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kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pm
onefellswoop) wrote in kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pmtexts texts texts
this one is for texts!
onefellswoop) wrote in kingdomsofrain2024-01-24 08:25 pm
4/4
This is from Majorca four, maybe five years ago, when we took Sergiy.
We. Me, my family. Not her.
[...]
I still look so - well, I think. I don't often look at my own back.
1/3
[ … ]
[ … ]
I’d give my apologies for dredging up [ … ] the abject horrors of war and its brewing. But I can’t regret knowing it, not when it’s your truth and not when it’s what you’ve lived among.
[ … ]
Sen mentioned something touching guerrilla tactics. Hadn’t known whether it was bombast in speaking and sort of figured it was so, Sen being Sen. My mistake, there, and I ought to’ve been more careful in asking. Had cause for suspecting, and whatever I don’t know or haven’t gleaned about your country’s no cause and no excuse for ignorance or rough trodding.
As if it would’ve been a pub fight for fuck’s sake on myselfShite.
Point being, ain’t fucking easy, any of that. For you, I mean, not that you need my telling it. And it goes without saying, maybe, but who’m I to let sleeping words lie when I mean to say I appreciate your telling, and would rather you hear it’s so.
That informant you’ve spoke of. Sounds no less than what he brought down on hisself, or called to coming for him. Needs to be that fist driving restitution, fuck of it being there’s human costs at every side. Gift of yourself and your fellows being you’ve brought it, some piece of what’s needed.
Rank betrayal it is, what calls a threat to living, to keeping free in life, and that’s a crime can’t be denied or left on rampage. Some destruction’s only to be met in its own kind.
Not an eye for an eye, what you said about the fruitlessness in that’s correct as I see it, but where there’s lives at stake and protection to be made, there’s blood must run and messages to be driven.
Seen some evil myself. Can’t say I’ve witnessed it in that same form, and fuck me if that’s a betrayal doesn’t speak hell itself gazing through.
I’ve naught but respect for what you’ve done and where you’ve been. Aye, and sorrow, though neither’ll do a spit of good for atrocities occurred and underway.
Glad your brother was with you.
Can’t say I’m not selfishly glad you’ve stepped back from the fighting, and glad moreso for your own and your Sergiy’s sake.
Well and. Can’t be denied there’s prodigious use in gathering aid. Brings more than a body can do on one’s own, or that’s the case most usually. Builds the scale a little larger, tilts odds further from those forces and them beings perpetrating.
Fucking costs, and fucking calumny.
[ … ]
Might’ve said. I know people who know people, more in the way of products but not only so, and know a few things myself. Might be people might be things you know yourself already, but. Might be matters worth discussing, when there’s no gap of space to separate us.
Regardless and any rate, one more thing for saying this part of my message.
I’d like to see those scars or yours. Hear every word you have for sharing, whatever you’ve a mind to speak.
Your marks and your knowledge, your speaking, worthy of witness, I’d say.
Worthy as more so and above any else, you are yourself.
Let me witness you in perpetuity, Talik. With all the open scope you've offered up to now. With everything you can and care to give in sharing. That’s my ask, and always shall be.
2/3
Seems as well, and is as well, the case you’ve been forthright with myself, more than I’d have thought to ask.
What I mean here again’s my thanks for your offering. Speaking what you’ve known and what’s brushed by you.
I expect I didn’t say about Deforest, no. ‘Knowing’s a generous word for it; I’ve met the fucker at a distance, seen him in some action, but anything that rancid’s made for keeping clear of and aye I’ve been in a same proximity as him. Guessing he’s no knowledge of my self, and I’m pleased for it to keep that way, fucker’s got no right, nay.
Eh. Still, that’s closer knowing than anyone ought ask for, and I’ve no fault to you for feeling alarm. After everything stolen from you and what he’s done, can’t see how his spectre wouldn’t grow beneath the skin in ways difficult to guard against.
It’s how some of the direst ghosts a long lasting pains get started and attach theirselves, or that’s the way I think it, have seen it.
What’s gratitude for me is that my bringing about that name didn’t call you downward fully. And as much as a man’s own word can be believed, I’d say you’re right in trusting your Vevay. Won’t say I’ve never fucked up with anything, but in partnerships, aye, I take my care, guard any heart I’ve touched to with the caution I’d best grant my own, whether that care runs deep or shallow. There’s something to be said for defense, something to be said in keeping caution for the ones brought close. That’s a responsibility I take above all else.
Aye, see, line from a poet, American maybe, about responsibility’s in keeping the ability to respond. Means an exchange and recognition, means liveliness and keeping with awareness, not always draining inward, means a leaning into attentiveness. Responsibility of the self’s one thing, less thorned to track because its language is your own, known better to you than to any other. Responsibility external brings a work of moving pieces.
Fuck, my point, my fucking point, is I’ve made a point of taking care with others, and I mean to take care with yourself, as well. All the more with you, as you speak all the clearer to my heart, and I’d like to think your heart my own.
[ … ]
Like or not, granted or not, I think it is. And I call my own heart yours, if you’ll have it.
Might be our trust springs from a source similar, mutual. Call it the font of the romantic. Call it what grows of adhering to the heart and heart’s care.
[ … ]
There’s a word for that, as well. Older language, older form of English might be, hert hært or heorte something. Eh, fuck the finding of it, point is the phrase I’m fixing on is heart’s care, and point is I’ve got that fixed on you from my heart, and feel a mirror of it in yourself.
Point as well is I mean to be equal to any trust you care to give, and I’ve no cause to believe I can’t be that. I’ve my downfallings and errancies, that’s so, but lacking steadfastness’s not among em.
3/4
(I'll have a look at that back of yours while I'm at it, shall I? Let you know its comparison to the Majorcan photo, though I'm guessing now no photo can compare with the honest sight of you.)
With the self same fervour, I want your knowing on my tattoos, every mark and every corner of my skin, my self. I want to know the shadow of your hands, my Talik, and your breath against my neck.
Academically speaking, and then non-academically speaking in future times, when all can be discussed and acted without hazard of reprisal. At present, it’s a thought to dream on for my self. Warm in shivers through my being, and true it’s kept my company each day, each night since the potentiality first showed itself.
Going to be a lengthy two weeks, full on interminable, but it won’t lack dreaming, and there’s more company in a message written from you than I’ve known in years. Closer and more wanted company than ever I’ve known.
There’s nothing you’ve said that takes me as disrespectful, nor unworthy. Nothing you’ve said that doesn’t match my wishing, or what I’d care to hear.
Every line you give, I value. Bright or romantic warmed or sharp with grief, I wish it all and value all.
What’s this worry or wariness for speaking, Talik? Take that question rhetorical or meet it with an answer, no censure either way. What I’m finding’s there’s not words enough to say the measure of my meaning fully. Might be there never can be words enough, and part of speaking waits in gesture and in eyes meeting eyes, hand slipped into hand.
For myself, there’s meaning can be spoke only through playing it, that cello of mine filling gaps where I lapse inarticulate. Which is also to say I’d like to play for you and shall first chance I get, aye those songs I wrote and rarely play for hearing. Might also be to say I’ve songs for writing yet, outside my glimpsing before knowing you and now, see Talik, now I long to find em.
Don’t for an instant think your Vevay could weary of what’s romantic, particularly when it’s from your self. If you’re a fool, then I’m your fool to match, and we’ll keep these romantic notions as an arboretum of our own, to flourish and bask in precisely as we please.
4/4
The third is a recent photograph of Nova, taken by a fellow player during an out-of-doors quartet rehearsal. He sits relaxed in the dappled shadow of an ash tree, arms wrapped above the body of his cello, bow caught loose in one hand, chin settled on his forearm, hair ruffled by a breeze. He might be listening to strands of song or conversation, might be watching a bird or cluster of park-goers in the distance. Whatever the case, his expression's dream-laced, smile soft and pleased, as if the world might be not so rotten; as if knowing there are wonders in the world yet to be found. ]
Maybe that?
no subject
English? Okay, English?
[ A video follows; in the frame are a slim, mousy, blond woman with round glasses and hazel eyes like Vitaly's, and a darker-haired man of around fifty, likewise similar in appearance. Both of them seem to be putting on their best efforts to look intimidating, but the man can't stop almost-laughing.
In the background, Vitaly can be heard laughing while half-protesting, half-pleading in Ukrainian.
It's the woman who speaks first in broken, half-remembered English. To her credit, she’s extremely confident in her attempt: ]
[Iryna:] What is your name - Nova? Nova, Nova, okay. Why you Vitya are wanting, eh? Is a nice photo-
[Andrii, correcting, his brow raising at his sister’s efforts. His own are much more coherent, his accent not particularly thick:] It is a nice photo. When was the last time you spoke English?
[Iryna, ignoring him:] - you are very nice boy for looking. At you always he is smiling. For why you -
[Andrii, in English, the Ukrainian, as he reaches for the phone:] Iryna, you sound like fucking Yoda. Let me talk to him if you can't remember how to speak English, he’ll think you’re stupid -
[Vitaly, off-screen:] Neither of you talk to him! Give me my phone! Max, let go! I brought you all chocolate, this is the thanks?
[Iryna, raising her voice and jerking away from her brother as she gestures brusquely at the phone:] I speak English, he is understanding, okay! Look at how he talks! That’s not correct, either, so why does it matter if all of my grammar is perfect? He’ll understand. Novako! For why you are wanting to Vitya this, mm, talking so? Vitya is looking like he is eating rocks.
[Vitaly:] Eh! Don't be rude! Give that back-
[ Andrii moves suddenly, reaching to shove away something behind the phone with a youthful laugh; there's a scuffle and the sound of a dog barking, as well as another female voice shouting about Dodo getting in the house. Iryna lithely ducks out of the way, phone now clutched in both hands. ]
[Iryna:] We are watching, Lover-Boy. Like the hawk! [ She points two fingers at her eyes and two at the phone. Then she lowers her voice to a stage whisper: ] He always your text is reading when he wake until he at night is sleeping with phone in his hands. Two nights like so!
[ She emphasizes with two fingers held up. ]
[Iryna:] Two! Maybe more nights than this. Vitya...Andrii, how do you say he is in love?
[Andrii, weakly from off-screen, possibly because Vitaly has him in a headlock:] ‘He is in love.’
[Vitaly, aghast:] Andrii!
[ There's a smacking sound and Andrii mutinously shouts Hey! ]
[Iryna, playfully musing:] 'In love.' Pretty! 'He is in love.' In love, in love. Good. Novako, I you am telling our words. Ya tebe kochayu. 'I you in love.' Maybe you are saying 'Ya tebe lyublyu', but so is not correct for Vitya. Not correct for lover. Is for family. Ya tebe lyublyu is for Dodo. Is correct how I you am telling. Ya. Tebe. Kochayu. Okay? I you in love, ya tebe kochayu.
[Vitaly:] Iryna, don't you dare, don't send that to him NO! -
[Iryna, smiling serenely now:] Is my number, okay. Text to me.
[ The video ends there; it's followed immediately by a phone number. ]
1/?
Well, now you've met Andrii and Iryna.
Neither one of them is sorry for taking my phone and humiliating me
to my b; if it's of any consolation, I'll be teased mercilessly for sending you the photo from Majorca - which I did not do, but do they care?I got the phone away before they could see your tattoos, but not the pub photo, which they are reenacting in front of me just now.
Well. Iryna and Andrii haven't seen one another in several years, and I have not seen Maksym for some time, either. It's only exuberance at being reunited, even if it is at the expense of you and me.
Oleksei has helpfully documented my attempt to reach the phone before Iryna could send that video.
[ So he has. Vitaly sends a photo of himself in a dogpile with two other men - Andrii and Maksym. He has Andrii in a headlock and is trying to look back over his own shoulder; he has one foot drawn up as though aiming to kick at Maksym, who is pinning him down by his leg. Andrii has a fistful of Vitaly's hair.
The family resemblance is there, but so are the clear differences in age. Maksym is much younger than all of them, perhaps in his late twenties.
Notably, they're all laughing.
Even Vitaly. ]
If this makes you decide I'm not worth your trouble or wait, I'll understand.
But I'll be very surprised.
Please don't hold that against me, Vevay. I couldn't help having them for siblings.
[...]
Maybe don't hold any of it against them, either, please? Talking of love and what I do or don't with my phone - they're teasing.
You. They're teasing you as well as me.
Not cruelly; I only mean that they didn't try to scare you. I think [...] -
I think perhapsTheir excitement isn't only reunion. They would like to see my marriage end and for me to be happy.
[...]
And they see you have been making me happy.
Andrii read your last messages. What you said in apology, in support of what he and I do. Of Sergiy.
Of my heart.
You said many things that might make them like you.
[...]
Iryna has asked me to say that she plays the violin. Which she does. So, there you are. My siblings approve of you before you and I have even spoken beyond the academic.
I tried to say I've only known you a week, and that I'm withholding judgement until we meet in two weeks, but they can see how much we've been talking. They can see how I hurry to check my phone when a message from you arrives. How I've been smiling.
How full of hope I am.
You'll forgive me, won't you?
2/3
Here, think of it so: you live under a post-capitalist imperial superpower where fascism is steadily on the rise, and where your own existence makes you a target of violence and rejection. You don't know if your country will defend you against even your fellow countrymen. There is always the chance that it won't.
Is this horror or just an unfortunate reality? It's both. But if you think of it as a horror, you fall into despair, don't you?
If you speak of the ways you fight to exist and how you've survived, isn't it better? Your tattoos, your [...] shoe pump, your children, your cello, the music you write. What you do with your heart. You feel your own capability to thrive in spite of the horror.
I feel often that I have no import, no use, no excuse for the wasted life I believe I've lived. I forget, and yes, I fall into despair.
Then I speak of my scar. You dredged up pride, Vevay. Not horror. I'm proud, in a way. Not like Americans, proud of just being Americans and of standing for their flag instead of the other way, the flag a symbol for them? It's not so, here. We are not Ukraine. Ukraine is us. But we are fighting for freedom, too
though who is invading America that they need to fight for freedom always, who fucking kn.Maybe pride is the wrong word. [...] I feel it's my [...] social contract. My responsibility to protect myself, my family, my neighbors. So I do, and that's good. That's right.
Pride is what I feel for my son.
And for a man who says his heart -
His beautiful heart, that he holds out with both hands, is mine if I'll have it.
How can anything be a horror? How can a man look at these terrible things in life and not feel filled with wonder and joy - because he has something worth all of it?
And I have two somethings.
[...]
Here, this: If I think a subject will inspire horror or sorrow or anger, I'll tell you so - as I did about Deforest. Perhaps I'll ask to speak about it some other time if I wish not to turn the mood sour.
...Generally speaking, that subject will be Madeline.
I won't leave you uncertain, Vevay.
3/3
I could say you don't have my heart, and that I don't wake and immediately look for your words on my phone, or sleep and dream of you, or fill every moment not devoted to Sergiy with thoughts of you.
It wouldn't be true, but I could say those things.
[...]
Let me hold what is true until I see you?
For now, I'll say - I am in far too deep for denial. I've bared too much of my heart to ever lie about what meaning these messages hold.
1/3?
Formidable headlock you’ve got on Andrii there. And Maksym’s the one about to get a foot to the face? Ey, my thanks to your cousin for framing the moment. Has to be said also though, seems a bit rude to dogpile yourselves without inviting Dodo hey? c;
I’ll be storing this pic and video for myself, presuming you don’t mind. Right alongside the Majorca photo, which to my sight and my prodigious appreciation gives no cause for teasing. It’s an image much valued by your Vevay, who continues to catch hisself staring at this phone’s lock and home screens both, a thought for yourself to hold in mind through any teasing incurred.
Here, my declaration is it’s a beautiful photo of a beautiful man. And if you had’ve sent it, where’d be the fault when a pic like that ought to be shared and seen.
Your Vevay cherishes your sight (aye, and everything about you), remember that, as well.
Worth noting here you don’t look in the least a devourer of rocks. Got too much going on in mind and heart to be full up with granite, any case, and if there’s any man built from rocks I think we both know it’d be the same twat speaking ‘simpsons r yellow.’
Far as my concerns go, there’s naught to hold against you or your siblings. Seems in good fun, yeah? and no harm in teasing of this sort. Nah, no ounce of cruelty felt in it, and truth is my day’s brighter knowing I’ve maybe got you smiling. Just as well, this chance of hearing your laughter, Talik, that’s a tincture to soothe all ills.
That and any glimpsing of your daily living’s good for me. Got me laughing myself, that’s so. Gave me the gift of your laughter and my own. So nay, nothing to forgive or even approach forgiving.
Eh, and you know the Shitheads and you yourself saw that shamble of a group convo unfolding. Think it’s safe to say I’m no stranger to amicable chaos. Feels like home, or near enough, and it charms me. I’m charmed by your siblings I mean, and more so I’m charmed seeing (eh, hearing) you with em.
They love you, aye? Ah, …lyublyat? They care about you, that comes through clear. And if it’s not too early saying or eh even if it is I’m saying I’d very much like to meet them sometime, your siblings. Might bring along wine or eh gin, fruit basket seeing as chocolate didn’t spare your phone’s theft.
Which, here, thing I’m finding is it’s not so far different, Ukrainian and Polish? Don’t seem to be anyrate, or at least there’re eh words or sounds, like, in common, chocolate’s being one of em. Easier to tell in the hearing. Not to say I captured every word spoke, but there’s some of the sense wasn’t lost.
Worth saying maybe, Rozalia’s Polish. I learned the language living with her, and won’t say I’m great shakes with speaking it, but comprehension’s sound enough. We figured it’d be good for the kids, getting to know more than the one language, and she’s more relaxed in speaking it, aye?
Working on Ukrainian, but eh, I’ve not the acquisition skills or maybe it’s straight smarts of certain among our compatriots. Got tenacity going for me, at least, and force of will, and I’ll get there. Only thing’s there’s liable to stumbling along the way. Long as it isn’t eh…
Was gonna say long as it isn’t fucked strange or presumptuous, my looking to learn and gleaning what I can. But as I know my place with you, figure it’s fair, and learning language’s a way to better knowing you, or so I think it.
2/3
And, eh. Looked into it myself and I’ve got a fair enough idea, but the words she set out, the Ukrainian, those’re right enough? Right for truth when it’s voiced, that is? For sake of academic notations, keeping store.
Academic notes and times for speaking.
Talik, my Talik, I’ve words myself for you, that’s so. Words I’d like to say and words clawing for expressing, but aye, truths like that are for speaking first aloud, with my eyes on your own.
With my hand in yours, as well.
And for the sake of sharing and because I’d like to tell it, I’ve been myself drifting to sleep phone in hand, and checking it soon as I’m awake. Grinning like a loon gone daft through the day, jobs and rehearsal and whilst stalled marveling at my phone in the middle of Tesco. Holding onto dreams that find me in the night, their theme running ever to one soul, one beacon in existence.
Can’t stop thinking of you, and I’d not want to for a moment nor for any other wonder in the world. I'll keep those words til I see you, Talik, but aye they're with me now, safe, secure, and cherished.
3/3
I’d like you full of hope, and I’d like to be a hope for you. Your comet, aye, if you like, and you my breathless wonder turning all the world softer, sustaining. You, my cause for hope as well.
Over and again, you put your speaking beautifully. Put truth to words, I mean to say in essence just as well as with particularities of syntax and vocab. Fuck me, but you do inspire a man toward life spun poetic.
What you are’s inspiring, period. A man to take pride in, and a man with cause for pride as well, truth. (Not to deny you room for foibles, not that I’ve seen any but eh, flaws come side and side with existence, and flaws can’t change yr wholeness.)
What you’ve done and who you make yourself’s no small feat, Talik. What you’ve taken stand for and fought and the reasons therein, aye, that fucking matters, to say the least of it.
And what you’ve said of social contract and responsibility, that’s resonance for myself, or what I mean’s I adhere to thinking there’s much to be done for safe keeping of others, looking out beyond what’s singular.
Can’t say I’ve stanced myself at all the way you’ve spoke or that I’ve like cause for pride, but it’s also true responsibility’s answers look a little different in what you’ve well identified but I’ll emend slightly to call this farce of a post-capitalist imperial fascist-tending semipower obsessed with tripping over its dick en route to patrolling the toilets and corralling its denizens for slaughter.
Shite country, but there’re plenty of people not so bad in it at all.
Here where I am and there where you are and elsewhere, doesn’t have to be all horrors. And every person bears some ability to, eh, mitigate those horrors for folks beyond their selves.
Well. You see with every text I like you more. Respect you, that’s so, and wish learning more of Talik.
One more thing, I’ll keep what you’ve signaled in mind, that you’ll tell me what’s most gruesome for taking up in talking. Helps to know, and no harm no shame ever shelving off talks for another day or never. Likewise, when or if a time comes you want to talk what’s wrenching, your Vevay will be here.
Around the same time that he receives Nova’s texts…
Good morning, Vevay.
[ That one word draws a smile from him that he tries very hard to stifle; when he can’t manage it, he huffs a little laugh and looks away, gathering himself before pressing ahead. ]
Okay, if they’re going to steal my shit and take video - videos - then I should do this thing myself.
You can meet my family before even I meet you. Ready? Okay -
[ He turns the camera around to show the view out a window of a sparsely-wooded stretch of land. A fence borders a portion of it, and within its confines is a large, light brown dog currently engaged in the serious business of digging. ]
This is Dodo. She’s very busy, you see, but happy to meet you in New York.
If my mother doesn’t kill her for that hole.
[ Turning the camera away from the window, he aims it around a clean guest room with two beds, a wardrobe, and some suitcases stacked neatly against the wall. There’s a shape under the blankets of one of the beds.]
This is where Andrii and I sleep. Not very interesting.
[ He reaches into the frame and pulls up the blanket to show Andrii, whose eyes crack open slightly.]
And you know Andrii. Not very interesting, either. Say ‘good morning’ to Nova, shithead.
[ Andrii mumbles out ‘Good morning to Nova’, then rolls over, away from the camera. Vitaly lets the blanket fall back in place. A hand ventures out from beneath and slaps at the little table by the bed until it hits a pack of cigarettes. Vitaly moves on, narrating along the way: the hallway, and okay, we’ll find someone awake, probably my parents somewhere, ah, shit-
He stumbles and swears, the camera panning back to focus on someone’s duffel bag.
And then into the kitchen, where two women are seated at a dinette table with coffees and a third is cooking. The oldest of the three sees he’s filming and makes a sound of annoyance as she turns her face away and blocks it with one hand. ]
Here are Iryna, my beautiful mother, and my brother’s wife, Sunny.
Sunny speaks okay English.
[ The woman at the stove - a dark-skinned redhead - pulls a face and asks, “Who’s this for?”
She’s clearly American.
Smugly, Iryna replies in Ukrainian, “Vitya has a boyfriend.”
Oksana whips around and an avalanche of questions begin. Over Oksana's shoulder, Iryna...grins, then winks in the same exaggerated way Nova does in the pub photo.
The video cuts out.
When it cuts in again, Vitaly’s face is bright red and he looks chagrined and amused. He’s no longer in the kitchen. ]
See, I can edit out all the uncomfortable parts this way. You didn’t have to sit with me for an hour while my mother asked questions. I hope you were able to do something nice with that time.
[ Wary now, he peers around a corner, then waves for Nova to follow him; slowly, he aims into the sitting room where two men are loudly arguing about…football. ]
There are Oleksei and my father. This is why Oleksei is going to kill them. He likes the Italians. My father hate them. Hates them.
[ A voice from off-screen asks in English, in a stage whisper, “Who are we talking to?”
Vitaly jerks and swears in surprise, the camera swinging around to focus on Maksym. He’s grinning impishly; continuing to whisper - not wanting to be drawn into the debate in the other room - he asks, “Is this for your boyfriend?”
There’s a momentary hesitation, then Vitaly answers with a soft, “Yes.”
Maksym’s grin widens and he waves enthusiastically at the camera, then mimes a shushing sound and points toward the living room. “It’s too early for this shit. When you come visit, sleep in like Andrii.”
He slaps Vitaly on the shoulder and crosses out of frame, calling out in Ukrainian, “Why can't we watch GOOD football? The Steelers are playing today.”
Vitaly groans as the voices pick up angrily. He slips away from the room and lets himself out a back door; Dodo comes running immediately. He crouches so her head is in frame with him. In a low voice, languages fluidly alternating, he speaks to her as he scratches, rubs, ruffles her fur.]
Good girl, Dodo, good girl. You have to stop digging holes, eh, but good girl. Say ‘hello’ to my Nova? We’ll go meet him soon, just us. That would be nice, don’t you think?
My Vevay.
My - boyfriend.
[ He’s heartbreakingly uncertain with those words, testing them out to Dodo and glancing at the camera as though seeking approval.
He offers a small smile and a soft ‘Okay’ before ending the recording. ]
no subject
[...]
It's a nice thought: I could say good morning to you. Someday. Today, that's obvious, but maybe someday beside you. Waking to your messages is a little like I think that would feel.
A phone isn't enough. It isn't warm, it doesn't contain your soul. I can't see your smile without asking. I swear I've lived out entire lifetimes of days beside you, all in my head, every detail made clearer with your messages. They have the life you breathe into them, those dreams.
I would be happy just to meet you, though. Too much time is sitting between today and then; I'm beginning to understand Senan and his hatred for watches.
I have words to give you, and until then, I don't want to say anything else. That I'll see Sergiy, as well, soon after we meet? The wait is more than unbearable.
[...]
Will you distract me from myself and the waiting?
What is your day going to be today? How is the weather, is it warm? Are you meeting any friends tonight?
Tell me the most beautiful thing you see outside your home? (You can't say me, or Dodo, or anything in the video or photos. Something in front of you!)
Tell me something you like about yourself, besides what we spoke of - responsibility, social contract. Helpfulness and generosity.
[...]
May I tell you something? Only for comparison, so you understand why I stopped breathing when I realized you could understand Ukrainian. Then again when you said you would learn it.
That you learned Polish for your wife and children.
I haven't dated anyone who tried to learn. [...] Well, that isn't fair. One or two tried to learn phrases.
Very few people in my life speak my language.
Madeline refused; sheSergiy does, of course. But he learned from me.
Darius does. Enri seems inclined to learn, which is very sweet of him, unless Darius told him to do it, which is sweet in a different direction.
[...]
It's moving, Vevay, and you are wonderful. My comet, yes.
My -
[...]
Is it all right, what I called you? I don't care if Maksym or Iryna or my mother think it, but you see, I told Dodo, and she gets confused.
Silly word, 'boyfriend'. [...] I've never used it before.
Ah, and relating to this, and to words -
'Ya tebe kochayu' does not mean 'I you in love', no. Iryna speaks seven languages fluently, studied in a STEM field, plays the violin - but she speaks English like she has two brain cells less than the twins.
'I love you.'
I love y
Nova, Vevay, I
[...]
It means 'I love you' in the romantic sense, though, which is what she probably meant to say.
If you don't want to text her, you can say this. If you do want to, that's also okay. She teases, but doesn't lie very well, and she isn't cruel to her friends. [...] Ah, but she does steal, so don't have important things near to her.
I never did find Senan's wallet.
Well, that's what he gets for fucking her.
video!
Nova’s seated on a sofa, one leg curled beneath himself. Looking a little bit sleepy but terribly, terribly pleased. He waves at the camera, a gentle back and forth of his hand, as he speaks. ]
Ey, Talik.
Good morning to yourself.
[ There’s a moment in which Nova seems to be gathering his thoughts. Starts to speak, pauses, tries again, laughing slightly to himself. ]
Pressure’s on, hey? Naught but what I’ve put on my own self, fuck me I’m not one for nerves often but there’s something I’d thought to say and there’s my thoughts gone racing to the wind, or what I mean’s I think of you speaking ‘morning’ and I think you hearing it from I and…
[ He’s smiling to himself as his eyes drift away from the camera briefly, hand rubbing at his temple then running through his hair before Nova snaps his fingers, points upward and looks back to the camera with a pleased grin. ]
Got it! Oughtta’ve been clear as day, or it is, long’s I can keep from daydreaming for half a minute.
Watched your vid five times over, I did. Good to hear your voice. Good to see you, and fuck if I’m not charmed fifty more times over with you every watch.
Here’s a truth for you: When you said it ‘yes,’ after that brother of yours asked’s the video for your boyfriend. …Maksym? Maksym.
Aye, and then you saying it, there with Dodo, ‘my boyfriend.’
Stopped my heart sharp, that’s truth.
Stops my thinking, recalling on it.
You asked is it all right and I’ll add to that asking do I want it, and the answer to both’s aye, and aye again.
I’d like to be your boyfriend, Talik. Like you to be mine.
That’s, eh, chłopak speaking Polish, the which I’m mentioning as it looks to be or eh looks it could be similar, speaking Ukrainian. Like I said, working on that. Point is ‘boyfriend’ suits me well and I’d like it.
…Fuck me. ‘Boyfriend,’ that’s good to say.
[ A lift of his eyebrows, brightening of his grin, and Nova extends one hand toward the camera, palm up. ]
Ey, be my boyfriend, Talik? Let me call you so?
[ His hand’s at his hair again, ruffling, and Nova looks to the side, first biting his lip, then laughing softly, shaking his head before looking back again. ]
Couldn’t help myself, there. Overcome, that’s what I am, now and again and again. The effect of you— My Talik.
[ He cants his head slightly, expression inquisitive, now himself seeking approval and at once feeling the stagger of those words. ]
My Talik. Christ alive, what you do to me.
…Shite. Right, right right right, best keep moving or I’ll have you here an hour and more. Not that I’ve argument against it, only eh your sibs might hunt me down I keep you from them too long, aye?
So fair’s fair, you show me yours I show you mine. Can’t intro you to anyone really. Nobody but mi’sen— Eh, fuck, myself to introduce you for but I’ll give you that tour, yeah?
Right so. Main room.
[ He’ll stand and give the camera a slow scan of the room, which is cluttered but kept clean, everything in its place even if that precise place is clear only to Nova’s mind. The camera pauses as it slides to a folding chair and a cello, a stand with sheet music set beside it. ]
There he is.
[ There’s movement now, the camera rustling and nearing the instrument, then Nova’s hand reaching out to gently pluck a string. ]
Eridanus, or Erid.
First I had, that one was my aunt’s, she’d called it Aquila. Figured it’s only right keeping on the constellation convention. And there’s something to be said for music played as water flows, but I've no talent for speaking it as it ought be spoken.
Anyway. Erid. You’ll be hearing from him, aye? We’ve got songs for you or eh, a song at the least, though being honest you’ll find it tricky stopping me once I’m started in.
[ A quick turn back to Nova, who winks - not an exaggerated wink in this case - as he speaks. ]
Hazards of having myself for your boyfriend, aye?
[ The camera resumes its scan of the room, and Nova continues speaking as he takes Vitaly through the small storage area, bathroom, with a glimpse as well of the bedroom, the tidiest room in the place. ]
Not so bad at all, this place. Lucked in on it as, right, see the lady owns it’s mum to a couple blokes making their way in the wide world of Burn Bridge. Had me out for fettling a houseful of fucked wires, happens they were pleased with the work or the chatter or I don’t ken what, but it was them put me onto this place. Sort of a garden shed turned rental situation, aye?
She ain’t bad, the old lady. Mrs. Milburn’s the name of her. I take care of plumbing, electrics, general repairs for her, yardwork sure. Cuts down on rent and she leaves me mostly to my doings, gives rein for fitting it out as I like long’s it’s in code.
Beats to shite the last place I had, leaky it was and moldy no matter the fixes done, and landlord was on my arse 24/7 over ‘the caterwauling,’ which I’m guessing’s the cello though the neighbors said naught about it and claimed to give nary a damn.
No troubles playing here, praise be to fuck.
[ Throughout this telling, he’s interjected comments about the scene around, pointing out a window that catches the late afternoon sun just right, a blanket knitted by a fellow musician, a corner where he caught a mouse just the other day, then set it running wild outside, noting he’s counting the days before it shows its oversized ears again.
He’s reached the kitchen now, and here he zeroes in on an old crayon drawing stuck to the fridge. It seems to depict a house and four somewhat distinguishable stick figures, two smaller and two taller, all holding hands. Nearby there are flowers and trees and flowers on the trees, and there’s something clearly meant to be a cat with maybe a bright pink bow at its neck. In the paper’s corner, a sun shines bright rays, and there’s what might represent an airplane or a bird or just a crayon’s focus gone astray. Here there’s a sound from behind the camera, what might be a throat clearing or a way for filling space, and then— ]
Might be you’ve figured, but this, eh— This’d be one of theirs. Nicky and Liza’s, sat down for drawing it together. Roza’s got one like it, made a little later on, but—
Right.
[ The camera resumes its movement, heading back to the main room. Nova’s quiet for a few steps, then— ]
You asked what’s beautiful outside, and I’ll get to there, but for what’s beautiful within, it’s what you saw just there.
Erid’s a close second.
[ The camera’s turned back to Nova, who’s leaning against a window frame, nodding toward the yard outside. He speaks next in a hushed voice, drawing verrrry slightly back against the wall, as if to be covert. ]
For what’s beautiful outside, and since my boyfriend’s taken it on hisself to nix his own visage from the answer pool—
Aye, caught me there Talik, and before I’d even said a thing! Your name being out the pool doesn’t make you any less stunning, that’s truth, nor’s it change the way your voice reverberates through me, sits and stays within me.
You’ve a hell of a voice, Talik, but then like I said, you’re a hell of an everything.
If I’m on the hook for saying something else beautiful, here, over here. Quiet-like though, no good spooking em.
[ The camera’s turned to look through the window, where there can be seen a birdhouse and fountain, as well as a feeding platform. A number of small bright birds hop around on the platform, pecking up seeds and bits of fruit. At the fountain, a bit removed from the rest, a magpie perches and chatters to itself.
It sounds as though Nova’s about to speak, then there’s a sound of pleased realization, and the camera returns to his face. ]
Talik, here’s a favor. Put Dodo on a moment, got something to tell her ey? Show her just as well.
Dodo. Ey up Dodo! It’s Vevay, that’s your dad’s boyfriend aye?
[ There’s Nova waving at the camera, then there’s a scan over the yard, then back to Nova. ]
See this here? Anytime you’ve the bug to dig a hole, got plenty of yard waiting for your paws here. Well eh, not so much yard, happens, but it’s ripe soil for digging, that’s so.
Okay Dodo, here’s me letting you back to your business, and asking you to please and kindly send my boyfriend back!
Talik, you back with me? Talik? Okay, back to birds.
[ And the camera’s back to the yard, and the birds still going about their bird business on the platform and fountain. ]
Put those in a couple years back, so we’ve been getting visitors seasons-round. Pretty little things, they are, and there’s worlds in their communications. The one with the yellow head there, just dropped a seed, that’s Finster. Then on the fountain, the magpie? That one’s Sharpe, favors walnuts and egg, left me a bottle cap the other day.
…Don’t know they count for beautiful. But I do like watching them birds, and nay, I’ll go with they’re beautiful. The magpie’s feathers, never seen a purple like flickers from them.
[ Turning the camera back on himself, where his eyebrows have gone raised, and he can’t suppress what might just be a shit-eating grin. ]
Ey, Talik. You ever hear what keeps corvids stuck together in flock?
[ He lets that sit. Lets that sit. Then— ]
Vel-crow.
Aye, and the hummingbird hums cause it don’t know the words to the tune.
[ There’s another wink, then—
Well. The briefest pause before Nova sets his fingers to his lips, then flicks them toward the camera in a gently breezed kiss. ]
Speak to you soon, my Talik.
Thinking of you always.
1/2
My Vevay, I can’t respond right away this morning; we’re moving things for my parents.
I would have more time, but I watched over and again, then showed Dodo. And my siblings. And my mother, which led to questions.
Quickly though!
Yes, yours. Your Talik, your boyfriend, your anything. Yours, yours, please, let me be this. My heart knows the rightness in it. Seeing you, hearing you say my name, seeing beauty through your eyes, I
FuckingI have to go do this before Andrii has a fit, but after, I’ll say more. I had to tell you, though, because the look you gave-
I’m yours, Nova.
2/2 - Several hours later
We would be done completely, but they want to go out for dinner and we all need to shower. So, I’ll shower last in the coldest water because it gives me time with you, eh?
Don’t worry; it will be nice. It’s hot here today. Summer months, climate change, and so on.
I am, by the way, still yours.
[…]
How can I say anything to do this video justice, eh? Look at you, perfect and silly and somber - how much life there is in your home. History and sadness, yes, but the things that give you joy, also.
Do you think we could sit together someday by the window with the good light?
Maybe outside, where I promise to be quiet so I can see your birds for myself.
[…]
Something more I want to say: if there are hazards with you, that you love music isn’t one, and I want whatever else there may be. (I think the only real hazard is that you haunt me, that longing is gathering close in my lungs and aching my chest.)
I could die on the sound of your voice alone - and be revived again because that voice spoke my name.
[…]
You asked about the word for ‘boyfriend’; it’s similar, yes. I’ll say it for you when I see you - or in another video.
[…]
One thing more, this a courtesy of Sergiy:
Why does Mozart hate chickens?
Because they say “Bach, Bach, Bach”.
1/2
My Talik, my boyfriend, the only hand I want here in my own.
Only man I want beside me at the window’s best light, let me see the way it strikes you and then keeps you, holds you, let me see and have that image always. Very like a photo, all for the taking on my self.
Only man I’d like to be out watching birds with, and no worry about quiet or convo, the ones come around most know my face and voice, won’t scatter once I’m there and happens they might get to learn your also. Eh, Dodo they might take fright from, but Dodo’s got precedence over the birds, who can always swing by later.
Say IRight so just a thought experiment like or nay, not that at all andSay we’re out watching the birds, sat [ … ] side by side, yeah? (Had to take a moment on that thought alone. Just to sit beside you, that’s it’s own euphoria, something simple and not simple in the least.) We’re there watching birds or really just watching our selves, and say I were to lean a little over, just eh, set my head against your shoulder. Sort of rest it there.Is that all right, do you think?
I’d like it, is my meaning.
Ey, see and we sit like that long enough, let the sun pass down, might spot a hedgehog or two as well. Cute little trundlers, them.
I’d like very much to sit with you here, and elsewhere, anywhere at all. Like to be with you wherever you go, that’s a truth unceasing. [ … ] Might bear saying I ain’t attached to keeping in Yorkshire for all my days. I’m here because it’s what I know and where I’ve been and I like this place I’ve got now, but it’s no environ I’ll wither apart from.
Just, eh, information for filing aside, might be. Should there be any curiosity upon the point.
Here’s information for your self, as well as an answer to a prior query. I’ve rehearsal a couple hours out, and there’s no small chance I’ll be sharing that video around some. People’ll be curious, and I’ve no wish for keeping mum on you. Been talking about you as it is. Been caught fixed on your messages, prodded back to earth and into playing, so what I’m saying’s plenty of em know of you.
There’ll be drinks tonight after, a clutch of us typically go out. Gripe about the principals and the conductor who’s been up his own arse of late, let gossips give their gossip. Last we did drinks, earlier this week, I talked of naught but you and couldn’t tire of it. May’ve chatted some ears off, but then I don’t get the sense they minded.
Well. This night, I’ll call you as my boyfriend, and they’ll know you as such. c:
Also goes for saying, I’m, eh, I’d say pleased, but truth’s more like honoured, warmed in heart by your sharing that video around. Knew you’d show Dodo, never doubted for a moment and I’m pleased she got her message. That offer by the by stands infinite, or for long as I live here. Mrs. Milburn’s got no arguments against holes long as they’re filled in after, and that easy work.
Questioning go all right, Talik? Eh, Iryna, right I went and messaged her, she spoke something of it. (Said a lot of things, she did. Your sister’s an intense one, no shaming meant in that at all and fact is I’d say the opposite, strength to her in her approaches.) Seemed it went all right outside, so more what I mean’s you all right after the questions?
Something else your sister said, about you holding a line, keeping hush what’s mine for speaking. [ … ] I appreciate that. Likely you can guess as much, and I’d not’ve been vexed if you’d spoken further, figure your fam’s solid for trusting. Still and all, it’s a kind of [ … ] or I feel it like guarding, guardianship. And that warms me all over again.
You are a beautiful man, heart and mind and body all, and I’ll say it so long as I feel it’s so, which means you’ll be hearing it always, no help to be had for it it’s simply truth.
Here though, dense question but knowing my own self and knowing the way google’s fucked itself, your sister said I can go ahead and call her Irisha, eh the exact putting of it in Polish was ’You can call me Irisha.’ My question being, is the case that I, eh, call her so in direct addressing only, or as well in referring to her outside her say presence? Sorry to put the question you, just I’d prefer getting it right as I can and keep my own foot from my mouth where possible. Truth to say I’m a bit wary I’ve done that already by proposing Polish, not sure how I came off or it I made it sound she’d not be capable of working through the English, which I know ain’t the case.
Well, eh. Sometimes I do step in it, that’s sure.
!!! Shite, before I go forgetting! You and your Sergiy got me with that chicken joke there. Well played to you both, and likely I’ll be spreading that around the rehearsal as well as the fact of my boyfriend.
Ey, here’s one for the lad. Mozart’s most known as a Classical composer, but the sad truth is he died Baroque.
And another, with what ornaments do composers adorn their lawns?
Metrognomes, of course. c;
2/3
Well and for the records, I’ve no grudge against that slipping time. It’ll fly whilst occupied with thoughts, words, and videos of boyfriends, aye? And the swifter it flies, the nearer New York waits. Calling those time slips a benefit, then, and I thank you for them, Talik.
Right, so you’ve said there’s life in my home here, and I like that, like to try to keep that. Bears saying though that there’s life in your own, and moreover that there’s life in you yourself. Talik, looking at you, thinking on you’s like glimpsing at a beacon, shining all the brighter for the fog’s clouds that’ve caught around you, yes? Aye, and there’s more to it, because that light’s as well the sort of glow a candle gives, soft, poignant, no less magnificent nor riveting than the central focus of a wildfire.
Majestic and sustaining, that’s your light, or happens there’s a part of it.
[ … ]
It fucks me off that you’ve been handled with such disregard and outright malignancy. That the heart of you’s had cause for hiding. That you’ve been driven back into that fog.
Won’t linger on it. Only it’s well past unfortunate. Well beyond fucking unfair and ill given.
What I ask’s you let me keep reviving you. From any murder my own voice might give, that of course, and from whatever past hurts I can beat against. What I promise is I will. Revive as fully as I can, and just as often.
Revivify and Vevay’s not so far apart, aye? Happens you came upon the ideal calling for myself, or one matching my intent.
Here, let’s rise you up out of that haunting straight away. Because nay I won’t have you strangled and there can’t be so much haunting when your boyfriend’s only weeks away. And reaching closer every day, ah fuck me, every minute.
There’s no need for ghosts when your Vevay’s yours, hey?
No room for ghosts, when you’ve your Sergiy, your Dodo, your family, your Vevay all.
We’ll get all things healed, my Talik. I’ve belief in you and I, in us.
3/3
Ever since you spoke it first, got me thinking of my Talik in the shower.
Liable to knock me senseless all over again, shite.
Right! Running off!
[ ... ]
🧡🧡
no subject
no subject
While grinning to himself and yes laughing again yes he is permitted! ]
No worries there, Talik, and I'm ahead of you.
Got a nice steamy shower in this imagination of mine. Only seemed fair! c;
1/?
Not that the cold really detracts, but[...]
[...]
🧡
[...]
🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
Iryna's right, I'm behaving like a teenage
But Vevay, I love you so - as I've never felt for
It's been a week. One week.
But we've said so much, I feel I've known you for a lifetime
Do you believe words are enough to inspire love
What if you don't care for me
What if I'm not what you hope
[...]
Thirteen days. Less than this.
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3/3 BUT NOVA IS NOT THROUGH WITH U
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3/3 An Update
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text to Iryna
This is Nova. From the texts, eh. Vitaly’s Nova?
Seeing as you asked andCan’t say’s I know what to[ … ]
Seeing that I'm new to Ukrainian and my English isn't what's called standard. Talik mentioned
you’vethere’syou know seven languages, something like that.[ In Polish— ]
Is Polish one you have?
Sad to say I only know these two. Sort of know.
text from Iryna
You’ll learn Ukrainian.
I mean this without teasing because Vitya […] has never been comfortable, never easy with romance. He won’t talk about Sergiy’s bitch of a mother, and he only introduced one other boy to us after dating him for a year. A year, Vasha.
(Don’t worry. He didn’t love him. Nice man, but not right for Vitya.)
Most of the time he just stops talking when we ask him questions unless he has a good answer. He […] turns smaller. Do you understand how I mean? He shrinks but inside himself.
Not when we ask about you. He told our mother anything she wanted to know, except -
We saw your video just this morning. Eh, he showed us, we didn’t steal the phone again. He said something when Mama asked about the drawing and where is your family. He told us those are your children, you’re not married, but anything more, it’s your privacy.
[…]
He didn’t shrink or stop speaking. He told our mother he wouldn’t answer her. Do you understand the difference?
You don’t have to tell me your private information, I don’t care what this thing is. I’m telling you why I know you’ll learn Ukrainian.
You open something in him.
And you’re stupid for each other.
And you call him Talik. Only we call him that, and only to him. […] He let you use it.
You know his wife calls him Vitaly? Not Vitya, or Talik, or Honey, or Baby. Always Vitaly even when they were only dating.
I don’t like her. I told her this the first thing right when I met her. The last time I saw her, I told her I hope her cunt rots. I learned this in English just to tell her, because does she learn Ukrainian for us or her son or her husband? No. “I hope your cunt rots.”
I practiced it for a week.
Anyway.
You make him laugh. The quiet kind, the one when you have something private and soft to laugh over. How you keep laughing in this video, too.
You keep doing that - and learn Ukrainian - and I’ll never say your dick should fall off.
Also: The way you two old men are saying ‘boyfriend’ about each other like you’re sixteen is gross. 🤢🤢
😉
You can call me Irisha. If you stay with him, we can talk about Irishka.
[…]
My violin is Zoe. There’s no story. She just feels like a Zoe.