agent03

New journal

Thu, 06 Jan 2005 06:40:08 GMT

Heero and I will be settling in our apartment in L1. It's a temporary arrangement. We can't call it home, but it's better than being in a hospital room.

The nightmare of his surgery is now behind us. It feels like a new beginning.

Many adjustments will be made. Among them, I'd like to start a new journal.

I might delete this journal in the future. Or leave it here, as a memory.

For now: mask_03. That's my new user name.

(private entry)

Tue, 04 Jan 2005 03:44:20 GMT

While we must remain in L1 until further notice, we can leave the hospital. Heero will be discharged tomorrow.

I've known the surgery was a success, but the relief I expected to feel with those news didn't come so easily. Now that I know he can go home, I can finally breathe again.

I will make sure he makes full recovery. I can take care of him without the intrusion of nurses and doctors.

Heero Update

Wed, 08 Dec 2004 16:40:43 GMT

Heero's surgery was a success yesterday. He is now in his room recovering. He is mostly asleep, but occasionally opens his eyes and says a few words to me. I suspect it will only be a matter of days before he's irritating nurses.

He thanks everyone for their support.

(private entry)

Tue, 07 Dec 2004 18:39:20 GMT

The first time I saw him like this, he was far more broken. He was literally in pieces and I was sure he was dead. I picked him up because no one as courageous and committed to the mission as he, should be left to rot on the battlefield, discarded and unmourned.

When I realized he was alive, it was all I could do to keep him that way with no doctor and very little in terms of medical supplies. Yet he lived. And I followed him. And I watched as the walking miracle traipsed about Europe handing over a gun to anyone that would take it so he could offer his life to them. Luckily, the Noventas lived their philosophy and Heero survived.

And here we are again. He and I. In a hospital waiting once again for the axe to pass over him. It's so different this time. He looks pale. He's cold. Exhausted. There is fear. All these things I never noticed before because time and circumstance would not permit it. And now, I see it, amplified in front of my face. All these things I missed the first time.

I talked with J. At Heero's request, he's confided in me all the medical information. Perhaps he's told me a few more things than Heero himself is aware of. Such as if Heero had waited till the 15th like he initially intended, he may have died.

That piece of gundanium in his heart... it is there because J ordered Heero to self-destruct. And however close the two of them are now, I want to kill him. J. It's there because of him. If he weren't the best person in the operating room right now to save Heero, I'd rearrange those bionics where they don't fit.

How odd it is to come full circle. The act which I so admired then, these years later, I abhore.

Surgery Update

Tue, 07 Dec 2004 18:14:15 GMT

They were able to get Heero into surgery today. He's currently in pre-op. I will keep everyone posted on his progress.

Poem from the waiting room

Tue, 07 Dec 2004 04:55:08 GMT

I'll drink it black.
Please, no saccharine.

Mexican jumping beans
taken for fine ground coffee,
I learned to make due with what was available.
Now I'm learning about lime, smoke and ash,
In a time of peace, I watch buildings burn to the ground,
an entire world brews dark, roasted in the aftermath
There are suds poured with Today's coffee,
a whole residue of dished out negativity
not rinsed off this mug, though we scrubbed our hands clean.

The harsh detergents cling for filmy days,
weeks, longer. In sulfur stained basins where faucets cry
stalactites and scum rings harden as far up as we're sunk
washing ourselves sore, our fingers rap knuckles
readying for the morning's exchange of evening coffee
spurt out by the tepid drop, in a constant lukewarm drizzle,
"This is no dream. We aren't shaking off the half-awake shroud
cast over red-eyed homecomings. This is real."

Our cup is full, bitter, set aside on the table.
I am too tired to drink any more. Or acknowledge
foam gathered on my face. I swallowed my limit.
Please, no more soap today.

(private entry)

Mon, 22 Nov 2004 19:40:25 GMT

Quatre invited me today to hear the group Bond play. There is something wonderful in Quatre's excitment. It is troubling to see him so distrought over his own passions. Quatre should never be silenced by anything. Not even himself. There is a melancholy to him lately, despite his apparent energy when others are looking. I wonder if he really believes I don't see it.

Heero. I love him. And now that we have taken the relationship the next step, I love him all the more. I love his uncertainly and his eagerness to please. It is a new aspect to Heero. One I never expected from him.

One thing that is bothering me is Heero's inability to recognize his own opinions. He seems so concerned with what I and the others think, that he often fails to realize his own thoughts. I wonder if college will help him to express his ideas and feelings more. For one so sure of himself in all things war, I hope he can find the same grounding in peace. Perhaps we can learn this together.

Mon, 15 Nov 2004 20:22:44 GMT

It's no wonder maxwell_02 wanted me to do this:

Your Erotic LJ dream by cozzette

username

you went to bed feeling

You began to dream about

desert4

who was

doing you

the water

with

nothing but a bootlace and a bandaid on

which made you

hot

but was interupted by

maxwell_02

who began to

get jealouse

You awoke

with wet sheets

and you hope

that dreams do come true

chance of that happening:: 94%

Quiz created with MemeGen!

I think I can live with this. Quatre, is this alright with you? Let's try not to make Duo too jealous.

Poetry Reading

Sat, 13 Nov 2004 03:08:44 GMT

OOC - This is the poem that Trowa will be reading at the Poetry slam at Heero's coffee house tonight.

I write against waiting
(And even with pens wrapped around
vulgar gestures that they won't see,
read or comprehend if they did, don't wait) for
the raw, tender or too inelegant
skin to flesh out in clichéd
a.m's of fevered sleep.

Because I cannot hide that anymore
the comments over waterspots, and other
conversations I'm not meant to hear
(or listen if I do) do not sound as whole
as the bruised lips and half-phrased
admissions of guilt or love or
whatever less than crystal murmur we make

when we pour over
glasses that are only water,
plates that are only eggs,
and poetry that is only fleshed
in how ready we are to say
that words are broken, cannot be cleaned
because even in these fragile, unkempt lines
there is nothing to hide
and we cannot wait.

(private entry)

Fri, 12 Nov 2004 15:48:59 GMT

It is an odd thing to wake up one morning and discover that with in there is this…ego…self…person… And that it is true, once one becomes a person, one enters the world of loneliness.

I wonder who he was dreaming of.

Stranger in a Strange Land (private entry)

Wed, 10 Nov 2004 17:50:21 GMT

How is it that I wake up one morning and find myself with a job and living in America? It never occured to me that I could end up here. Despite the disillusion of boundaries, it is a foriegn place to me with customs that are sometimes both baffling and ludicrous. Land of oxymorons. But this morning I felt something which must be akin to... happiness. Perhaps where one is doesn't matter when you have all you could ever want in your arms. Quite another strange and unique feeling. And yet it feels right.

Therapy (filtered for Wufei)

Tue, 09 Nov 2004 15:44:18 GMT

I spoke with Allen Singh yesterday. He thinks he can help increase mobility in the knee. Thank you for the suggestion.

Job

Mon, 08 Nov 2004 21:22:58 GMT

This morning I was given the offical list of job duties and responsibilities from the American office of the International Consulate. Then we spent the rest of the morning re-writing the list until I was satisfied with it. It is fortunate for me that so few Americans speak more than one or two languages. Some seem not to have a first language at all. I speak five fluently and can read two more, which granted me quite a bit of leverage in dictating my own schedule.

Mostly I will be translating documents into various languages and transcribing some back into English. This I can do out of the office. I will only need to go in for special international meetings which occur about twice a month. As long as I do my job, they are to leave me alone. They agreed to this, so I am now employed. The money, incidently, will keep me comfortable.

I am glad I stumbled on to this job when I did. The thought of having to take Une up on her numerous job offers with the Preventers was weighing heavily on me. I do not want a job with a uniform or badge. I especially do not want one that requires me to fill out forms on weapons and ammunition inventory.

I am happy with this arrangement. It will keep me current on languages I don't use as much. Good practice for when I travel.

Mon, 08 Nov 2004 07:26:55 GMT

In these clouds, the past became white,
There is no up, every direction is falling.
Without wings, a shell and exalted stories of dashing
love in flight, the blurry, ungauged horizon
closed around until vision becomes a pinpoint
and we forget why we are here
--though the reason is clear.

...like a sigh...

Fri, 05 Nov 2004 17:26:29 GMT

What is it to lay a swath of words upon the page like two bodies lying together in a field watching the dark spaces between clouds? The definitions sought written in the space kept between stars that break through gaps in the sky, we narrow in our gaps until silence strung from words has as much meaning as the words and a single star glows in the dark spaces between moments, between pressed shapes in the sod and in the between after exhaling when we are not even certain of the next breath. Then our lungs fill with words, with significance, with laughter, with everything we want to say but can't in a single breath. Then we may say something small or nothing, and only hear our silence breathed out again, sounding like a sigh.

l'étranger

Thu, 04 Nov 2004 23:58:03 GMT

Je peux me retourner
Et m'en aller
Ou je peux tirer avec le pistolet
Fixant le ciel
Fixant le soleil
Quoi que je choisisse
Cela revient au même
Absolument rien
--Albert Camus, L'étranger

(private entry)

Fri, 29 Oct 2004 16:05:50 GMT

I had two discussions yesterday. One with Duo. One with Heero. Oddly, the one with Duo was the easier of the two. Perhaps because there was so much more at stake with Heero. Sometimes I am too blunt. Normally, I do not regret this as I do not have the time to waste of dancing around issues. But last night I wonder if I should have used more caution.

I told Heero that Duo has feelings for him. I felt it was stating the obvious, as Duo had said as much to him already. But as Duo is prone to joking and teasing, Heero is prone to only reading the surface level. Their languages are different and miscommunications run high. So I told Heero in his own language. I don't think it bothered him so much that Duo felt things for him, as the fact that he had misread Duo all along. It's like thinking you know someone only to find out years later that they're a total stranger.

I then confessed my own feelings for him, which only served to complicate matters. He needed to leave. I don't blame him, it was a lot to process. But I wish I had the time to explain things to him more. I suppose there will be time for that later if he allows it. As it stands, there is now division amongst us, and a division that need not exist. Duo and I both know of each other's feelings for Heero. Neither of us are bothered by that. I think it only natural that as Gundam pilots that fought together in two wars we would be drawn to each other. Each of us, in one way or another, have a close relationship with the other. I do not begrudge any of the others thier feelings. They are natural. They are real. Perhaps this is too bohemian of me. I'm from the circus after all.

Hopefully this will be sorted out soon.

(private entry)

Thu, 28 Oct 2004 20:13:31 GMT

The moon wasn't the only thing eclipsed last night.

(private entry)

Wed, 27 Oct 2004 23:54:28 GMT

Dinner went well the other night, but I think Heero felt uncomfortable with some of the conversation. Particularly to the matter of kinks. Interesting. He took the test and openly posted it. Why be embarrassed about it now? Oddly, Wufei took it as well and then complained. I wonder if this is part of the new socialization where in people embarrass themselves in totally avoidable ways.

I took those test out of curiosity. Apparently I'm very high schizoid and dominant sexually. Interesting as they don't appear by their definitions to be compatable.

We are going over Duo's tonight to watch the lunar ecplise. It is nice to know that even through all the wars and space travel, the moon still keeps her mystery for me.

Dinner

Mon, 25 Oct 2004 21:06:44 GMT

I would like to repay Heero's hospitality by making dinner tonight. Duo, Wufei, I hope you can both join us.

(private entry)

Mon, 25 Oct 2004 15:17:39 GMT

The coffee of earth is infinitely better than anything they ship to outer space. If I ever go back there, I need to remember to pack my own supply. Heero has a private stock of of multi-flavored blends, most of which I would never approve, but I think he's attempting to learn the flavors for the customers at his shop. Or maybe out of curiousity. Maybe he just gets it for free. Hazelnut and raspberry chocolate are not coffees, they're candy. But I found a Sumatra that will suffice. A French Roast would be nicer though.

The play was a pleasant experience. This was the first time I was invited to a performance that was not my own. It was difficult not to critique it, but all the players did a good enough job. I wasn't sure if Dracula was suppose to be the sympathetic character I found him to be, or if I was suppose to identify more with pathetic Jonathan (Wufei would have considered him a weakling) and the easily corrupted Mina. Or maybe Van Helsing, who was stronger, but more unhinged. I enjoyed the villian most. He was merely acting what was in his nature, everyone else was playing a role.

There was a curious tension between Duo and Wufei. Heero picked up on it as well, but said nothing. I could see it on his brow whenever he would look at either of them. It bothered him.

Heero seemed rather distracted the other morning. Something else was bothering him, but he didn't talk about it. Perhaps he wants his bedroom back. Maybe I have over stayed my welcome and should move on.

(private entry)

Sat, 23 Oct 2004 21:29:37 GMT

It is interesting the difference a boundary can make. I've never been comfortable on the North American continent. It's like a different planet. Still, it is very good to see Heero again. Not much has changed about him in terms of demeanor and style. It was a relief to find out we can still read each other's signals. Now that we are together, the worry I had that we would be strangers has melted away. I look forward to spending this time with him.

There is still a weariness hanging over me. Not of Heero. But of my own direction. And where do I go from here?

Thu, 21 Oct 2004 21:53:58 GMT

I'll be arriving from Mexico at noon tomorrow, Heero. Are you working or should I come directly to your place tomorow?

On Earth

Tue, 19 Oct 2004 19:20:34 GMT

I arrived on Earth yesterday. I will be at the university on Friday, if that is alright with you, Heero.

Interesting. The trip here invoked a memory. It's been years since I thought of it.

In the retina of my eye,
the whole Earth and the sky
could be seen reflected.

...look outside and really soak up
the sunrises and sunsets,
the moonrises and moonsets, the views
of the Himalayas, Australia, all the continents.

There were roses...
they had been buds, and they had
opened up to bloom.

The world looks marvelous from up here,
so peaceful
so wonderful
and so fragile.

Thu, 14 Oct 2004 19:52:08 GMT

I quit the circus. I'll be arriving on Earth Monday, 0830. I'm not sure where I'll be going from the shuttleport, but I'll have my laptop with me for communication. Heero, if the offer still stands, I would like very much to attend the play with you Halloween weekend.

Ghosts walk through walls, through people,
through clouds. A ghostly hand stretched out, can't touch
skin. Though in clouds where their billowing faces carve
conversations, out of focus tragedies, whole productions,
we pause, our upward gaze recognizing
no ghost
or drama on a rain drop,
not even a dusty ocean angelic in the sky,
floating and folding in the higher winds there is a circus
elephant, a clown's left shoe, the letter 'Q'.
That cloud, says a dreaming voice, barely breathing,
tumbles over us, opening like a three ring.
We're the shy M.C.'s announcing acts
quietly gathering
enthusiasm builds
the grass stands watching from hills,
swaying as though a theremin's faded-in, faded-out
drone wants there to be ghosts,
a hand that we can't touch,
or people crowding grandstand aplomb,
heckling with ceremonial delight
missed cues
star performers upstaged by crashing flashes,
thunder claps, and awestruck announcers
short of breath, stature, resolve and what to say.

Ghosts walk through crowds, among people.
wind--some shapes carve from lit up faces
entire clowns, acrobats on horseback, the alphabet queued
souplike beneath backdrop blue. Some shapes gathered
outstretched hands that can't touch
but mold the sky
and like ghosts
are felt.