Thursday a.m. What I wrote in the last two days (v 2) disappeared, far as I can see. The clouds here are just actual clouds.
On Tuesday, I ran into town, which published what I had written until then. Then I realized I couldn't take anything back or even reread it. There is no take backsies here. It kind of unnerved me. But maybe we would be better off if instead of trying to not-say or un-say, we just SAID STUFF without curating.
Later that day, a photo came in. There is no way to tell when it was sent. It felt like a response, I read it that way, and I responded like my writing itself had gotten a Yes. So I wrote us a series of pillowtalk conversations, his parts sketched in as best guesses. About life, work, kids, sex, pain, pleasure, time, words, beavers (not a metaphor) and birds, about broken bodies and climate change both here, hair (ingrown and thrown in handfuls respectively). We talked about Anything. As if we had that time to lie on a creaking bed with eternally green sheets. I think the best parts of that writing was the series of "Mood Swings", how we might through a series of moods we often each feel. I believed he could hear me in his mind and feel touching tendrils.
Then all of that writing was just gone this morning. Maybe he took back the photo - people do that, unsend like I unblog, tho I don't know how - and all my 'reply' went with it.
Late tonight / tomorrow Ears should arrive, though with him (also) you never know if you will see him until you do. In case, I will go to town to get bread for dip, and I will wear some clothes. I stayed utterly naked here til now, inside and out of the cabin, trying to just be a Living Thing along with Everything Else here. I didn't look in any mirror, didn't even occur to me, and until last night didn't even take a (half-assed) selfie. Maybe this will publish. If so, I won't take it back even if I want to.
>imagine removed by blogger<