it's 1:46 am, on September 05, 2003 - will we go back there some day.

~

I was going to write a really long entry today, but then I emailed poor doqz and he bore the brunt of it. The shortened form goes: I am in love with all shapes that Gonzo takes. Also, the Muppet Movie is my true fantasy.

there, aren't you glad you didn't have to hear the long version? that actually sounds somewhat not selfish.

going through my back emails, I found a bunch of Izzy and Rick scenes. I have no idea when they were written; it's enough that they were. also, it reminded me that River used to nickname me "stella" - which was funny at the time, I'm sure, but then so was bobby-farming. of course, the subject lines were stolen from Al. what does it all mean? what do they all mean? what do I all mean? the world is made of clay.

~

"and now there is this-- uncommon ground"

Izzy looks around, trying to find Rick in the dark apartment. He's missed Ricky, working on this new project, and Ricky working a lot, and it's been almost two weeks before they spent more than half an hour catching up. More than two weeks since they fell asleep together, and Izzy thinks that's important, really important. It's his apartment, Ricky's, because Iz let himself in with his key. But as things are dark and Rick, isn't anywhere, Iz gets unsure, and wonders if he should have knocked first. That's never happened before. Maybe Rick has a date.

There's a faint light from the bedroom. Izzy does knock on that door. Rick says, 'yeah' and Iz turns the knob, and he peers in, and smiles when he sees him. Ricky. Some things don't change.

~

Iz want to say, 'do you think love ends when you don't see me', but that's a quote from The End Of The Affair, and that's far too, violent a love to quote about right now. That's the kind like, that burns, and burns itself out. Jealous, hateful, passionate loving. The kind that consumes.

This love is the same, as far as consuming goes. He might wake up for three days straight and not think about Ricky once, but as soon as he does, there's that. He can't see Ricky's face clearly -- and at times like this, he always thinks, 'Ricky', never 'rick' or 'stanley' or anything else. Always, Ricky. Fondly. A little afraid. Craving.

"Ricky." It's quiet. "Hey."

Rick nods. "Hey."

Alestar says all stories should start with 'hey'.

~

Even if they were to sleep together, that night, passion, panting, the pulling of clothes -- and they're not going to because Izzy is scared of going, there, and so they keep one part of desire locked up and away, at least for now. But even if they were to go to that space, it would never erase the faint echo of 'ricky' that Iz can hear when he listens. It's tender. It couldn't ever be anything else.

~

The story goes like that.

 

"making sense of your silent hands"

It's not a love story, even though Izzy would disagree once and a while. It's not a love story, because those have a beginning, and a middle, and an end, and Izzy looks into Rick's face in the dark, and all he sees is a beginning. That's too trite, too poetic, for words. He snorts.

Rick eyes him in the dark. Iz can run his hands over that stomach, that back, that waist. That face. It's the same now as it was then. It's always.

Rick doesn't say much, late at night. Alex stares at them, once and a while when they're curled up together and pretending that no one else is around, and he'll know, he'll know. He'll know that it'll always be Ricky. It'll always be ricky.

Late at night, Iz does the talking, a lot. Because Iz, has, some self confidence once things are moving forward. He needs boundaries, and he needs a definition, but then, he's free, he's able, he's fine.

He talks to ricky. He says stupid things. What he likes doing best is running his hands up and down. It makes sense. Rick stays silent.

~

and who the hell knows where any of those were going. Izzy and Rick are complete entities without us, now, so it's not even some secret code for my own emotions. which makes things a little simpler, but not much, not much at all. I want to know if everyone is this battered and bruised. is everyone this battered and bruised? do we all want to go out to the desert and look at the sky with our own people surrounding us? or do some people actually make it, find those people and hold on, while the rest of us just watch the muppets and wish for balloons?

~

-

what would sith be nostalgic about anyway - November 24, 2015
moving truck dilemma - October 28, 2015
- - July 19, 2015
- - July 01, 2015
bruise - June 29, 2015

-