the ugliness of condos with mediocre colors that cannot change the past

When PJ asked me to help move a grill from the condo, i assumed he was retrieving his; turns out he had sold the place, was closing in four days and the last renters left it behind. On his suggestion, we took one last walk around. He experienced many memories there, including sexual escapades that he should never tell his wife, and while i also shared similar escapades mine were not fond. Instead they served to underline that year of being lost, in shock, and having unprotected sex with any woman who'd have me in hopes of catching something fatal, to finish what i had failed to do by my own hand. Alas, HIV is not as ubiquitous as i had thought. So, i resolved to use what had been my temporary home for eleven months as a lesson. i stood in what was my bedroom, and took this:

It is the wall i woke up to each morning for eleven months, with all of my possessions stacked against it, and the photo of ExA with The Land given to me for my 35th birthday. That wall, my trespass, the short sighted view of my marriage are all memories i do not want to forget, for fear of getting that full of myself again.

partnership

Noire has moved in with me. It was entirely my idea, and i surprised even myself when i asked. It happened on St. Patrick's Day. We did not have plans to see each other, but as the day grew long i found myself missing her, as i had the last few days. i had been asking myself, am i at the point where i want to see her everyday? i could not answer- the quick answer was yes, but the hidden, deeply buried answer was not known to me, and i feared that it would make itself known after the wheels chugged forward. So on that day, as i was pondering why i missed her more and more, a text came through letting me know that she would love to join me for a drink if i found myself up that way. Responding quickly, we agreed to meet up. As we sat in an Irish bar on the outskirts of Providence, surrounded by people who had successfully transformed themselves into Irish for the day, the conversation flowed into more serious territory, and the question came out. Truly, i had not know i would say it, and waited for the backlash. There was no backlash, and yesterday she has moved in save a few more items at her old place. i am very happy with our relationship- it exceeds my expectations on many fronts, mostly because she allows me to be me....as time passes, i realize more and more that my marriage suffered form my never knowing where i stood with ExA. And learning to control that voice, the one based in fear, not in life. The one that prodded me to woo a married woman while married, the one that cannot be fed enough.

sweet home

Time with my mother is both sad and interesting. Interesting because her personality has changed to the point where she has become very funny. i guess losing your cognition can do that for a person.

Sad because, well, in spite of how well they are designed, a nursing home is a nursing home. She takes it better than i do, than all of us do, usually not saying anything about it. We prefer to translate that as she doesn't remember her previous life. But there are moments when she remembers all too well, and makes side comments about whether or not we will take her home.

If our homes are our heads, our souls, our hearts, i am not sure hers is anywhere.