My Heart Has Gone to Burning Man

It sounds like the name of a song, doesn’t it? Maybe someday it will be.
 

Anyway:

Festivals are wondrous things, and one of their more magical functions is similar to that of a Petri-dish, except that instead of growing bacteria very quickly, they grow relationships (although the rate of growth is similar to that of the more expansive bacteria). Faerieworlds seems to be establishing a pattern of bringing beautiful women (who seem to be attracted to me for some reason) to my attention or vise versa.

When she left, I thought I would dwell on her absence and be saddened. Instead, I find myself wistfully remembering all of the time we spent together, and the things she does that make me smile. Not all the time, of course. Surprisingly, I am a semi-functional person still, if occasionally taken by sudden vacant stares and foolish smiles.

I miss her, but it’s a positive kind of longing—like a tree that continues to grow when the gardener is away.

She gave me a cotton pad filled with the stuff she puts in her hair. It sits on my beside table, and the smell in the wee hours of the morning makes me think that I can just roll over and touch her. In a way, I can. Every time I think of her; every time I invoke a pleasant memory, I feed that tree that I mentioned earlier.

I miss sleeping in company though. I can live without sex for a week (new toy though it is), but my bed is suddenly very, very lonely. Teddy bears just don’t seem to cut it anymore. I’m not going to like the lack of affection either. I don’t know how I managed to survive without it before, but I don’t know if I can again.

I don’t know what to do with myself this week. I don’t really want to spend it puttering around and hitting things with sticks. I was thinking I’d learn to hoop, practice making monkey-fists, do a little light video gaming, hit stuff with sticks, and apparently write soppy LiveJournal entries. However, that’s basically the definition of “puttering around” for this week, so I’m open to suggestions.

True to the universal laws of the universe, the birthday gift I ordered for her arrived Monday. One day too late for her to take to Burning Man. Oh well.

I love her. I miss her. I can’t wait for my Corpse to come home to me.