Another reason why I’m sad Simon is gone: The creepy crawlers out there. (I went online a couple of days ago just to see what’s what. This is an email I got.)
You asked whether it is possible we are the only two people in DC humbled by stingy sea creatures. The answer is no, although we may be the only two who understood where it placed us in the natural order of things and who were duly humbled — enough to think of that as a most humbling experience. I was not naked, thank goodness. I might have died, as people often do on wrangling with the man-o-war, lowly jellyfish or no. Neither was I drunk, as you suggest. I was 11, and a full year away from hard drinking.
Good reasons to desire you:
We both loved the Poisonwood Bible. The palindrome-speaking sister and the little one who communed with snakes are stuck deep in my head now five years on.
I love that picture of you with the rainbow-strap purse, and I love that you love it and have posted it here.
You like to dance. I like to dance. You ar funny and quirky and sexy. Hardly much to go on, but something.
You are a writer. I love “partially played guitar,” the hammock diamonds. This reflects a more substantial beauty to go on.
On the downside, I am not sure I agree that laughing at strangers is sexy. Also, more fundamentally, my most-fully-integrated self desires deeply to mate for life, and you and I have a built-in obsolescence in our differing desire to reproduce.
Still, though, on balance, I think I would like to meet you, and, if we found each other good hearted and full of wonders and wanted to remove one anothers clothing and visit places jellyfish ought not be permitted, then I would love to flow through-and-through with that chi you mention. (I just tossed aside your desired subtlety, I think. The many moons of waiting for my dreamboat have got me a touch buggy just now. Lucky or unlucky for you.)