This week marks the official launch of this new site! I feel excited, like I’ve just got the keys to a new place, and the walls are freshly painted. I have lots of new photos up in the gallery, so feel free to browse around the site even if we’re old friends. And yes, I changed my name; aforementioned old friends are welcome to call me whatever they like.* In spaces of intimacy, names are less important than connections and conversations, I think. Take it from Tim Wheeler of Ash, writing these lyrics as a teenager in the mid nineties;
I remember the time
I knew a girl from mars
I don’t know if you knew that
Oh we’d stay up late playing cards
Henri Winterman cigars
Though she never told me her name
I still love you girl from mars
Sometimes I’ll spend an evening with a new lover and there’s a certain kind of electric conversational energy. We talk for hours and hours; about music, tech, sex, romance; anything. Or, we’ll immerse ourselves in play, and lose sight of the world for a few hours. It’s after these dates, usually the ones where I’ve made the most profound connections, that the minor details of the other person’s life tend to escape me. When I’m waiting with anticipation just before the next time we see each other, I can instantly recall our conversation. His hopes, beliefs, convictions. The way he touched me, or liked to be touched. The way he laughed or sighed. But it’s in in these moments I regularly forget names! Compared to all the powerful stuff, a name can be incidental.
That being said…you can call me Valerie.
Or, The Girl From Mars.