I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night

Well, no.
Not really.
Even though tomorrow IS Labor Day here in the U.S.

I saw my master.
Just for a moment.

He may have inhabited my dream for longer than that, but that's all I remember. An image of how he was, crossing the street, the one and only time we met in his home town. I see him as he was, crossing the street from the train station, his tall body, his broad cautious face, his hair, long thick hair like mine is now... was there wind? I seem to see it caught by the wind.

He was my master then. So I say master now. Just for this dream.

He is my friend now. A very precious friend. We have made that decision - well, he made the decision to be nothing more than that, and I accepted the decision, and am committed to the friendship, and cherish it so yes, we made the decision.

I'm a little slow.
OK, I'm a LOT slow.
I just, as I wrote the previous paragraph, realized why I saw him and am having these thoughts.

Tomorrow, Labor Day, was to have been the end of the Summer Silence. The day of re-evaluation. The day to examine where we had been and where we were and where we were going. Except it already happened, on a day that is now hard to celebrate as an anniversary because it now marks both a beginning and an end.

I am so attuned to ritual and observances that my subconscious notes them for me should I turn my eyes away for even a moment.

Tomorrow, I suppose, we should celebrate our friendship.
Which is no small thing.
The philosopher doesn't really have friends.
Not close ones.
Not friends that aren't his siblings.
So I feel honored.
I have a number of friends.
And a few close ones.
But none like this.

So.
Friendship.

And yet.
I saw him last night.
And this morning,
when I came this morning,
I thought of him.
Whenever I cum,
whatever the immediate inspiration,
whatever the procedure that brings me there,
whenever I cum with those loud painful sobs
that burst from my lungs
that pour from my heart
sobs that cause Marko to jump from the bed

whenever i cum

i think of you.

You still own my orgasms
whether you want them or not.