A swampy blog of uncertainty, mud and mirth.
Weaved together with lyrical reeds of true stories and imagined happenings.
What is, may not. What's not, may be.
Don't fall in.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
A chat with Chris
This could easily be re-named: a chat with Aaron, a side-stroll with Amy, a bumble with Ben, or a mumble with Matthew, although the latter hasn't happened yet; that will happen tomorrow morning, after all and I won't claim to comment yet what hasn't happened.
Growth often happens when the unending chaos and solipsism of the individual ends against the unbending face of another. I've lacked real chats until now. I've chatted with Ben. But that chat started and ended with others. I'm another to him, so incidentally it can lead to me. My chat with Aaron, though drunken as chats with Aaron must be, was all the more revealing because the more he opened his soul and thus the less I felt I held in my hand to play. He doesn't open his soul. Buy him beer he does. He also grabs my nipples, in an odd way to prove he's not gay, but that is an aside you understand.
Chris is and was a blank slate and too young to really read and be read. We hadn't talked for over a year. We may talk before he leaves for England. I'd for so long held the forced conception that I'd invited him once, he came so it was up to him to show initiative and organise something, or else I'd never put effort into trying to re-establish contact. It was great to talk to him. Maybe those rules are meant to be broken. Or else, are those rules meant to be kept for a simple life. I'd be happy without the chat. But what magic "chats" hold.
I'll talk to Matt about growth, about goals, about GROW: Goals, Reality, Options and the What, Where and hoW. Matt is my learning point in particular. How to make the thorny rose grow. He is a Rose. But he has to be held in the right way. He shouldn't want people to dance to help him. It is almost a contradiction that everyone must approach one in ceremonial indirectness to help. But thus.
Don called yesterday. Twice. Locally I'm wanted and needed. At least in the short-term. Don is a simple soul. He wants the best for all. He is confident with a losing hand. Or a winning hand. You only know once you get to the last round of betting.
I'll always win though. I have an ace in hand. My Christy. My unbeatable trump. I'll only hold her, never show her, never let them know how I win.