Give me your eyes.
I do not ask to touch
The hands of you, the mouth of you,
Soft and sweet and fragrant though they be.
No, life your eyes to mine;
Give me but one last look
Ere I step forth forever,
E'en though within that moment's crashing space
I shall know all of life and death and heaven and hell.
This poem is supposed to encapsulate the longing which Grimke felt for women and the restraint with which she controlled it. And even though I do not know what this restraint is, something in the verse speaks strongly to me. You can read more about her here.
Also, yesterday I go for a walk in the rain. It is not so much for pomp as by circumstance, a light shower catches me halfway home. Luckily I am close to Megamall when this happens so I go in and buy an umbrella which I dearly hope but don't believe will last me more than two months like my last umbrella did - goddamned made-in-China trash.
And then I go home and have dinner (beef jerky, fried egg, garlic rice) then after that I wash my face and brush my teeth with a
bottle of Jack shot of vodka and then I try to decide what to wear. I'm thinking that I'll just wear the same t-shirt I'm wearing like I'm that guy who doesn't really care about his clothes but I remember there is a dress code so I pick out a nice shirt. Actually it is the only nice shirt that I have. Anyway, the next thing I know my phone is ringing and it's Elaine, Elaine is downstairs.
We take a cab to her place where we chill for a while. Well, I chill for a while while she's busy eating dinner/putting on her make-up/getting dressed/smoking. Also, we talk for a bit and there's a part where I'm sat on her couch watching The Vampire Diaries and falling in love with Ian Somerhalder and she's in her room and also we're talking about whatever when she says out of nowhere, "You know what Drew, I'm so glad you're not a butterfly. I don't think I could hang out with you if you were. I mean, they're really fun and all that but I think if I spent a lot of my time with them I'd go crazy."
This gives me some pause because I share the same sentiments she does, like I find that too much camp can be grating and this used to make me feel guilty because I'm gay and I thought that I had to accept all gays too. And then I remembered that I'm all for transcending the boundaries of sexual identity and that although on the surface being camp has to do with being gay, it doesn't really. So that made me feel less guilty.
It also made me consider my obsession with the macho ideal. I admit it is something that I think a lot about; I am constantly agonizing over the fact that I am not masculine enough, physically. And I know that this is entirely superficial but it does not change the fact that what I find beautiful is this - a well-built body, a restrained demeanor, and purposeful movement. Or to put it crudely, "bawal ang mataba, bawal ang maingay, bawal ang malamya." These strokes, of course, are quite broad and only meant to outline my idea of an ideal. Consider David. He is standing still forever but thanks to Michelangelo's skill, we can imagine him in motion. We can see the strength and grace in that powerful body. Even at rest, relaxed, he is not limp but self-possessed.
David could very well be gay.
I'm afraid that this entry has spun wildly beyond what I imagined it would be when I set off, and that I have rambled on long enough. More of my thoughts on this (as well as the rest of my story) when I have put them in the right order. Also, I have to exercise/wash the dishes/do the laundry.