Beautiful, What can one say? But that.

Love letter to a fat man

http://men-in-full.livejournal.com/30026.html

How could anyone ever tell you
You were anything less than beautiful?
How could anyone ever tell you
You were less than whole?
- Libby Roderick, "How Could Anyone"


My dearest love,

Yesterday I learned that a vile woman wanted you gone(this site http://finance.sympatico.msn.ca/savingsdebt/insight/article.aspx?cp-documentid=6972004), eradicated from the face of the earth. To to hear that this world would be "more secure and content," supposedly "happier and healthier" without you, without your size in it, fills me with a bitter anger which I cannot contain.

She even set a price on your head, calculating how there would be so much more money if those - you and myself - who foul "their" lovely pristine world by taking up too much space in it, would simply disappear. You can almost hear the change rattling around in her pocket as she calculates how to spend it, as she covets the space and light and air not subsumed by your shadow.

I'm sure she would protest at that characterization. "Not gone," she would say. "Just changed. Made better."

Made not yourself.

Rarely have I seen anyone love this earth as you do. Not a scrap of resuable waste passes through your hands, that does not meet its proper destination. You put your hand to the earth and it blooms. Yet this flesh-hating miser says you use "too much" gasoline. A horse would better suit you, a great Percheron with white tail and mane braided with red ribbons, but instead you have driven the same small car for seventeen years, caring for it as if it were a beloved horse. Its small frame carries your big one on your daily rounds. Out on the roads, drivers steer blindly around you in their great behemoths of thirsty steel, chattering on cellphones.

She denies you the clothes on your back. When I hang your shirts out in the spring air, they blow like tents in the afternoon wind. Even at the end of the day I can still smell the sun on you, a tiny fragment of the day before.

Your body is not an ill body. I love to watch your strength as you carry wood, or dig a trench for pipe, or lay bricks for a garden path. But if seeds of death stir in you, as they can in us all, I will be there. "No one here gets out alive," the poet said. I hope this woman has someone to hold her on her own bed of pain when she lies down upon it for the last time, when she realizes that her own supposed virtues will not save her.

But enough of seeds of death. Her utter ignorance of the seeds of life drive her hatred. Nature has placed within us all a wide spectrum of difference, for the salvation of the species. If nature strikes one variety down, another is drawn from the bank of life to take its place. That is the wisdom of the natural world, a wisdom she does not recognize in her mad delusion to pound supposedly infinitely malleable human clay into her own preferred image, for money.

In the unkindest cut of all, she thinks that were your body changed to fit the dry contours of her own limited imagination, there would be more love. As you have grown in your flesh through the long years of our love, you give me more happiness than ever before. Every drop of oil she would deny you, you have more than made up for on cold winter nights, when all I needed was to bake my shivering limbs entwined in the furnace of your own, comforted by your soft heat. And if in that silent heart of the night, one form of heat generated another, that should come as no surprise to anyone.

When I was a girl my mother rolled out a story for me along with her pie crust, a story drawn from a book she had read. It told of a world where everyone was made in glass bottles, grown in laboratories and factories, where some had poisons added to their bottles to make them stunted and stupid. Later I read that book for myself. In that story, the maimers won, and the readers were warned.

To those horrors this writer would subject you, because her goals cannot be met in any other way, save by killing those genetic components which make one person's flesh what it is, unique from all others. At present we are safe, because she and her ilk are blissfully ignorant of how all flesh works, including their own. When they learn, though, I fear the battle lines truly will be drawn, because then they will call to prevent the passage of fat flesh into new generations. But what would be lost in that "brave new world?"

While I have breath, no one will deny you the right to be who you are, a man in full, a full man in every sense. For who can say that your kindness, your generosity, your genuine love of others, your fierce defence even of vulnerable strangers, are not in some hidden and poorly-understood way tied to your size? Perhaps these warm and good qualities which you show are not. But perhaps they are. Is it worth the risk, that our small corner of the world should be a sadder and bleaker place without them? Without all which makes you yourself?


Love,

Stefanie

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I just post the stories, for interest.. for everyone

Lord, what fools these mortals be!
- A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act III, Scene ii

Voltaire said: "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."

H.L.Mencken wrote:"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.”

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. Albert Einstein

Is there such a thing as unconditional love? truly?

Of course there is Rose!

Rose Red Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Is there such a thing as unconditional love?
> truly?

There is, but not all of us have seen it.

In "lesser" lifeforms is there conditional love. love without any expectations. In "higher" theres always a trade, a bargain

*********************************************************************************************************************************
I just post the stories, for interest.. for everyone

Lord, what fools these mortals be!
- A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act III, Scene ii

Voltaire said: "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."

H.L.Mencken wrote:"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.”

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. Albert Einstein

Techie Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Rose Red Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
> -----
> > Is there such a thing as unconditional love?
> > truly?
>
> There is, but not all of us have seen it.

To know such love is to be truly alive.

Rose Red Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Techie Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
> -----
> > Rose Red Wrote:
> >
> --------------------------------------------------
>
> > -----
> > > Is there such a thing as unconditional love?
> > > truly?
> >
> > There is, but not all of us have seen it.
>
> To know such love is to be truly alive.

It is all about being truly alive. One has to be truly alive in order to be able to pay alimony. I am certain to find exceptions, but in today's USA, it is about a business deal. Both parties generally want something from each other. When something is not reached, hell breaks loose. Today's people have no clue about acting like adults. Whining and crying has taken the main stream. Forget dedication and trust. Welcome to the world of weasels.

Techie Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
>>
> It is all about being truly alive. One has to be
> truly alive in order to be able to pay alimony.

You are a bad man

I
> am certain to find exceptions, but in today's USA,
> it is about a business deal.

Clinical, but true.

Both parties
> generally want something from each other. When
> something is not reached, hell breaks loose.
> Today's people have no clue about acting like
> adults. Whining and crying has taken the main
> stream. Forget dedication and trust. Welcome to
> the world of weasels.

And hidden agendas. And never knowing when to quit.

unfornatly what you see is what you get with me.. i dont do agenda's i know when to quit.. and when to fight..

*********************************************************************************************************************************
I just post the stories, for interest.. for everyone

Lord, what fools these mortals be!
- A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act III, Scene ii

Voltaire said: "Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities."

H.L.Mencken wrote:"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.”

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the former. Albert Einstein