Presents..."Lover" by Jasmin Williams

"i love the idea of imagining your mine, belonging only to you. your warmth surrounding me like a womb keeping me safe and feeding me all the things you would have me experience. the thought of being in love with you creates a spark inside of my mind that ignites neurons long thought to be inactive, causing new scientific discoveries everyday that i belong to you. bring me back from extinction baby, discover my prehistorics and use them to your advantage. grow me in your heart and be in love with me too."

"no need to imagine baby, i'm here to make you mine; beyond the dreams i have of us when i lay my head down. where our connection's primal; and you and i, bestial. two bodies intertwined... tangled... forged into symbiosis. breathing life into one another every second we remain caught up together. where me in you's as involuntary as our heartbeats, and our movements's just as rhythmic. i can't dream anymore! it's too painful; to know you're mine in my fantasy but i not loving you in reality. belong to me; 'cause you belong with me. love me; 'cause we are love when you're with me. your love is the treasure i'll claim by my life; i stand before you desperate for you to profess to me the same." - me

Writes..."Baby Steps"

me: “...a new beginning begins with me.”
her: “i can’t believe how that just made me smile. if ur lookin for a blush i’ve got one for u:) a new beginning begins with u? i believe that to be true…maybe thas y i’m smiling huh?”

me: “do you really believe a new beginning begins with me?”
her: "i do… it kind of scares me tho”
me: “me too. but i feel like i’m better just knowing you think that.”
her: "good bcuz it’s the truth…”

"i'm not gonna be around forever. i'm not; and i have no qualms about that realization. people tend to take getting older for granted, but i don't; i thank god everyday for another day i'm still breathing. life is transient at best; you get a couple of years and you try not to waste them with trivial bullshit like unnecessary drama from unnecessary people. so i choose not to fuck up my time here. i'm on a mission; my own crusade of getting what i want. and i want her. question? if you found what you were looking for in another in this life, what would prevent you from pursuing them?

"im scared of this thing that we hav going on bcuz its so innocent and pure but i know deep down that we both want to taint it with love sex drama and kids lol! well i do at least...:-)" – her

me: “:) so we are gonna taint this right? lol!”
her: “i hope so lol!”
me: "i’m gonna need you to know so. lol!”
her: “lol!! ok…i know:)”
me: "that’s better."

her: "i wanna take it slow so that we don’t ruin anything"
me: "slow is good. i want you to be sure you want me. :)"

"i'm not gonna be around forever." when i first wrote those words i knew they could be interpreted different ways. one might think i was saying that we're wasting time not being together and i'm not going to spend a lot of time doing what we're doing. i guess someone could take that meaning from my words but that wasn't my intention in writing them; i only meant to point out that my time here on earth is finite and i won't be around forever. i know i want her; i know she wants me; and while there's a happiness that comes in knowing how we feel about one another, i believe there'd be a greater joy in acting on those feelings. i'm scared; and she scared; and because of that we could continue to delay and deny ourselves, perhaps even move on to other people due to the uncertainty of "us", but those things would be mistakes. letting fear determine "our" future would be a mistake. i'm an arrogant man, but i don't think it's an arrogant statement to say nobody has, or ever will, love her the way i do and will. love her harder may be; love her better definitely is. you know what?! fuck it! i'll say both of those things as well. i am that cocky! but me saying them and her believing them aren't the same thing. so i'll ask her...i'll ask her if she considers a word i speak, one lacking substance; or a word i pen, one without meaning; has she deemed words from me to merely be words? i hope not; i've never really been much for talking. i've been called "shy", "quiet", even "antisocial"...and at times i've been all of those things. it's just that i don't like to waste my words or the energy it takes to bring them to life. when i say or write something, i'm exposing my innermost thoughts and feelings to others; sharing a part of myself that i normally wouldn't. and even though i've written and spoken these words before; and even if this isn't something she's trying to hear right now; the truth is: i love her. period. and i won't say that i shouldn't, even if someone might, because i believe in love without limitations; it can't be defined by time or distance. she once said that she was scared of ruining our friendship by adding love and relationship to the mix; and while i can't speak on the "relationship" part without sounding like i possess the optimism of a hopeless romantic (which i am), i know that the "love" between us already exists. and i know that i've never had any problems with basic addition.

me: "when i said i wanted you, you asked me if i was sure. why do you think i wouldn’t be? and are you sure you want me?"
her: "yes i’m sure of what i want i jus want to take things slow bcuz i love our friendship an i jus wanted to make sure that u were sure wen i asked u lol!"
me: "and you want me? :)"
her: "yes:)"
me: ":) i want you too. we can take this slow, i’m not going anywhere. this bond is too important to me to rush us. :)"

but i understand what she's saying, though i see my recent past has given me a different opinion on what to do about "us". we'd wanted to be together but we waited and waited until there wasn't a "we" anymore; and i'm more afraid of that for us than i am of anything else; of losing out because we think we have more time than we do. she believes in fate and destiny; and she's said if something's meant to be you can't lose out. i believe in fate and destiny as well; and that we're meant to be; i just want as much time as i can get with her while we're both still here. "i'm not gonna be around forever" isn't an ultimatum towards our situation, it's the reality of our own mortality. we're born...then we die. and in the time between, we love; sometimes even loving the right person; and sometimes having that love returned equally; but loving nonetheless. if it's true that the things we are attract people to ourselves that have characteristics similar to our own, then believing that we've been drawn together for a purpose far greater than our own comprehension isn't unreasonable. neither is believing that this is our opportunity at loving the right person and having them love you back equally. this is our shot at being loved the way we deserve to be loved. but i won't rush her into an "us". we're already an "us", even if we aren't using a label for our relationship. we're connected in a way beyond friendship; beyond artist and muse. my two greatest assets are my brain and my heart, and she's in synch with both.

her: “lol! i jus watched this movie that reminded me of us..this guy was an artist and he kept callin the girl he was with his muse:)”
me: “you the girl i'm with? ;) hmmm...”
her: “i don't know...lol...u tell me!”
me: “lol! am i the guy you're with? ;)”
her: “well since were takin it slow..i'd hav to say that that's what i'm aiming for…”

"with every word i pen she falls more in love with me; so i'll write until the day she lets me catch her." - me

so if in loving you have to crawl before you walk, i'll take baby steps because what we'll become when we start running is the goal every person strives to attain. i guess in the end it doesn't matter how slow you are at the math, 1 plus 1 will always equal 2; so shouldn't 1/2 plus 1/2 equal what we're supposed to be together?"

Finally Finished..."An Afterthought"

"if a dude is ever a female's number one priority, he loses his position after she graduates high school. if he ever found himself on the same level as her schoolwork or her family or friends, that all changes the second her name was called and she walked across the stage to receive her diploma. and down the totem pole of importance he falls. well, actually up the totem pole; in native american culture, the more important it was, the closer to the bottom it was. the moment she has to start thinking about paying for her education, her priorities shift...then it's school, work, family, friends, stuff, other stuff, dude. wait, does she have kids? then it's kids, school, work, family, friends, stuff, other stuff, dude. which isn't wrong per se, a quality woman places her children above everything else, especially her man. i get that. and i understand it. but honestly, understanding it doesn't mean i like that it's seems like everything and everybody else come before i do. i don't like feeling like an afterthought."


sometime in early '11, just finished today.

Writes..."Pen-Is Is Two Syllables"

"i just want some brain like a fucking cat scan." - lil wayne

"i want to fuck, period. no exclamation point though, there really isn't any urgency in that statement; it's merely a declaration of future intentions. i want it all, everything your body has to offer me. and i'm letting it be known; so please don't think i don't. now that that's out of my system:

"i want her to play with my dick; suck it, it's flaccid
feel it stretch in her mouth; i'm "mr. fantastic"
plies called it "becky", but i'm more polysyllabic
fellatio? yes please; yeah, i'm being sarcastic"

ok, now it's out of my system. period."

Presents..."My 300th Post"

"remember this day, men, for it will be yours for all time." - king leonidas i

"that's it...nothing special for this one. just recognizing it for what it is. 300 posts on the blog. i started march 20, 2010 and today, july 14, 2011, i hit 300."

Presents..."Paths" By Nicole Chavers

"i walk alone
conscious of the paths that bore me
generations of women who left me too soon
left without giving me the directions of what steps to follow
or which ones to avoid
still putting together my journey
in the shadows of their legacy
via hopes, chances and trials.
i stand on sketchy memories
passed down from stories and conclusions.
i walk alone.
i walk alone in the footprints of
husbandless wives
alcoholic vices
suicide
self-medicating
ingenious
stern
handy
devoted
warrior
beautiful
emotional
mothers
partners
daughters
women who were repeated survivors.
and even when i divert from their patterned steps
i breathe their legacy
pieces of them given life through me
i live in the shadows of my history.
emotional living
birthing creative spirit
emotional living
living through years of silent suffering
emotional living
living.
years of sorrow
tears
silent
internal death
has resurrected me into something different
but still very much connected to these women who came before me
resurrecting myself
to finally be born into peace with the life i have been given."

Writes...""F" Words"

"she walks up to where i am standing and wraps herself around me; wanting. there are tears in her eyes, tears that i don't understand, and she's leaving them all over my shirt. her hands on my face, then my chest, her...fuck, man, why am i still doing this? i'm done; i'm putting down my pen. i could continue writing the next part; about her rubbing her ass on my crotch or i can actually use these hands on her hips to keep it there. i choose the latter. no more words, i'm tired of them. so unless they're inked on her body somewhere, i'm done with words. fuck her, err, 'em."

Writes..."Pissin' Blood, Not Excellence"

“i never looked for an invitation from her in the mail but that’s probably because for the longest time i didn’t even know she was getting married. it’s only through us knowing mutual people, and one of those people mentioning it to me that i even know that she had found somebody else after me. but i’m going to the wedding, invited or not; we have unfinished business and there are things i've held on to that i need to get off my chest. so...in a moment reminiscent of the wedding scene in “the graduate”, i profess my undying love to a woman minutes away from promising herself to another. in front of hundreds of their friends and family, some people i know, but most i don’t, i spill my guts, laying the whole damn deck on the table. stuff like how i never stopped loving her and that we’re always and forever. i’m somewhere in the middle of my diatribe when i notice her husband-to-be; dude’s a teapot and steam’s coming out of both ears. i look into his eyes and i can read his thoughts; “today may have started with a wedding but it's gonna end with a funeral”. he’s cracking his knuckles; warming up his fists for my nose and mouth. i had fucked up; bad, and he’s going to make my face "exhibit a" of just how bad. he advances in my direction but she stops him before he can reach the first pew. she’s fighting her tears as retraces the steps she had taken not fifteen minutes earlier, back down the aisle and to the entrance of the church where i am standing, while hundreds of open mouths and confused eyes follow her. she moves deliberately; despite crying uncontrollably with every step. i stand waiting, nervous, as she approaches me because i honestly don’t know how to interpret what i see before me. she’s still weeping; but i can’t tell if it’s because the words i’ve spoken have touched a part of her heart that i still occupy or because maybe, just maybe, i’ve just ruined what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. i feel kinda bad because i can’t read her, not the way i used to be able to, but the deed's done now. the minister made the mistake of asking if anyone objected to the marriage; and while i didn’t actually say “don’t marry him”, the door had been opened and i stepped the fuck through it by telling the multitude of people there how i feel about her. finally, she reaches me and we stand face-to-face for what can only be an instant, but instants between us tend to become frozen, and this seems like another still-life moment, the kind we used to share when we were together. everyone else in the chapel fades away; and in the photograph there’s no fiancé, no preacher, no 4-piece orchestra, no three-year-old prospecting for gold in his nose as his mother walks him down the aisle with the ring; only we remain and only heartbeats can be heard. once again, she and i are together. me, bummy; dressed in a wrinkled black “dickies” shirt and pants. her, stunning; in a white “vera wang” gown, strapless, with thousands of beads adorning it. her dream dress was a five-figure dress; her veil, four; and i look like i just got off work at a meat plant or a box store. she’s beautiful, even more so than the vision of her i used to have where we were the ones promising ourselves to one another before god. but that was a dream from a past life. langston hughes once asked, “what happens to a dream deferred?”; and i guess my answer would be “this scene from “jerry springer” you’re witnessing right now langston.” we put off loving one another for so long that we moved on to loving other people. and having never gotten closure on “us”, one final, desperate attempt at regaining what we once had was inevitable. anyway, as we stand face-to-face, the seriousness of the situation brings to me back to the reality before me. i notice that her tears have smeared makeup that at one time had been flawless and i feel ashamed because of it. she reaches out to me, pulling me close enough that our foreheads touch for a moment. then she whispers something inaudible into my ear. i’m still trying to figure out what she said when she takes a step back from me, cocking her hand back behind her as far as she can; she’s looking for maximum impact when her fingers hit my face. she slaps the shit out of me, i literally have her fingerprints embedded into the skin of my cheek. and as i’m recovering from the sting of it, i fail to notice that her dude hasn’t stayed where he had been earlier. he’s advanced on me and before i can bring my hand to rub the pain away, he hits me with a two-piece; a cross to the mouth and a hook to the gut. i double over, blood dripping down from my mouth, onto my chin, and then pooling on the carpet. he moves in to finish me off with a knockout blow and this time she doesn't even attempt to stop him. i look at her looking at me and i see disconnect in her eyes; and i realize what it is: there's no me in her anymore. if i was looking for closure, then her allowing this ass-whooping to take place is the ending to the story we'd left incomplete. and there's pain in knowing that, a far greater pain than the beating i've received. he's prepared to hit me again as i manage to pull myself to my knees. i'm leaned back, laughing; the bloodiest, toothiest smile on my face. "what the fuck you smiling for nigga? fuck you nigga!" he lines me up and fires another right at my jaw. then another. but i can't stop laughing. i'm getting my ass kicked, in a church no less, and this shit is hilarious to me; which pisses him off royally. "fuck you bitch!"; and in an instant he's snatched me up by the collar. "nigga, you a crazy mufucka!"; i'm still smiling as i spit more blood onto the floor. two more shots, both to the jaw, and he drops me for a final time. he's still shaking his head as she comes closer to where we are. i'm curled up in the fetal position, bleeding; he's over me and she's moved next to my crumpled body. grabbing the ends of her dress to keep them from getting ruined by my blood, she bends down over me and whispers more inaudible somethings into my ear. then she gets up, takes her man by the arm, and starts to walk away...well, she is walking away until she turns around to come back and kick me in the groin. ahh...closure; fitting, 'cause nothing says we're over like a kick to the groin. i stop smiling then; i always say i "piss excellence" but i'm pretty sure i won't be pissing anything but blood for a while."

Writes..."Fallen"

"dreaming is hell; so i don't dream about touching her anymore. honestly, i don't. the thought that i can't touch her in the real world is torture enough; to awaken from doing so is a punishment both cruel and unusual. the feel of her, heaven; and angels have fallen for far less. when i fell, i fell for her; for the places on her body my fingers dare to tread. men have claimed paradise to lie somewhere above the clouds, but i know it to be within my reach. and that bliss sustains me while she's not with me."

Presents..."To Where You Are" by Josh Groban

"who can say for certain?
maybe you're still here
i feel you all around me
your memories so clear

deep in the stillness
i can hear you speak
you're still an inspiration
can it be

that you are my forever love
and you are watching over me from up above?

fly me up to where you are
beyond the distant star
i wish upon tonight
to see you smile

if only for awhile
to know you're there
a breath away's not far
to where you are

are you gently sleeping
here inside my dream?
and isn't faith believing?
all power can't be seen

as my heart holds you
just one beat away
i cherish all you gave me
everyday

'cause you are my forever love
watching me from up above
and i believe that angels breathe
and that love will live on and never leave

fly me up to where you are
beyond the distant star
i wish upon tonight
to see you smile

if only for awhile
to know you're there
a breath away's not far
to where you are

i know you're there
a breath away's not far
to where you are"

one of my new favorites...

Writes..."Remarkably Remarkable"

me: "we are remarkably similar."
her: "dont i know it! im glad u used the word 'remarkable'"
me: "why? i tend to use that word a lot when i'm talking about you."
her: "cuz i think it describes us perfectly...."

"it's funny, we use the same word to describe our relationship, our feelings and each other. ever since i wrote that i thought she had been "remarkable beautiful" when we were younger, that word, or some variation of it, has become a staple in our conversations...

her: "i know you've probably heard this before but your brain is remarkable tensai :-)"

her: "u are hands down and quite possibly the most remarkable and talented person that i know..."

me: "you flatter me... you truly are a remarkable woman."

her: "i mean everything u write is "great"! its genius! everything is remarkable how cud it get any better?"

and in my writing...

"i remember when we were younger; seeing her and thinking that she was a beautiful girl, remarkably beautiful in fact, and nothing's changed except now she's a beautiful woman. she's still remarkable and she's about to find out that i've thought so for a long time."

"everybody who's just looking at her face or staring at her body, is sleeping on the things that make her truly remarkable."

"i understand the very core of what makes her up, even when the thing that truly makes her remarkable, her soul, is lost on everyone else."

"...that i think i see her for more than most; and that i realize she's a truly remarkable woman."

the day i decided i wanted her to be mine, i knew i wanted her to be mine forever...

i look at myself in he mirror and i see black on black, which isn't surprising because i like black, so i wear it a lot. today it's a solid black knit long-sleeved "southpole" shirt, the logo on the left chest, over a solid black "southpole" t-shirt; some faded black "southpole" jeans and a pair of black "timberland" boots with the same matching white stitching as the jeans. like i said, i like black. my hair's short, naturally curly, but not long enough to actually be curly now; it's only brush fade length, with a beard's that tapered and low. wire frames and a silver "bulova" watch complete the grownup look. got the smell-good on; it's "cool water" for me; has been since i was stealing it from my brother as a teenager. i'm clean; about as clean as i can get and i am ready...

tick… tick… tick… i glance over at my watch and realize that it is time to put down the pen; the “bulova” says “time to start living o’clock”. there are no more words to write…only a life to begin and i now know that living begins with her. i grab my phone and dial her number. “brr-ing…brr-ing…'hey, how are you?'”; and just like that, the future i want begins with a “hey, how are you?”.

the conversation flows like it always does: we talk, we laugh, we even shed a few tears. and we fall in love…because sometimes it’s just that easy. why can’t it be that easy for two remarkably remarkable people? i ask myself: if it’s wrong to tell someone you love them when you don’t, then how is not telling someone you love them when you do any less wrong? i can’t pretend i don’t love her and there wouldn’t be much point in denying that i do.

i ask her if she will come over. i want to see her; to experience a moment or two in her presence. “anything for you”; she’s said that to me more than once and if i were a smarter man i might read something into that. but i’m not really smart, at least not people smart; my ears hear her words but my brain's never processed what she says to me. she agrees to, and within the hour we are hand-in-hand walking towards our special place; a little bridge overlooking a stream i had showed her the first time she had come to visit me. it is special because it was the place where we first shared our feelings for one another face-to-face; the spot where we shared our first kiss; and it was where i pulled out a rolled-up a piece of paper, manipulated the way we used to when we were younger; a long thin strip shaped into a circle and folded over to fake a diamond. and voila, i had my own pseudo-engagement ring. and with it, on bended knee in black "southpole" jeans, i ask her to spend the rest of her life with me.

...i wanted her to be mine forever...

and nothing's more remarkable than her wanting that too."

Writes..."Brian In Real Life...IV"

"it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that i really only write about me and the things that i'm going through. i mean, like the situations in my posts are either things i've experienced personally or my perspective on what did, may or could have happened in those situations. i guess my point is, to read my blog posts is to know who i am and what i'm about as a person. what i write is insight into the real "brian wilson", based on the daily events of my life. for those who are interested, it's brian in real life...

and in real life every time someone asks me what i'm looking for in a woman, and believe me people ask a lot, maybe it's because i'm thirty-one and single or because they know that i want someone to share my life with, i tell them all the same thing. when they want to know if i like them tall, or light-skinned, or thick, i say one thing: "she's gotta be smart". and then they ask, "you smart?"; like i know what that means. what is "me smart"? am i even "me smart"? smart like "my iq's 155" smart? smart like "i can recall a lot of seemingly useless stuff" smart? or smart like "i quote oscar wilde...all the time" smart? i guess if those things are criteria of being "me smart" then i am "me smart"; but i'm not saying the woman i end up with has to match me in those aspects in order for us to be together. there aren't many people like me out there and to be honest, coupling with someone who does the exactly same things i do intellectually would probably be a little boring at first, and then, annoying. let's just say i want a woman who isn't complacent with what she already knows and has an open mind to learning new things; plus, she can offer me insight into subjects i have little knowledge about. because as smart as i am, i don't know everything.

i remember having such a conversation with my mother in 1999. when i was growing up we never really talked about girls or relationships, so i don't even think she knew what i looked for in a woman. she probably knew when i liked someone but probably never why i did. i don't know if i had an established profile for what i was looking for then.; in fact, i still don't have one. tall, short, skinny, thick, light, dark; the only constant between me and women has been stimulating conversation. my thinking's always been if you don't have anything intelligent to say, we don't need to be talking; and that still rings true.

my mother and i had been discussing this situation concerning me and a fellow employee at the nursing home i worked for; about how she liked me and how i wasn't seeing the obvious signs she was putting in front of my face. i don't know, i probably saw them, but at 19 i was still in my "i'm not really feeling you like that but i won't tell you" stage of my life (hopefully that's only a stage, that remains to be seen). i mean she was cool and a good person and all, but she wasn't for me. i mean, other than her liking me and me liking me, we didn't have very much in common. she definitely wasn't "me smart", i don't even think she was "100 smart"; and knowing that was keeping us apart, despite her appealing qualities. when we talked there was never any depth to our conversations, never any culture to our encounters. she was good with what she was and i needed more than what she could offer me. still do.

she's gotta be smart. not "me smart", just "i don't want to blow my brains out when i'm talking to her" smart."

“smart women love smart men more than smart men love smart women.” - natalie portman

"you may be right about that queen amidala, but not more than this man."

Writes..."V Is For Vivaldi" (The "The 'B5'" Re-Write)

“most people are other people. their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry. their passions a quotation.” – oscar wilde

"we all think we’re individuals, with our own individual thoughts and ways but we’re not. and while everyone says they desire snowflake originality, the truth is most people are merely photocopies of another snowflake they think they really want to be. they’re afraid to have their own design; afraid to be unique. they'd rather be one of the crowd. conform to what everyone else is doing. be like everyone else because different is bad. different is bad. bad...

“y are people so scared to be different? i havent been to alot of different places but ive never been scared to be me or to be different.” - myūzu

me either. i'm different; known that as long as i’ve known anything. i've sat here at the “mansion” and come to accept the fact that my mutant power isn’t invisibility or superhuman strength. i can’t move things with my mind or read people’s thoughts. yet i call myself an “x-man”; though it’s only because i’m e"x"ceptional at being me. and "me" isn't like anyone else. i'm not normal, no, i'm not the norm. i'm not a stereotype. i'm not what you would expect. i love vivaldi; have since i heard “the four seasons” for the first time; well, i think it was actually the 3rd “summer” movement that got me hooked on his work. and people knock me for it but it’s who i am and i don’t apologize for it…

“antonio lucio vivaldi (march 4, 1678 – july 28, 1741), was an italian baroque composer, priest, and virtuoso violinist.”

the first movement of “la primavera - concerto no. 1 in e major, op. 8, rv 269” is playing in the background as i snap the clasp of my silver “kenneth cole” watch; i’ve been preparing for this evening, both in my appearance and my mindset. i walk over to the mirror and give myself a thorough once-over; navy, silver pinstriped three piece suit, white shirt, solid silver tie. i’m smart and i don’t mean when it comes to books; i'm clean; about as clean as i can get and i am ready to go. it’s 7 o’clock and we need to be on our way. tonight, we're going to a vivaldi tribute; and as blessed as i feel to be able to afford the luxury of going to this concert, i’m equally as blessed that isn’t something i had to beg my girl to accompany me to. when i told her i was getting the tickets, her only response was when is it and what do i have in my closet to wear to it. she was genuinely excited for it and i was pleased that she was. i’ve always considered myself extremely fortunate that we share an affinity for the arts and that affinity is one of the things that made me fall for her.

tonight is special though because it is vivaldi. i remember when we first starting really getting to know one another; she'd asked me to tell her about myself and i’d mentioned that i wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met before: that i liked listening to vivaldi, reading voltaire and paintings by van gogh. and she responded by saying that i was going to make her have to look up vivaldi. it’s crazy, i can’t really put into words just how much i appreciated her saying that. the thought of her being interested in something that i think sets me apart from everyone else i know, and probably everyone she knows, means more to me than she could ever imagine. and i like the fact that she now knows about vivaldi because i introduced him to her; but i love that her wanting to know about vivaldi didn't have anything to do with me. the desire to increase her exposure to things of culture was already in her, like it's already in me, and that aspect of ourselves drew us together.

i'm still in front of the mirror when i notice her standing behind me in its reflection. she’s stunning in a strapless navy “badgley mischka” dress that hugs every contour of her body; a goddess in satin, sequins and lace. and i ask myself what i, a mere mortal, have done to deserve to have such divinity in my life. when i were younger, and had determined what i wanted to find in a woman as a potential wife or girlfriend or whatever, i came up with the term "the ‘b5’". 5 words that started with the letter "b" that i felt were the perfect criteria for an ideal partner; 5 equal parts that made up the person i felt i could spend the rest of my life with. i used to joke that if a woman had the “b5” (brains, beauty, body, bible and beethoven), she would get a sixth “b”: brian (that’s me). and she did; despite our own skepticism in the beginning…

her: “and u know that the cocky side of (her name)...thinks that she has the 5 b's....cmon now lol…now the 6th one?? she may never get becuz he's such a sceptic....but so is she so it works out fine lol”

me: “why do you think i'm a skeptic?“

her: “i think ur a skeptic becuz u think more than u live and im guilty of the same thing. you'll think yourself out of happiness or anything new or exciting in your life (things that u deserve) becuz u play the whole thing out in your head but u dont take the chance of just playing it out in real life…for better or for worse it makes us both.....(chicken)”

me: “i want to be a smartass and say something sarcastic but the truth is everything you just said is spot on. that's what i do and i'm a (chicken) for it. (crying face)”

her: "lmao!!! awww don’t (crying face).......i know it becuz i am it.”

but eventually we both came to realize that as we’d never be what we could be if we didn’t take a chance on “us”…

her: “u dont think that wud mess up the nice lil friendship that we hav goin on??“

me: “i'd like to think that what we have would enhance anything more between us.“

her: “i guess u cud be rite..... but its safe here.....no heartache no pain”

me: “no being as happy as you can be.”

her: “.....wow .....yeah ur rite abt that”

yeah, i was right about that. right that she would never know a greater happiness than she would by being with me. right when i told i’d love her with a passion that even she never imagined experiencing for herself. but mostly, i was right about “us”; that the day i decided i wanted her to be mine, i knew i wanted her to be mine forever and that I knew this thing between would last as long.

the “b5”; brains, beauty, body, bible and beethoven; the things i’m looking for in another. and while i could elaborate and go into more detail on each one; i could say, "sure, she's a beautiful woman"; or "she does has a ridiculous body"; and i don't mean for either of those comments to sound dismissive, like my attraction to her didn't have anything to do with what she looks like because her appearance did play some part in me wanting to be with her. but the truth is, she's so much more than that. or i could write “bible means she has to believe in god…something something; or beethoven means she has to have a love for of the arts…something something”. but the truth is, i’ve come to realize that the “b5” are as much about me and what i am as they are about what i’ve been looking for in a woman. i’m smart (kinda; iq’s 155), handsome (i’ve been told that a couple times), and fit (maybe; no smartass comment here except i did get a little out of breath writing that). i believe in spirituality, opera, theatre and museums. it appears to me that the purpose of the “b5” was merely to serve as a list of characteristics discovered in myself to look for in someone else. i guess in essence what i’m saying is i was seeking to find myself in another individual. and i did when i found her.

"when i talk to u i feel like im talkin to myself in the mirror” – her

and at this moment, it’s actually her in the mirror talking to me.”

“a goddess to all, in egypt or rome
greece too, she’s beauty, her face and her heart
like botticelli’s aphrodite in foam
she’s a masterpiece; a real work of art

poets write of her, those greater than me
more skilled with the use of a quill and a word
penning lovely prose of what they doth see
one that inspires; a title conferred

a muse to me, my feelings of passion
in describing her essence and all that she is
i “armani” words, that means i fashion
thoughts of us loving; dido and aeneus”

- me...on her

"i thought "b5" = me but it really equals "us".

by the way, if “b” was a variable that i was solving for in the equation “b to the 5th power = ”b” (b^5=b), then “b” would equal 1, 0 or -1. man, i am such a nerd!!!”

Writes..."Nicole Simpson Can't Rap...And Neither Can I...X"

"i'm so into her, she's named her fingers after me
look at the middle, my name's inked down the side
'cause my touch's on her mind, as if permanently
i'm so into her when i put them inside"

again, all apologies to "real" rappers, i'm still just fucking around.

Finally Finished..."Purgatory"

"in an evaluation of my own relationship with you, i've come to realize that we don't really have defined roles. so i wonder "what are we?" the obvious answer is that we're friends. i know that. you know that. but when we talk, there always seems to be something left unsaid, some secret thing that we hide from one another. as if holding back the feelings we have, we're only denying ourselves the opportunity of being more."

sometime in '00 or '01, was writing on loose sheets of paper and wasn't dating them. just finished today.

Finally Finished..."I Like You"

"in taking some advice on my situation, i decided to be totally honest with myself about how i feel about her. totally honest. the advice was, "ask yourself why you like this person. it shouldn't be 'just because'." meaning i should have some substance to the feelings i have for her. not just that i like the way she looks or how she smells. that my desire isn't based on something i can't explain; some inexplicable phenomenon has captured my heart, leaving me unable to put how i feel into words. or even know why i feel this way. it's weird when you feel a certain way or you've taken a specific position on something but never realized why you've chosen to do so. to be unaware of why you've formed a personal opinion that affects your life, that you live by. that is weird. i like her. i've liked her for a long time now. but i don't remember ever thinking about why i like her, or at least, acknowledging the reasons to myself. and in not doing so, the reasons i like her have taken on the feel of a "just because" and that's not good enough. i like her just because...isn't acceptable. "just because" is a slap in the face to my feelings and to my desire for her. they both deserve more credence than that. i don't just feel something for her. i know why i like her. and i know what i like about her."

sometime in '00 or '01, was writing on loose sheets of paper and wasn't dating them. just finished today.

Finally Finished..."Gut-Spilling"

"i sabotage myself. i fuck up my hair, wear wrinkled clothes; i make myself as unappealing as i can. i scowl, i ignore, i dismiss, all in order to keep myself as alienated from females as i possibly can. the saddest truth is that while i love them, and i do love them, i'm probably as scared of them now as i've ever been. i worry. and it's not even that i think i'm not good enough for any particular female. i mean, i know i have qualities that attract women. it's more that i think i may not be good enough for a woman. so i don't make any efforts towards them. thus i sit here, angry at people who've found other people and people who try to find people, but mostly i'm angry at myself. because i'm aware of what i'm doing and yet i won't change. i can see the pattern of behavior repeating itself over and over and while i'm content with that, i haven't been frustrated enough to stop it either. truthfully, i look back and i see i've only had one kind of relationship. it's like i seek out the most unattainable girl i can find and allow her to dictate us with her "maybes" and her "i don't knows" and her "let me think abouts..." and instead of me telling every girl that's said she had to weigh over my pitch to "eat shit and die", i would be waiting for her answer, blowing off other girls who may have had feelings for me. people have asked if i like the challenge, they wonder why i make finding a woman so difficult. i wonder too. but i know that every female i've ever wanted has come with serious obstacles between us. "i liked her, she had a dude." "i liked her, she doesn't know what she wanted." "i liked her, she liked pissing me off." "i liked her, she lived a hundred miles away." maybe i think challenges are more rewarding . when i like somebody though, i can't focus on trying to be with other people. i only think about being with them, which is the most fucked-up part. they're doing whatever they do and i'm beating the shit out of myself, like by being faithful to them. but the fuck can you be faithful to someone you're not in a relationship with? "being faithful" implies commitment by both parties, doesn't it? writing this is making me upset. i'm dropping more 4-letter bombs than i care to. i guess admitting the truth to yourself makes you drop 4-letter bombs."

sometime in '00 or '01, was writing on loose sheets of paper and wasn't dating them. just finished today.