I'm in love

22^nd November 2012

Poets may pine for it, sanity is sacrificed in its name and songs lament or celebrate its undeniable power. How can I come fresh to the topic of romantic love? Perhaps I can’t, yet of course I want to say this one is somehow set apart.

I am newly in love. Brand new, the key in hand. He is kind. He is funny. I mean, really funny. He has the most beautiful voice and this slow and soothing way of speaking. His eyes drew me in from the start, and yes, his nose is magnificent! He continues to give amazing compliments, and this generosity helps me to relax and give to him in a way that I’ve wanted to give for such a long time.

I can be free in how I love. I don’t have to wonder if showing too much kindness or enthusiasm will be received with some kind of disdain or taken for granted. Of course I’ve had moments of fear and anxiety, yet those moments have been used as an alchemical process. We’re richer for it. Where one man might flee or resort to games and cruelty, this man instead holds my gaze and talks with me. He stands steady.

This is just a quick note on this ‘in love-ness’. I’m busy in a way that I’ve been finding really difficult, but accomplishing a lot. Last night when I got home, I hopped into bed and pretended I’d been sleeping all day. I imagined the reason I was so tired was because I’d stayed in bed for so long. Talk about self-hypnosis! Within 15 minutes I had that lovely lazy sleeping in feeling and felt really refreshed. I was able to get up and even make a healthy dinner. I went all crazy raw vegetable woman orientated! The fact that the stove is dodgy as fuckery helps. I imagine fuckery is dodgier that fuck.

It’s time to head out the door, off to Henderson to teach my dear ladies some English (among other things!). Yesterday we talked about different suburbs in Auckland and what they’re like, since once they leave the safe house they have to find somewhere to live. We ended up having a good conversation about gangs. One of my students said “they’re nice aren't they?”.

I said it might depend on the gang and the age of the members. Older gang members who now have grand children start to see things in a different light. There are Mongrel Mob members who might have mellowed out, but generally speaking you probably don’t want to live next door to a gang headquarters.

Friday 23^rd November

My Love is working over most of this weekend. We don’t get to see much of each other because he lives much further away than is entirely reasonable. I’m trying to clean and sort things out as I’m eventually moving, but I’m going to put a lot of things in storage so that I can clear out my cluttered mind.

I’ve not been able to catch up with friends properly for ages, but I did manage to get to Lou’s birthday in Devonport last weekend. My Love came with me, and we enjoyed a great bbq and visit before we headed off to see bands playing at Lucha Lounge in Newmarket. It’s the first time I’d seen Frankie play in many years, and her last gig as part of Bunnyjack. She is an accomplished guitarist and singer, her voice strikes the magical tension between fragility and strength.

 I really enjoyed it, but unfortunately I had a shitter of a headache and towards the end of the show (when Vessel were playing) I was struggling. My Love and I are both overcoming problems with our necks and shoulders.  Hearing people whine about pain isn’t particularly entertaining, but if you’re the one in pain, a bit of empathy (and a hottie) sure help. Oh, and I mean a hot water bottle, but an actual hottie (a desirable human) definitely assists in the healing process.

The sun has finally been shining. I turned 42 on the 16^th of November and was treated to a fancy pants lunch by mum (pork belly at Y Not on the waterfront: lacklustre service but good meal), and then a kissy moo dinner with My Love. What do I call him other than My Love? Love Man? The Music Magician? The Meowser Houser?

My Love took me to Cibo in Parnell. I’d read about it and decided that I wanted to go to a really swish sounding place. The waiters are like myriad gay sharks dressed in black, smiles practiced and plastic. They performed a perfect dance of service; the dress rehearsal for something much bigger in all of their lives. We enjoyed observing these things, and the food was like small works of art, delicious and delicate. When we got home he gave me the earrings we’d seen in Jet Set Bohemian the previous weekend. Earrings I love so much that I’ve not wanted to take them out, even when I go to sleep.

I’m in love. I'm in love. I'm in love.