Finished Forster's "A Room with a View," during my overnight. Forster keeps saying the same thing in all his novels, but I can never get enough of it. The nuance in this one ends up reading something like ( Read more... )

I'm sure my latin agreement is wrong in the subject header. Editions welcome ( Read more... )

I haven't shifted into willingness to engage sexually with women yet, but I do seem to've begun to entertain the possibility of getting there someday, as evidenced by frequent visceral urges to kiss them ( Read more... )

The first night of the summer whose chill is enough to inspire me to close windows & breathe silence, reminds me that I am not so devoid of passion as I might wish/fear. I am working too much, but otherwise, life is good.

[gee but it's hard to capture a mood in 55 words; please to critique ( Read more... )

When they met, they were both telling themselves that they weren't settling for their lovers.
They figured it out almost simultaneously, he in dramatic bursts of vituperation, she with tears seeping slowly out as the life seeped back in.
Each listened kindly to the other's suffering, building an intimacy that became too precious to risk.

When we were young, he hurt me.
Years later, when he apologised, I tried to trust him again, because I believe in forgiveness.
But no matter how many risks I took, without further injury, I never wanted to be his friend again. The hurt had been too great.
I have almost forgiven myself for this.

As they broke off hugging, she looked up into his smirking eyes and said, "you're dangerous," which he took to mean, "I want to fuck you though it's a bad idea."
He felt similarly, but saw no danger, as he believed absolutely in his ability to say no. This was the principal difference between them.

Knowing his reputation as a disciplinarian, and finding him easy to trust, she had propositioned him at their second meeting.
Her satisfaction with their sex would've been cheapened by repetition, and when he looked at her lovingly and asked that she stay, she couldn't help feeling betrayed, any more than he could help wanting more.

A friend of mine has a site where people post stories comprising exactly 55 words. If you're reading, friend in question, please send instructions so I can post this one there ( Read more... )