Enid Lovely’s blog

I need to say something about this. Yesterday, the most scientifically sound study conducted yet estimated that around 600,000 Iraqis have died since we invaded. It was conducted by Johns Hopkins University and funded by MIT. Experts in research and public health say the methodology is the best available in these circumstances. Yet everyone who finds this news inconvenient (president bush, the australian pm, our u.s. sanctioned iraqi politicians etc.) is pretending that the study is not sound. This is a complete lie. THE STUDY IS AS ACCURATE AS WE CAN GET AT THIS POINT.

Dream: I had this long elaborate dream during the second half of the night. I woke up per usual at 3am and read the book of 1 John, then went back to sleep. More about that later. Anyway, the dream takes place in a specific rural setting, quite out of the way. I begin as an adult. I'm trying to have a life with a man (not a person from real life). I don't remember too much about him except he is a little older. I arrange for a new shower to be placed in a field to give us a semblance of privacy because I want an uninterrupted hot sexual experience with him. So, we're in the shower away from people and we're doing what we do. Kissing and fondling and groping. I have his cock in my hand and I want him so bad, want him to take me from behind while we're standing in the shower. I'm dying to get him inside me, and then, I blurt out Russell's full name, the way I used to do, affectionately. Well, for a split second, I thought about pretending it didn't happen, but I knew that wouldn't fly. So, everything stopped. There was a dreadful silence. I crumpled down on him and sorrowfully apologized. He accepted the apology, but the mood was destroyed. We decided to get back to whatever we had been doing before. I guess we continued with our life... Later I dreamt I was a teenage girl who had traveled back in time to the 1930's. I walked up to a brick house with a porch on the second floor. I told the woman it seemed familiar to me. I was looking for it. I moved in and became part of the family. At the same time, I was my older self, reading a prize-winning young adult novel that I'd missed when I was younger. In the novel, the story was the girl traveling through time etc. So, I was both the reader and the protagonist. The girl was from the 1970's and could remember her bedroom at home decorated in it's psychedelic manner (Hendrix, incence, homemade candles, etc.), but she lived in this 30's home for long enough to almost forget her other life. I think five years. There was a family. And then she was taken way back to the 1600s and she was a swedish woman (the novel switched to this swedishesque english). Then she was an infant, then grown and giving birth. This early existence was not so pleasant, although not terribly unpleasant, although a lot of work. The status of women was distinctly lower. Her husband expressed this in a not unkind way. Then she/I moved into the 19th C., and was back at that brick house, except this time she was part of a large and prosperous family. The gentleman father had enough disposable income to add on to the house to make a very large home with a yellow wraparound porch around the second story. There was a graceful, sturdy, if steep, ladder/stairway down from the second floor. There were workmen doing various things at times. There was a lot of activity and pretty dresses. Then I was in the 80's. I was a younger sister to a teenage brother. He was going to accidentally start a fire and I knew it (because of my time travel). He was trying to burn lemongrass essential oil on the stove to mask his marjuana use. There was no pan or the pan was overflowing with flammable materials. I told him there would be a fire, but he didn't care and went ahead. He turned on the stove on and I turned it off and back and forth until I gave up and just waited. Then it flamed up and we were all action. I took the puppies into the yard, where it started to pour. I took two big fish into the yard where they were able to swim in the giant puddles. There was a baby which went to the yard. We told everyone to sleep despite the rain. There were little spontaneous fires here and there.

I've been having such a hard time waking up in the morning that last night after work I stopped at the Salvation Army and bought an automatic coffee machine to put in my bedroom. $5 and I was on my way toward the unspeakable luxury of having coffee brewed next to my bed. I also found some lovely Russel Wright dishes, pale pink and oyster. Of course I don't need dishes. I don't need anything really. That's the problem with our society. We're saturated. Not only do we have everything we need, but we have the most wonderful things. Something happened during the nineties, the market was flooded with luxury items, exquisite handmade stuff, treasures for cheap. Must have been China entering the marketplace. Now it's common to see 600 thread count sheets for cheap on the web and in outlet stores. Previously, one had to pay thousands for a set like that and it was unheard of for the average person to even know they existed. I'm trying to cut down on my possessions. I've given most things (including most of my coffee makers) away---anything I'm not using or doesn't have sentimental value. So, I have cut down on much. But lately I've been buying. I bought used cds last night: October Project, Olabelle, Bread, Beth Orton. I was actually looking in the O, P, and B sections for Will Oldham. I would have bought his new cd but they did not have it. I also bought tickets to a fundraiser which will include a cowboy junkies concert and reading by Dave Eggers. Dave Eggers writes like my dear Russell thinks. Reading---what is his book called again? Oh, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Ok, reading that was like reading a work that Russell wrote. I loved it. It was so delightful and funny and poignant---and so male, in a boyish, aggressive, pompous, adorable way. I will invite Maarten to attend the fundraiser with me. We saw the Cowboy Junkies together in NYC back in 1990 and it was incredible. The theatre was beautiful, and Trinity is my favorite of their cds. Also, I went to see Salman Rushdie with Maarten a few months ago at Calvin, so I'd like to return the favor.

I guess my entire point for writing this morning is to express how wonderful it was to wake up to watching my new coffee pot brewing a pot of delicious coffee and the day is beautiful, with a blue sky and green and orange trees and also a fluffy adorable puppy snuffling and squirming next to me. It is a good way to wake up.

And to copy something from the dream book. Dreams are amazing. Remember I dreamt I was raped? This is what the book has to say about victimization: "Dreams of being victimized commonly are a symptom of severe depression, such as occurs following a separation or divorce. Such dreams indicate self-blame for everything that has gone wrong." Isn't that amazing? And absolutely accurate and true. I'm finally facing an actual divorce. Tom has stopped loving me finally. Any other man would have stopped loving me two years ago. I find the absence of his love very disturbing as I'd grown to count on it, as if it is part of reality, unconditional, almost holy in it's steadfastness. But something has changed and now he doesn't want to see me. He says it's too painful. He does not want to try to repair our marriage. He says he feels like he is no longer married (as do I) and that he is feeling like it's time to send the papers in. We've been delaying for a year and a half now. I call him and he does not answer. He has made himself very busy and has many law student friends so his social life is extremely full. I still don't understand why this all happened. Even Tom says it is not like me. Bless him. I don't know what is "like me" any more. I've entered a full-blown identity crisis. The therapist asked about parts of me that have always been present and will always be. A love of swimming and literature. And a need for warmth and love of humans, I guess. Although when I was younger this need was never expressed, because I was surrounded, embedded, in a loving family. One doesn't know they need it when they are IN it. Only now that I'm out in vacuous space do I recognize it's absence. The medicine makes me not care too much though.

LeoDeck

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Dream: I was walking in an area that was filled with natural life. Little animals of varying sizes. Deer, woodchucks, rabbits, some foxes. I was not too worried about the foxes. They looked too small to want to go after me. All of a sudden I saw up ahead some very large wolves sitting on the edge of something. I started backing away quietly, hoping they wouldn't hear or smell me, but they did. They turned around and started running after me. I began running in the clumsy, inneffective way I have in my dreams. Needless to say, I did not make much progress and they gained on me almost immediately. Just as they were about to reach me, some soldiers came over the hillock and shot them in mid-air, just as they were leaping to attack me. I woke up and thanked St. Michael for protecting me. I try to pray to him and god nightly to protect me and those I love from the dark spirits. I've had problems with them in the past, especially visiting me in my dreams. This is the second dream this week where I've been attacked and protected. There was another dream, which was an actual dream, instead of a visitation or blending of the spirit worlds. In this dream, I was a machine, a crippled machine-child-woman. All my parts were exposed, very marionnette. I was vulnerable and this rotten man came along and raped me. As he was thrusting, my parts were flapping around like a pin-wheel. I watched from above, sad about the indignity of the clacking parts. My brother was there in some capacity. I think he came in toward the end. I remember I was worried that he would rape me, but this stranger came instead. I guess I've had kind of a harrowing night.

What's going on: I'm learning about SBA loans as I'm looking into starting a drive-through coffee business. I'm working longer hours at work because of a new project. My house has become a true disaster. Clothes, dishes, random items, everywhere. I have a clamp on the floor next to table leaves. I have a dining room table that I bought last week from the Salvation army in my living room. I have to take apart my other table. So, two tables. I've been gluing the veneer back onto the leaves with Gorilla Glue, which works fabulously. The table got wet when it was dropped off. It's beautiful though. Hardrock maple, drop leaves, with extra leaves. It goes from very small to very large almost effortlessly. The lines are clean and graceful. The legs are empire (the graceful empire, not the massive, squatting empire style). I finished A Whistling Woman last night and was very annoyed that A.S. Byatt had chosen to leave Frederica pregnant. I am mocked by art, just as the book mentioned. I want a baby so desperately. I have grief every month when I get my period, which I just got. I completely understand those crazy women who steal babies. I asked Will, half serious, if he wanted to get me pregnant and he answered immediately yes. He said he was surprised at how sure he felt, but that he'd have to think about the rather inconvenient family implications (judgements from mother etc.). So, I didn't hear from him for a while. In the mean time I truly coincidentally booked a visit to his area possibly around the time I'll be ovulating. Still I didn't hear from him. I started thinking he was freaked by my proposal and maybe it had altered our friendship. Surely it had altered our friendship anyway. I never thought he was even remotely attracted to me. In fact, he had been attracted to my husband. Anyway, he called two days ago excited. He has land in the Virginia mountains and wants to start a subsistance farm (one that provides for most needs). He has asked me to come and raise a child on this paradisical, communal, natural spot. I was too shocked to respond. We'll be talking tomorrow night about it.

Two things. I answered an ad for a sperm donor and I broke off contact with Russell. Why did I do both? Good questions. Russell objected, categorically stating that he is really enjoying what we have currently.

Ok, I just need to write a lot Quickly. I'm not sure about a lot of things, but one thing I was slightly surer about is that my relationship with russel  does not go well in practuice. I end up sufferinga  lot and I'm not happy. I love him desperately, but that seems to be a detriment rather than a strength. Last night he said that I have a ravenous appetite for love and that he really needs to become a "love monster" to meet my needs. See how adorable he is? Anyway, we tried twice. I even lived with him. I left my husband twice. There was bliss but also sorrow. He was inconsistent and hurtful, careless, sometimes cold and hostile. That was the main problem. Because of his episodes of bad behavior and willingness to hurt me, I didn't trust his love. Although I do feel he loves me as much as he can love anyone.

I don't know who I'm writing to or what structure this should be in. I could start at the beginning. It could be like a story. But I don't have time really. And then the reader misses out on what is happening now (like the sperm donor). Maybe a single memory and then a current event?

Current event: I freaked on Sunday, overwhelmed with needing and loving Russell and feeling that he did not need the same things from me. I wanted to die. What he wants from me is what we were doing. Spending time together in short bursts, enjoying each other and our love, without pressures. Also, we've not had sex since we broke up in early July. So, there is that. Oh this is more difficult that I imagined it would be. This is my problem: I always feel people need a back story. Even in therapy, I would insist on telling Linda the "whole" story so she would understand why current events were occuring. Russell noticed this. He seemed capable of giving her a summary of an issue's latest and leaving it at that. Maybe that's why we had so many misunderstandings. So, if I'm describe recent occurances, where should I start? The beginning? shortly before the end?

Dream: I was with a number of family, including Russell. I drove in Tom's car across the country. We got to the Pacific Ocean and he had forgotten the key to the trunk. He, or my mother, had to go back. When she returned I heard she had taken a number of side trips. I needed to get into the trunk in order to give something away. Then we were back. There were a lot of people. Lisa was there. I was to be given a baby. There was another woman. She had a perfect backside, like a teen. I think I took her baby. I can't remember. But we left the baby at home and I was worried it might be hungry. I needed a ride home. Pam from work gave Russell and I a ride. Also Lisa came and left. Russell had told me on our first night with the baby he would go out to do someting involving a Kadre. I don't know what that means. We got there and the baby was fine. He had been sleeping the entire time we were gone (about 20 hours). Pam showed me where the formula was. We didn't have the proper equipment for the nipples so we used straws. Russel got ready to go and said goodbye. I asked him again where he was going and he said he would be editing alone because I couldn't be with him. Then he left. The baby was lovely, like a little chipmunk.

Tonight I  baked a frozen, deep dish pizza and watched "The Bridges of Madison County." I cried, which is a little unusual, now that I'm medicated. I understood and felt their bliss and desperation and the terrible choices before them. I could see how weak she was and that she was saved by distance more than anything. If he had stayed in the area, I don't see how she could have resisted. She was right. If she left her family, her guilt and unhappiness would poison their love. So, I was reminded of the early days of my love for Russell, and how it emanated from every cell in my body. I'm not exaggerating in the least. This is a literal description. I called it cellular love. It felt like a force.

Ok, well, here's my first  blog ever. I intend to be completely honest, as if no person were reading this. We'll see how difficult this is to do in practice.

I thought I would just start with what I've been doing lately. I watched "Apocalypse Now" two days ago. It was very sensual. Mr. Cappola did a wonderful job with the insanity streaked through the entire movie. It's the type of film which lodges in one's unconscious. The music was perfect. I've always loved the Doors. I also thought Robert Duvall's performance was brilliant. I've developed a lot of respect for him since seeing "The Apostle," which was fantastic. The one thing that haunts me from A.N. is the ritual slaughter of the bull. I wish I hadn't seen it. It was real and it was horrifying. But then, I eat beef every week. I should be able to witness the killing if I'm to continue being a carnivore.

This morning, I took Leo to check out a farmer's market about 5 miles away. We ended up taking a long walk through meadows and forests. We tracked deer. I peed outside, which was very fascinating to Leo. We found tracks which were strange. I'll have to look them up on the internet. At some point a plant decided Leo was the perfect vehicle for the distribution of it's seeds. So, he ended up covered in these sticky seeds. It considerably marred his normally irresistable appearance, since the seeds looked like fleas. I came out of a meadow into the back of a high school football field where a number of games were taking place. There were cheerleaders and parents, children in football uniforms and teens. It started to rain. I took Leo under the hot dog stand overhang where a group of black referees were chatting over their hot dogs.

It's unusual to see black people where I live. There is a history of Ku Klux Klan activity in the region, which I didn't know about until I moved here. Most whites are unaware of the history. Most African Americans are well aware of it and warn their children about it. We didn't know about it until we decided to move here and our African American friends told us. I felt strangely detached at the football field. Me at any school sporting event is truly surreal. I haven't been to one in, like, 20 years. I guess I went to see my friend's daughter play soccer, but that was a summer league. I called Russel, because he is a sports fanatic and I thought he would get a kick out of my being there.

We talked about FabPrefab, which I just found yesterday and love. We talked about our relationship and how I keep meaning to cut things off permanently, but I can't seem to do it. I told him I don't understand why it's so hard for us to be together since I love him so. I told him I don't think I'm very happy when I'm with him. I feel constrained, like I can't be myself. I asked him if he felt the same. He said he tones down his insanity for me, but he does that for everyone. We talked about Buckminster Fuller and geodesic domes. We're going to look at some, just to see what they're like. Then we hung up. He wanted to go back to sleep. I would like a house with a garden on the roof.

I was tired from my long walk and hungry. I made some tabbouleh yesterday which was Fantastic, and wanted to get home to have it for breakfast. I used the Moosewood recipe and it is the best tabbouleh I've ever had. I'm addicted to it now and intend to have predominantly tabbouleh for the next week or so. It's very nutritious. So, we went home.

Now that I've eaten, I brushed Leo out to remove the seeds and gave him a rawhide for being so good. He's eaten half of it and is wandering around the house looking for a place to "bury" the rest for later. He's probably buried it in my bed. It's a cold day, dark, with on and off rain. I have two sweaters on. I think I'll make some tea.