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Stumpin’ 2 pleaze! (at Barton Springs Pool)
Well over a year ago, a strange portion of my brain (one that I’ll never fully comprehend) found solace and affectionate interest in the words of a human dwelling in a decaying Pittsburgh row house. He was a witty lush with seemingly strange eating habits and the ability to lure me in with three sentences written just before dawn that made no sense at all. We discussed possible ways to murder stink bugs and drinking pbr whilst wandering around the city.
I loved his words and thoughts well before I actually met him. Dangerous stuff.
On one of the various mornings when I would be awaken by the smell of cigarettes and get to experience dust flakes somersaulting in sunlight, he played the most cleverly written music that immediately stomped all over what little sleep I had left in my body. I fell in love with him that morning - mostly because of the atmosphere with the dust and the smoke and the damn chickens next door, and, Why? playing through all 4 of his thrifted speakers.
So then I fell in love with someone else’s words. Dangerous stuff, round deux.
It’s beyond difficult to even attempt an explanation of why or how I can have such intense gushy feeling stuff for someone solely based off of their honest thoughts and words and implied emotions. Especially when, in some cases, I’ve never met them. They also tend to be much older than myself (I’m an old soul). So I don’t really say anything. Part of it is possibly due to many of my own secret failures as a person or whatever I claim to be - cat, or homo sapien. Sometimes it’s easier to bond over miserable experiences than favorite kinds of cereal.
Feelings are weird and it can be simpler to say it’s due to intimate sex that happened late at night in shadows and mysterious light from space (the moon forever amazes me). For now I’ll remain severely smitten by Yoni Wolf, who luckily happens to be extremely handsome/desirable.