180. No matter where

A walk-ip apartment. A school bus. Every soft surface in my apartment. Just my bed at my old apartment. Your place. Your shower. Your desk. Your chair. Your couch. Kendall’s couch. A couch in an A-Frame cottage on winding road. Upstairs in the bed at aforementioned cottage. At a Holiday Inn Express in Livingston. A hotel near the airport, A motel near downtown. A farmhouse on a country highway..

Oh yes, and in the desert under the stars on a moonless evening. We could never forget that one:

We have made sweet love so many places, but at some point whenever we do, the world falls away around is and it’s just you and me locked into one another. At least that’s how it is for me.

I cherish every moment of our lovemaking, baby. I am aways present in your arms, soaking it all in. Kissing you deeply. Coming home to an old friend. Coming home to my lover. Coming home to you, over and over again, with each kiss we share.

Talk to you soon, hunky bear. Kisses.

179. Outward homage to inner feelings

I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t watch a funny movie without thinking how much you would like it. I can’t see a man in a blue button down shirt without thinking of you standing in my doorway the night you broke up with me.

But do not worry, sweet baby. I don’t think about how sad that event was. Actually, think about how handsome you looked.

I think about how your eyes looked. They looked just like they have every time I’ve opened my door and seen you standing there—sweet and full of love. Whenever i open the door for you, you look at me with such love. I can’t explain it. I’ve just never had anyone look at me like that before.

I can’t stop thinking about kissing you. And kissing you. And kissing you. And kissing you. And pressing my cheek against your cheek. And kissing you. And laughing with you. No one makes me laugh like you. And I need that like I need air.

That’s what it is, maybe. Kissing you is like breathing, but laughing with you is the air that I breath. The truth is that I don’t know anything except that I want to be with you and that I want to be with you and that I want to be with you when I’m with you.

178. Feel like a woman

Being around you is a real treat. Like you, I am so glad I got to see you today, no matter how brief. It is always worth it to me. Like when you drove out to see me and kiss me for five minutes last week, even the shortest encounter fulfills me. Besides that, we never really say goodbye.

I don’t know what it is, baby, but lately, I am especially giddy about you. I find you absolutely delightful. I find myself smiling and thinking about you after we part ways, and I pretty much stay that way until we see each other again. So, basically, I’m just floating around smiling and thinking about you all the time….except for when I’m with you. Then I’m just in Heaven.

Lastly, I’d like to introduce you to my process. Here’s the second iteration of the “highway noises” illustration. I learned that I don’t wanna do the line work or the text with brush and ink, but I like the watercolor I did everywhere else. I’ll throw this back up on the lightboard and do another one using the same colors and application for the watercolor part, then try just technical pen or brush pen for the line work and rest. Bored yet?

I’ve been reading through the blog in chronological order. I recognize that I can never say I didn’t know exactly what I was doing as I fell further and further in love with you. I have come to you offering my heart with intention every step of the way. I have never felt so much like a woman in my entire life than I do when I am with you, you sexy, sexy man.

177. Letter from Aristodemus to Apolloduros

Plato is basically the George Washington of Western philosophy. He wrote dialogues rather than manuscripts, meaning he philosophized as if he was writing a play, using different characters to progress his arguments through their conversations with one another.

The Symposium is one of Plato’s most widely read dialogues. In it, Apolloduros (your soul in another life) a follower of Socrates, walks with an unnamed companion as he recounts the story of a dinner party that had taken place about ten years before in Athens. Apolloduros was not actually at the party himself. Rather, he learned of the events of the evening from his friend, fellow Socrates disciple, Aristodemus (my soul in another life), who was actually in attendance.

Aristodemus witnessed many pillars of the Greek intellectual community talk about what love is. The letter below written by Aristodemus to Apolloduros does not outline what each speaker said about love—that would be an excellent topic for another blog post or even multiple subsequent blog posts..

Instead, this lettee represents Aristodemus’ reaction to the events of the evening and pretty much culminates in him professing his love to his soulmate, the letter’s recipient, Apolloduros.

.Dearest Apolloduros,

Love ascends a ladder. The lowest rung is infatuation for what is physically beautiful.

As it ascends the ladder, love becomes less physical, and more ideal. It becomes something abstract, an ideal shared between me and you.

Further towards the top of the ladder, there is no more me and no more loving one another, but two souls In love.

As we move up the ladder with love, we move beyond loving one another’s souls and we love all souls.

Then, ever higher, there are no more souls in love. Just values, laws, and the sort of intangible threads that create a sense of harmony on earth.

Then, there is love for the journey to the top of the ladder. We call this love for process.

Then, there is only love as the essence of Love. We call this essential Love, with a capital L

Beyond the ladder is the stark naked truth of the universe. We call this the Truth, with a capital T.

There are no more shadows there, My Sweetness. Only stars and nothing and everything. Let us go there.

Go with me, My Love, to the place where there is no love called “My Love.” Go with me to the place where there is no you and me.

Infinitely and With Everything,

Aristodemus

176. Wall kiss

I just had idea for a snowglobe featuring a lovers spat. I just want to put the idea here so I don’t forget it. Just two people working through some things in the midst of swirling glitter and artificial snow. I want to both celebrate the messiness of human relationships and keep the messiness confined to a glass sphere.

I am so looking forward to seeing you, Craig. I miss your cheeks against my cheeks. I am especially excited to know a wall kiss is coming my way. It really gets me when you do that. I loved that then—the first time you did it. I can remember it clearly. Did you tell me you were going to do it before you did it? Anyway, I love it now. I love waiting for it, longing for it. I love the experience of loving you.

I am going to delight in your precious company, my baby. I love our time together. I am going to pet your head and your face and hold your hands in mine.

I’ve told you before that you make me feel like a teenager. I think it’s largely because I feel so open with you. I just put it all out there in a way that most people don’t by the time they’re old enough to have their heart broken a few times—including myself. I don’t know if I’ve ever just totally given up trying to be cool and just let myself fall into another person like this. I just couldn’t help it, though. That’s all I can really say for myself. I have done what my body told me to do and I have followed my heart . Take both, baby.

175. My muse

Before we met, I lived under a different sun. The air was used to support a steady flow of disbelief, expanding me, spreading me out, making me obtuse and, in a way, superficial…while also constricting me. The air was used to fuel my grieving.

Before we met, I knew you. I knew you in the way I would respond to feeling smooth stones beneath my feet, or wind blowing by me, tickling the fuzzy hair on my arms. I knew you in the joy I felt looking at the blue sky over my childhood home. I knew you in the night sky, which cradles my dreams. I knew you in the moss earth I laid on in the Redwood National Forest, back when I was a tiny, tiny girl. I was married to all these sensations before I met you.

But now that we’ve met, I am married to galaxies. The sky cannot contain me. The sun is reduced to a candle, compared to what I see. Sheer as a cliff, all walls fall down in this whole new world. All the walls drop away because you are here with me. You are my muse.

174. Winning ticket

You are my closest friend. Sometimes, I am quiet when I look at you because I am just lost in amazement and rendered speechless. I feel like I won the lottery by virtue of having met you.

The way we kiss feels like coming home over and over and over again.

173. Bedsheet tents and philosophy

In the book I am reading, What Love Is and What it Could Be, philosopher Carrie Jenkins writes that romantic love is dual in nature, as it is both a biological phenomenon and a social construct. The way my heart races when I see you again demonstrates romantic love’s biological component. Our ideas about to carry out our romantic business derive from socially manufactured norms. Both the biology and sociology of love come together and are equally important in determining how you and I experience love. Pretty cool stuff to think about, huh?

I am just laying here, baby, and I’m mighty tired. I’m reading this here book and just thinking about how I wish it weren’t late and how I wish you weren’t far away so we could make a little tent out of chairs and bedsheets and talk about it. I sure love playing with you and talking about how we think the world works.

I’m super sleepy, my love, and I’m happy right now because I get to go to sleep thinking about you. I can feel your kisses. Happy to miss you. Loving to love you. Always baby. Goodnight.

172. Feel like makin’ love

You and I have spent a lot of time developing and understanding of what love is through analyzing and discussing different types of love. I’m starting to think that categorizing different types of love reveals but one thing—that love is nuanced.

There are as many types of love as there are people alive on earth. There is no objective truth about what exactly love is. There is no “view from nowhere,” as my favorite modern philosopher, Thomas Nagel, would say. When you and I make love, we are literally doing just that. We are making our own kind of love.

171. Letter from an astronomer to a botanist in the early 1800s

This blog, for the most part, is a compendium of all the different ways I can contrive to tell you about the simple fact of my love for you. Although I don’t think I will run out of ways to tell you this, I thought it might get a little bit boring. Same ol’ me. Same ol’ message.

You asked me recently who or what I thought we were in the iterations of us that came before. As I’ve considered this over the past week or so, I’ve begun to think it might be fun to tell you I love you from the point of view of one of my previous forms.

Of course, given the limits of human knowledge, I’ve had to take a lot of liberty in deciding what form I might have been and what that form might say or have said. I’ve decided that not all forthcoming blog entries will be like this, but some of them will.

This one will be like this. Here, we are both natural philosophers living in the early 1800s. I’m an astronomer and you are a botanist. I am writing you a letter trying to explain to you the underpinnings of my tedious calculations in a way that makes sense to you. You are brilliant in your own right, but while your eyes are fixed on the wonders of the earth, mine are fixed on the stars and beyond. Here goes:

My Fellow Friend,

The moment we raised our eyes to the heavens is the very moment we became, if something less than angels, still something more than animals. Of all living creatures, only humans dare to look up from the earth and dream of other worlds. Those distant worlds are connected to ours by a vast and ubiquitous force. So vast and ubiquitous, in fact, that it went undiscussed and taken for granted throughout most of history.

Yet now we know that the same force which sends a crumb of bread tumbling to the floor keeps the moon tethered in her orbit. I’m talking about gravity, where the attractive force between two bodies is mutual and equivalent, whatever the difference of mass between them.

The ancients imagined the earth was the central point of the universe. Newton’s discovery showed us that this is am incomplete truth. The earth is the center of a web of force that touches the moon, the sun, the other planets, and perhaps even all those distant stars that burn so far away. But every other moon, sun, comet, planet, and star is itself a center, and exerts its own force upon all the rest.

Nothing in the universe stands alone.

With You Always,

C

170. Expertise

Will you write a manual on how to love me? I could refer to it when I don’t love myself.

169. Lil’ Lawbreaker

Everything I write on this blog is governed by a set of unwritten laws. I more or less adhere to these rules, except when I don’t. Since I am the writer of the unwritten laws, I think it’s okay to break them when a suitable occasion arises. Well, Sweeeeetz, one of the blog rules is no sexy blog posts two nights in a row. But tonight, I’m feelin’ like a lil’ lawbreaker.

I LOVE making love in the truck. I feel like what is lost in square footage is somehow compensated for by the heightened sense of passion and adventure that comes with going at it in a somewhat public setting. Like teenagers…teenagers with skills beyond their age when it comes to making love to one another.

With you, I feel the luxury of living out passion But I also feel an enduring sweetness between you and me, and that’s what I hold the most dearly in my heart. Yesterday, I asked you to please show me. You showed me again and again today, my love, my light, my joy, my all. I am blooming.

168. Really Tasty Cheeseburger

You fucked me so vigorously that you made my period go away and now it’s back…two days later. Think about that. You broke my reproductive cycle with your cock. I’m thinking of you thinking of that, and I hope you’re making the face you make when you think about your dick—like you just had a really tasty cheeseburger.

My heart has been all swelled up ever since you came to hold me and kiss me this afternoon. Thank you for showing up for me like that. I have missed seeing your truck in my driveway…and I actually love in that truck too. I just love that truck because I love you.

Let’s circle back to that fucking you gave me on Sunday. That orgasm was INSANE! You’re right about the screams, baby. I can’t help it. The way you make love to me is perfect.

167. Rubber ducky parade

The more we go through, the closer I feel to you. Even on days like today, where I sensed distance. Your phone call, the questions you asked, the way that you spoke to me, made that feeling go away. And that’s the feeling I don’t tolerate well—the feeling of you pulling away from me…and I suppose the loneliness that goes with that. The other feelings just don’t sting so much when I feel connected to you.

I have made you a very special smule recording and put it on Marco Polo which explores the possible cause of pain during urination. It is not autobiographical. It was written and performed by Frank Zappa. I understand if you don’t want put to ever have sex with me again after seeing it, but I thought it would nice for you to wake up to first thing in the morning.

Oh, and baby—II am glad I was there last night. I could tell you were in pain from the moment you got out of your truck. I think it was really good you took a bath, especially given that it’s a pulled glute. You’re such a sweet thing. I’m happy I got to hold you.

I know, I know. I say it more than you want to hear…but…..I can’t help it. I love you so very much.

I will try to sleep now. I hope I dream of you. My rubber ducky parade.

166. A Case of You

If you want me I’ll be at the bar.

165. Warm-up Lap

I’m about to go see you, so I’m preparing myself. I’ve already made myself look as hot as I can today, so what’s left is what’s inside me. I arrange my thoughts and feelings, of course. But most importantly, I go to the pace in my heart where you live. If practice is exercise and loving is practice, then living is exercise, and what I’m doing now is warming up to work hard.

Also, I was reading from our poetry book this morning. I came across this poem. I think it meant something to you:

She reminded me that it’s okay to take care of myself

to fall down and cry and let myself be picked back up by someone else

to not always be strong

that I don’t always have to put them before me

that it’s okay to want someone

to rub your back run their fingers through your hair

read you to sleep

roll you up into a burrito blanket

it’s okay to let yourself be taken care of

164. Terms of endearment

Buttercup

Bone of my bone

Flesh of my flesh

Light of my life

My duckling

My precious

Darling

King among kings

Sugar in my bowl

Pulse of my heart

My sweet bear

My heaven

It would be nice to refer to you as any of these names to other people. I think it would make them happy as it would make me.

Language elevates and language is playful. I’d like to tell my future co-workers that I’m going out to dinner, not with my boyfriend, but with the light of my life, or my stud muffin, or my joy toy. Any of those things. The world should be peppered with such loving words.

I want a word to use on even the most casual or mundane settings that refers to you and which lets others know that I love you ridiculously.

163. Chemistry

You turn me on in my mind and in my body, and that is so very important to me. Our sexual chemistry is ineffable. You physically engage with me in a way that draws me to you, regardless of whether or. Not we’re in a sexual situation. The way you hold yourself in space is extremely attractive to me on a purely physical level. That attraction is enhanced by the deep emotional and intellectual connection we share.

If I weren’t so close to you, I would t be comfortable telling you about all the things that turn me on. Like thinking of you telling me in my ear that you love how wet my pussy gets for you. Like thinking of you teasing my wet pussy with your dripping cock, drawing circles around the entrance, making me wait for the pounding we both know I want.

I love how you know just how to gently lick and tease the area around my clit, peppering in an occasional long lick of my labias. I love getting your chin wet with my juices. I love the involuntary arch of my pelvis. I love stroking your hair. I love when you look up at me from beneath those sexy eyebrows of yours. I love thinking about my deep rhythmic breathing growing heavier and heavier as you brush your lips across my hot pinkness., your face buried in my cunt.

I love being able to tell you about those things, I enjoy our intimacy very much. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world..

You said to me today, “you know how I feel about you.” I don’t know if this makes sense, but sometimes I think I am so enthralled in loving you that I don’t let myself feel loved….and that’s no good! So, I’m going to try to not do that. I’m going to relax and let you love me and bask in that for awhile. Is that okay, Mistah Wahrshboirn? Moreover, does me saying this make any sense?

I loved our little phone date, Sweeeeeetz. I’m glad I got to see your face. I could stare at you for hours if you’d let me. My heart is truly in your hands and I love you so very much.

162. Paper Bag

161. Tasty sweet angel baby hunky man

I failed to say some things earlier, so here they are.

First, I wanted to hold you so badly right then and there. Not just touch you I wanted to gently hold your hand, your hands, your face, and your heart. And squeeeeeeze you HARD.

Second, everything is alright in the world.

Third, I love when you wear your sexy sunglasses with that waxed jacket. You are so fuckin’ yummy lookin”. Mmmmhmmmm. Tiny baby likey. Tiny baby is rubbing her tummy and nodding vigorously.