Chibimagic's Weblog

chibimagic — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 04:46:39 +0000

A mania grips me. Casual browsing has brought me to this point. Almost by accident, I came upon a short story in The New Yorker. Typical and melodramatic in its utter femininity, but it was literature. After being mired in the parched desert of work emails and tech blog posts, it was a tall glass of cool refreshment.

This isn’t the first time I’ve forgotten how amazing words can be – The last time, too, after light heartbreak. I want to fill my head with their spun sugar and let it dissolve against my brain. I want to press each individual letterform into my skin, feel their lightness and weight in my bones. My heart aches and screams at the years I’ve spent not reading. What other pleasures have I forgotten? A yawning void of time opens up before me: I want to fill it with words.

おわり

chibimagic — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 21:32:01 +0000

もうすぎおわった？ちょっとみじかい、ね？

ごめん。ちょっとこいがあった。だれでもないのせきにんだ。ぜひあんたのではない。たぶんあたしのだ。さいごわかったでも、いっしょにそんなことした。

これでもちょっとドラマすぎる。そんなかなしくない。あたしのほうはちょっとむずかしいけど、あなたたちのしあわせいっしょけんめいにほしい。ほんとうだ。

さあ、ありがとう。たのしかった。よかった。

Little vestiges of former lovers follow me around in technology

chibimagic — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 16:32:01 +0000

Push notifications of a flirty exchange on Path. A quip on Twitter from the awkward man I didn’t unfollow. Unprompted, a message on Facebook that I was in the dreams of a guy 5 boyfriends ago – Last year a photo of his new baby showed up in my News Feed. Trying to meet up with friends, I discover via Find My Friends that another ex is driving on the same highway, 1 mile ahead. Two autocomplete results as I type my URL in Safari: one is a sappy monograph on kissing me from the eager boy that followed me around like an imprinted duckling. An email from the roommate I didn’t date, inquiring about my well being and new car. A phone call on my birthday from a man I haven’t spoken to in 4 years, our last exchange being him threatening to track me down after I have kids, and to take them away from me if I’m “still an evil person.” An online invitation to the San Francisco housewarming of a guy I dated for a month, hosted by him and his new girlfriend. Texts from a friend of a friend I slept with twice, ambiguous enough to be a booty call. IMs and camping plans with my first and his wife.

Scenes

chibimagic — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 07:56:12 +0000

We’re lying on his couch, spooning, a blanket tossed casually over us. Helvetica is on. It’s been a long day. I drift in and out of sleep, safe in his arms.

I’m poking at his arm hair. I remark on how it’s a completely different color than his chest hair. He says something about his leg hair, and I throw off the covers to inspect. My face is inches away from his leg.

We’re lying in his bed, facing each other. Both his arms are wrapped around me. My face is buried in the crook of his neck as he holds me tight.

I poke at his Adam’s Apple. He asks me if I’m hungry. I lean in to nibble at it, making silly munching sounds and causing him to squirm away, guffawing.

He asks me a question. The world spins in and out of focus. Everything lurches as I lie still. It’s probably because I skipped dinner last night and didn’t eat a proper lunch, but I like to think that it’s him.

First

chibimagic — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 01:37:57 +0000

It’s my first time. He’s had years of experience. I sit nervously as he describes what’s about to happen. “It’s all about learning the feel. Starting out is the hardest part, you need to take it slowly and gently. Everything after that easy.” He shows me, slowly, describing each motion as he goes. I watch quietly, trying to take it all in. It’s so new and different and foreign to me, but so natural for him. He shows me again. I rest my head on his shoulder as he explains. Finally, he asks, “Think you got it?”

I bite my lip. “Mmrnph,” I mumble.

“Ready to give it a try?” he asks. I nod, and we switch positions.

Clutch. Brake. Emergency brake. Neutral. First gear. I take my foot off the brake and glacially ease my foot off the clutch. Slowly, slowly. Nothing happens. I keep going. An eternity later, or maybe only 5 seconds, my new car lurches into forward motion. I’ve shifted into first gear.

Later, we lie in bed, our limbs tangled, skin touching. It’s late. We’re tired, stuffed with food, and covered in a lingering blanket of cigar smoke. I sniff my hair and his. It’s my hair. There’s no trace of cigar in his hair or rum on his breath. It rolls right off him, leaving him untouched. He grazes the back of my neck with his fingertips, triggering a twinge in my groin. I am overwhelmed, feeling simultaneously vulnerable and protected. I want him to bite me there. Hold me down and do things to me. Teach me skills no one else knows. I want to forget the rest of the world and everything outside my bed.

髪

chibimagic — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 03:01:21 +0000

His chest hair is fuzzy against my cheek. I draw in closer and nuzzle at its softness. His leg hair carresses my bare leg from both sides. His arm rests comfortingly against my back as the edges of his arm hair graze around my spine. He runs his fingers through my hair, making my scalp tingle. The tingle seeps through my neck to the rest of my body, making each individual strand stand up and dance in its follicle. His stubble scratches my forehead and presses incrementally harder against me with every step he takes toward sleep. Every movement is hair on skin. I concentrate on the sensations, willing myself to memorize every indentation he leaves on me.

カオル

chibimagic — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 20:48:13 +0000

His scent. I think I smelled him long before we first spoke. He is the third person I’ve been with that smells fucking amazing. It emanates from him in waves when we dance, and I have to fight to keep my hands from exploring every inch of his skin.

He places a protective hand on my head when we sleep. I haven’t slept properly in a week, but I’m wide awake. As comforting as it is to be in his arms, I want to stay up just a little longer to breathe him in. When I turn, he turns with me and envelops me in his arms. We shift, I catch a whiff, and the whole world snaps into over-sharp focus. It’s a moment of existential exultation. Clean and masculine and subtle, it arouses something primal and visceral in me. He radiates it through his clothes and I whimper inside. Millenia of evolution make my body ache to mate with his, to produce progeny with a superior immune system.

The next morning, it lingers in my sheets. My favorite part of someone new: appreciating all the little things you forgot you missed. I’m dizzy drunk delighted at life’s possibilities. And happy.

Sunrise

chibimagic — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 17:24:48 +0000

It’s hard to breathe or feel much of anything when the world is so large and you are literally above it all.

20111125

chibimagic — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 22:48:35 +0000

Today I had planned on staying in bed, watching TV shows, and generally being a vegetable. But then M said he was going to go out and get some stroopwafel. After I found out what it was, I decided that I had to get some too. So I went to World Market and got some, along with a bunch of other chocolate and candy. I couldn’t wait to eat them so I sat in the parking lot in my car – not even bothering to close the door after myself. I peeled open the top of the package: it opened like a flower. Their shape and smell were exactly as I imagined. I picked one up delicately out of the package. It was hard with a little bit of give. I traced its indentations with my fingertips, and tried to line up the top and bottom layers. I took a bite. It was cold, having sat on a store shelf for probably weeks, but I could imagine its taste warm – a hard little butter waffle cookie, freshly pressed from the iron, then split open and slathered with caramel sauce. I pictured myself pressing the two halves together. One bite, then two. Chewy and sweet. I imagined myself on a street corner in Holland, buying two from a vendor with a well worn stand. And then the cookie was gone. I looked in my bag, full of other goodies and delights, but they seemed so unimportant and far away. I wanted another stroopwafel. I grabbed another one from the bag. I ate this one more slowly, feeling the sweet caramel on my tongue, and the hard little waffle indentations. I chewed slowly, the sweetness was overpowering but I loved it in my mouth. Down to the last bite now: I bent the cookie with my fingers and pulled the two halves apart slowly, watching the crumbs catch and stretch in the caramel. Last bite. And I was done. I wallowed in the sugar and sweetness and lightly pouding headache as I leaned back in my seat. Before me cars were passing on a busy street, framed by falling leaves, but they may have been a million miles away. I was in Holland. I was on my own, in my car, buying a bag full of candy with no nutritional value and no one was going to stop me. It was a warm fall day in a place that has a fall and everyone was happy. I could do whatever I wanted with my day.

20110906

chibimagic — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 07:53:19 +0000

If I squint, I can see it.

“Talk me down.”
“Whats the matter?”
“Same thing as before.”
“Stop it. You’re better than that.”

A fine thread of happiness weaving its way across my vision.

“Do you think you have a high self esteem?”
“No.”
“It probably accounts for a lot of your malarky.”
“Malarky?”
“Malarky. Tomfoolery. Shenanigans.”
“Malarky.”
“Anyway. Today isn’t over yet. You agreed to speak your mind. So what’s on your mind, kiddo?”

I like what it does to me. How it makes me feel. The person it inspires me to be.

“You’re going to tell me to tell him that.”
“I wasn’t, actually. If you were predisposed to take that advice, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Okay. Tell me something else.”
“I already threw out both of those, and you didn’t bite to either.”

I want to reach out and grasp it, but it’s so new and small and delicate. I wouldn’t know how to fix it.

“Do you know what would make you happy? It’s non-rhetorical.”
“No.”
“That’s a problem, then.”

And if I did manage to snag it? What else would it dredge up? All those questions that I left unanswered so long ago. Lurking. Waiting.