12.13.17 (a brief sketch of self, on anniversaries, marriage, voices in your head, the source of the true fire) 

Yesterday was my marriage anniversary, so my in-laws told me. My wife and I were legally married 12.12.12. I thought that was unique then, that day, the numerology part, that’s what I paid attention too. 

I had told my wife the whole time of our relationship which at that point, 12.12.12, had gone for years, that I was not into the marriage ritual, as is. Priests, white dresses, vows, spectacle, expense. I told her we were married anew each day, each day we laid together, and that she was mine when I decided she was mine, before she even knew she was mine, she was mine. 

But on 12.12.12, we went down there to the Saturnian representative, said some things, don’t recall what. Both our mothers came, we took a picture. I was happy Britney took my name, mostly; I’d told her for years, she could have it, if she wanted it. See taking the name was something else to me. That was the true spiritual cosigning. It meant you acted as a representative of that name, that person. So the question would be obvious, who was the person you were merging with? 

Bastard born, I’ve been uniquely aware of my position. Aware of the distance between families, between identities, I would not be what they wanted me to be, because really they didn’t care what I was at all. So in my vision, I would have to write my own story as it were. And metaphor is apt, because it was books, book after book, idea after idea, I self-mytholigised, dug in the family records, found the gypsies, and the witches, the hounds of the sea. I found a temple underground, filled with the treasure of my ancestors. 

So today is my anniversary, tomorrow is my anniversary, lady willing, Friday will be my anniversary too. There will be no trinkets, nor pleasantries. There will be breath and flesh, words, passions, and hopefully laughter and reason. But the rocks and stone will not testify to a thing. 

She became a goddes when she gave me my three boys. That’s an anniversary which is acknowledged daily and will be until the end. That’s a promise I can make. All this other business, monogamy, marriage, separation, divorce, these are theater for an audience most people are unaware, and I’m offended by. Any time I’m forced to don my costume, it’s ill fitting, and I’m missing the shoes, and there’s a line of eager stand-ins….I’d prefer not. 

Now,  if you want to meet under the stars, and laugh. And hold close, maybe scratch me like a bear, well, now we’re talking. In return for that, I’ll love you until the end of time and beyond. And those things we created together will be worshiped and tended by me forever. That’s it. And if it isn’t enough, I have no more to give. 

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