(no subject)
he has been avoiding my calls. he says he usually is busy when i call, but deliberately chooses not to call me back. he apologized, and said he knows that it's not the right way to deal with it. he says that needs time, and he thinks i do too. i can't think of any other way to explain to him my fear that in our need for time, the awkward pain of hearing each others' voice will eventually become insurmountable and then, we will be lost to one another.
this came from an email i sent him last night. i read 'eurydice' by sarah ruhl for class, and i found in it pieces of our relationship, and not just because we wandered into the theatre in august to see it. i remember asking him what he was thinking and his response would be 'music.' he squeezed my hand at the theatre when the actors portrayed us completely: a little too young and a little too in love. looking back, their tearing-apart is what me and cody's felt like. and eurydice's final monologue...that is what i sent to him. it is all of the things i have been trying to impress upon him, all of my thoughts that he refuses to understand. so i sent him the monologue, saying that if i were eurydice and he were orpheus, this is what i would send to him. i would give my letter to a worm, and then wait in the underworld until he was able to speak the language of stones.
dear orpheus
i'm sorry. i don't know what came over me. i was afraid. i'm not worthy of you. but i still love you, i think. don't try to find me again. you would be lonely for music. i want you to be happy. i want you to marry again. i am going to write out instructions for your next wife.
to my husband's next wife:
be gentle. be sure to comb his hair when it's wet.
do not fail to notice
that his face flushes pink
like a bride's
when you kiss him.
give him lots to eat.
he forgets to eat and he gets cranky.
when he's sad,
kiss his forehead and i will thank you.
because he is a young prince
and his robes are too heavy on him.
his crown falls down
around his ears.
i'll give this letter to a worm. i hope he finds you.
love,
eurydice
there is another monologue, too, that i love quite dearly. i explained to him that this is what this has been like; this monologue encompasses all of our relationship.:
orpheus never like words. he had his music. he would get a funny look on his face and i would say what are you thinking about and he would always be thinking of music.
if we were in a restaurant, sometimes i would get embarrassed because orpheus looked sullen and wouldn't talk to me and i thought people felt sorry for me. i should have realized that women envied me. their husbands talked too much.
but i wanted to talk to him about my notions. i was working on a new philosophical system. it involved hats.
this is what it is to love an artist: the moon is always rising above your house. the houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. but he is always going away from you. inside his head there is always something more beautiful.
orpheus said the mind is like a slide ruler. it can fit around anything. words can mean anything. show me your body, he said. it only means one thing. or maybe two or three things. but only one thing at a time.
this is what we were. cody would get caught up in his music and sometimes he wouldn't speak at dinner when we went out. i always thought everyone was staring but probably, nobody was. if they even saw us, they probably saw our love and thought it was wonderful for two young people to be so happy with each other.
even though i am still never alone, even though i am not brave enough to sleep by myself...i guess it's okay. that's a lie. i'm still not anywhere near okay. i care a lot for these other people in my life right now...but i can't love them the way they want me to.
more later, maybe.
this came from an email i sent him last night. i read 'eurydice' by sarah ruhl for class, and i found in it pieces of our relationship, and not just because we wandered into the theatre in august to see it. i remember asking him what he was thinking and his response would be 'music.' he squeezed my hand at the theatre when the actors portrayed us completely: a little too young and a little too in love. looking back, their tearing-apart is what me and cody's felt like. and eurydice's final monologue...that is what i sent to him. it is all of the things i have been trying to impress upon him, all of my thoughts that he refuses to understand. so i sent him the monologue, saying that if i were eurydice and he were orpheus, this is what i would send to him. i would give my letter to a worm, and then wait in the underworld until he was able to speak the language of stones.
dear orpheus
i'm sorry. i don't know what came over me. i was afraid. i'm not worthy of you. but i still love you, i think. don't try to find me again. you would be lonely for music. i want you to be happy. i want you to marry again. i am going to write out instructions for your next wife.
to my husband's next wife:
be gentle. be sure to comb his hair when it's wet.
do not fail to notice
that his face flushes pink
like a bride's
when you kiss him.
give him lots to eat.
he forgets to eat and he gets cranky.
when he's sad,
kiss his forehead and i will thank you.
because he is a young prince
and his robes are too heavy on him.
his crown falls down
around his ears.
i'll give this letter to a worm. i hope he finds you.
love,
eurydice
there is another monologue, too, that i love quite dearly. i explained to him that this is what this has been like; this monologue encompasses all of our relationship.:
orpheus never like words. he had his music. he would get a funny look on his face and i would say what are you thinking about and he would always be thinking of music.
if we were in a restaurant, sometimes i would get embarrassed because orpheus looked sullen and wouldn't talk to me and i thought people felt sorry for me. i should have realized that women envied me. their husbands talked too much.
but i wanted to talk to him about my notions. i was working on a new philosophical system. it involved hats.
this is what it is to love an artist: the moon is always rising above your house. the houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. but he is always going away from you. inside his head there is always something more beautiful.
orpheus said the mind is like a slide ruler. it can fit around anything. words can mean anything. show me your body, he said. it only means one thing. or maybe two or three things. but only one thing at a time.
this is what we were. cody would get caught up in his music and sometimes he wouldn't speak at dinner when we went out. i always thought everyone was staring but probably, nobody was. if they even saw us, they probably saw our love and thought it was wonderful for two young people to be so happy with each other.
even though i am still never alone, even though i am not brave enough to sleep by myself...i guess it's okay. that's a lie. i'm still not anywhere near okay. i care a lot for these other people in my life right now...but i can't love them the way they want me to.
more later, maybe.