03/24/2012 Letter 2 a People


RB: And how about the first time I saw you; I was in a truck with the wind blowing through the two windows, it was cutting us in half, it felt like or at the very least we knew it was giving me allot of knots in my hair. MT: Yup. RB: You were saying something about dust devils and uncomfortable concrete benches, I was wondering if I remembered to bring my swimsuit. MT. OK. RB: I was thinking about a snack and you were like What About Some Date Pudding? MT: "___" RB: I lived in a haunted bedroom for two months- MT: -Who told you it was haunted- RB: -Daeryl Holzer told Alex and she told me later when I gave her a haircut. MT: Could you tell? RB: I felt sweaty at night and slept with the windows locked because I felt scared.  Looking back I guess I was just keeping the ghost in with me, that was my impulse? I felt like I had to?  It made me write a book on a stringent timeline. MT: To Each His Own (motivator). RB: I rode my bike around and people let me in to their kitchens, that's where we fell in love while I gave them a trim or a cut, whatever they told me they wanted.  I left feeling shaky, usually that's when I went to the Town and Country gas station to get a large styrofoam cup of ice-filled Dr. Pepper.  Rode home clutching it and my handlebars all squinty into the sun and/or wind but feeling like All Of Us Were Flying. MT: That's pretty Emo. RB: It feels good to be back.  There's an Old Man Ghost in my house here, my boyfriend keeps telling me he isn't there but I feel him every night when I'm lying there waiting to fall asleep.  It's OK, I was scared at first, but now, I realize that he's a pretty nice guy.  He gave me an idea for my salon here, it's basically going to be about the color Pink. MT: White got kicked out? RB: White where it's rainy, Pink where it's windy. MT: Maybe that ghost was Josef Albers in his past life? Your pants are so dirty they are grey with tan streaks instead of denim.  That happened last time too, except they were shorts. RB: What's most important here, with what I'm trying to explain, is that I re-remembered about how breathless I feel when People Look At Me.  I see them and I see what they looked like before they were babies; it feels that way?  I see them as soft and without bodies, just as, like, oh the Sweetest feeling of Light.  Their gaze, their Gaze, is the point of contact between my Light and theirs.  It feels like I got punched in the stomach by a kitten every time I look at anybody, these days. Tenebrae (from Love is Real)