I have a friend who sometimes tells me it makes her sad that I'm single. Sometimes, it makes me sad in the same way, so I can't feel fully mad when she says it. Other times, I want to tell her about a life suffused in romance. How I love flowers in vases by Frances Palmer. Reading, rereading, rerereading this letter from Ted Hughes. Listening to this song sometimes.
How yesterday, I walked to work thinking the whole way about horses and I barely took in anything else, just thinking of the smell of horses. And those days when I just love my apartment and Toronto, the home I've made from scratch by myself. And objects that become so intertwined with who I am that they no longer seem like material things. Those dogs that look like they got all the awesome parts from a bunch of other dogs. Or when I see an Irish wolfhound and think, you're a wizard, you're a wizard, you're a wizard.
Even the days when work was hard but I did my very best and on the way home, I smile at people and there's something that makes them all smile back and the whole city just feels good. Or using Granny's china. Having a name that makes this my song. Lou and Laurie's love — all theirs and not at all mine, but it still makes me feel so much. The bad movie I watch when I need to cry. The feeling of crying when I need to.
The magic of words on pages, shapes of letters conveying meanings and feelings across time and space and from one mind to another so wholly disconnected and all so ineffable. When my sink is full with flowers. The way I can write a post I'm not sure of, but then somebody emails or DMs and says what I hoped. Old Irish houses, the tragedy of them, the beauty of their tragedy. Making friends laugh, laughing with them. Hugs on demand. Cake, fucksakes!
Thinking of the sea. Thinking of riding horses by the sea. Thinking of rain-wet wool and wild eyes and flushed faces. This poem, again and again... oh, Seamus. The gentle souls and wild souls and lost and lonely souls that have crossed my path. Endless crushes. Roses and rose jam, rosewater, arctic roses and rose tea. Still loving all the people I've ever loved. Forever. That being okay. Even the pain and occasional drunken wishes.
The places I go when I'm asleep that I don't remember when I'm awake, but that colour the world for me. The full moons and the new moons, the wax and wane of it...
You see? - A heart bursting even if I'm alone. And a happy Valentine's Day.