Tag Archives: lovers

13 Ways of Looking at the Waters 5: The Autumn Prince and the Summer Queen, page 2

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I originally had bigger plans for this page, but I scaled them back once I got the main details. It was saying pretty much what I wanted it to say, but something did seem to be missing on both sides. On the Summer Queen’s side, I realized it had to be her losing her crown, but on the Autumn Prince’s side I couldn’t figure it out. I mean, it could have been some bits of hay? But that is not very interesting.

But I took a page from my very early vision of the comic and dashed out this funny little crow, who I love. Obviously there are crows aplenty in the Autumn Kingdom. And they also think it’s weird that people make so much trouble for themselves by not saying what they mean.

But also, let’s face it: Titus and Rose did NOT belong together. That’s the point of this story. You can love someone as much as it possible to love anyone. That doesn’t mean you’re the least bit compatible or share the same goals or even see each other clearly.

Hold on Loosely, but Don’t Let Go

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Sorry about that shady looking butterfly. I was on a schedule.

Thinking about this lately. There are people who make a deep dent in your heart while they occupy it, and you can’t buff it out when they go. I guess I’m fortunate to only have a few people like that; with one or two exceptions, I’m still friends with everyone I’ve ever dated or hooked up with, although sometimes it takes a while to get past the hurt and rekindle a friendship. I don’t burn bridges. I don’t hold grudges (too much).

I still have those size 4 jeans. Damn, my ass looked good in them, for the 15 minutes of my adult life I wore a size 4. Unless American really does descend into anarchy and there’s no food and I end up in a camp for dissidents, I do not anticipate ever stuffing myself into them again, but some small part of me still holds out hope. The pot did get tossed, although not without a lot of anxiety. Like, I took a photograph of it, and I had to squelch the urge to go rescue it for the next couple hours. Fortunately, we left town so I didn’t have an opportunity to grab a broken pot (which was old when I acquired it second-hand in 1992). A lot of memories in that pot.

So, if that’s how I feel about a busted, perma-scorched, avocado-green pot with 2 broken handles and all the teflon scratched off, you can imagine my difficulty releasing people from my life. I love hard and deep. I’m like the puzzle box from the Hellraiser movies. It takes a while for me to let people in, but I never voluntarily let them out again.