sure and this frustrates me: I want a black or white, a yes or no, a mea culpa or a mea exculpa.

Something that also bothers me is that I cannot on demand remember his voice though in my dreams I hear him speak, and I wonder if my adult brain is "giving" him words he may have never said, a frequent mechanism by which the brain later interprets and understands input poorly understood from the source. But more importantly I want to know how it started, I want to replace the clearest memory with something new, something less damning to myself. I've written about it before somewhere, about how I walked up his driveway and rang the bell. That image makes me queasy and provides enough cause to say That's all for today and I'm overdue for my own Big Bang where everything burst from nothing.

A timeline, a diorama, a work in progress. Less a chapbook and more Post-It Notes savored over the years, more How to Boil an Egg than Julia Child's The Art of French Cooking. I'm grasping straws because that's all I have and I want the content, I want the context, I want the other c: Communication. I want to absorb and digest rather than play dodge ball with thoughts and memories that are as linear and unchanging as a child's first attempt at drawing a straight line.

Mixed into these musings is sex and Spec and my sexual activities that are escalating in frequency and in concern but I don't know how to address them, don't know where to begin.


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