current | archives | rings | guestbook | profile | notes | design | host

v u l v a l i c i o u s

Sin, with appreciation to oneword for such delightful words of the day
2003-01-20 // 3:20 a.m.

The word "sin" was sitting before me on the computer screen, laughing like it found me hiding out in a cheap motel room doing Secret Things and being bad. It told me to come write. Funny how a word will do that to you.

The first thing I think of is an Indigo Girls song; I am thrust into countless car trips and hear myself top-volume singing, "say you can't swim the river, I saw you running to jump in. I swore I'd never be a sinner until I held your sin." It's this summer, it's the heat of a grrl that told pretty stories and sweet lies, a grrl that liked the taste of metal and air and cigarettes. It's a moan from somewhere inside of me as I sit in my car thinking of her.

But she's gone now, expelled from my psyche the way you want someone to be when you like them painfully and their feelings are returned in half-hearted bursts. We kissed, and I felt my Self pushing away from her. The lips I had once longed for, that even moments earlier I had asked to kiss, seemed dreadfully imperfect to me in all the wrong ways. She told me she liked to tease when she kissed, and that she liked the way I reacted.

Re-act. I was playing a part, pretending to kiss her with more than my mouth. I laid beside her just to touch her, but closed my eyes and thought of someone else. My faraway her, the grrl I couldn't escape in spite of miles of distance. And it felt wrong, but in all the right ways, and I circled my hand over her stomach thinking of that faraway grrl, whispering her name in my head.

And it feels like a sin to want her when she's so close, and without her knowing. It feels like I must be a Very Bad Grrl to linger near her door when her light is out and think of her sleeping, quiet, resting but with her mind still working, eyes darting back and forth under closed eyelids in the sweet intensity of her dream-sleep. It feels like I should confess something to her, that I should tell her what I feel for her.

It feels like a sin to have a crush on her, to want what I cannot have.

But sin, at times, is a pure and necessary thing, redefining love, hope, goodness, sanity. It's not dirty or contaminating so much as it is uplifting, knowledge gained that reminds you: there is more that you don't know, there are feelings you've not yet had, the ride gets better from here on out.

Sinning, sinner, sin. I am running to jump in, and my Cunt streams out behind me like a red glory flag. Amen.


i travel backwards in time, but dream of going forward - 2006-11-21
The Gentrification of a Perfectly Good Cunt - 2006-04-02
apologia, not apology - 2006-03-06
karen carpeter loops and the space time continuum - 2005-12-19
kissing like you mean it, even when you don't necessarily know what "it" is - 2005-04-16