I just choked on focaccia. I sucked it in, it teetered, everything slowed down, I coughed with what was left of the air in my lungs, it came back up. I was writing a note to my roommates when it happened. I’m going to take back the note.
Monthly Archives: June 2006
The love story between Lois Lane and Superman was complicated and tragic, depressing. I couldn’t help but make absurd connections between their love story and my own love life. Even though everyone else was cheering and excited, I left the movie feeling sad about the love story. I just couldn’t get over it. But, it’s Superman. Why do I even bother?
I went to sleep thinking about settling and intimacy and character and leaving gasping cats to die in people’s lawns.
For reals
The first two weeks we were neutral. The third week I liked him more, and he liked me more after the fourth week. Have I mentioned that relationships scare me?
Gpa said of the Russian, “I was quite impressed with the Russian. He’s a real person. He’s smart and quirky.” Gpa’s approval is all I need.
He’s just not that into you
Last night I told the Russian I wouldn’t be seeing him tonight because I’m planning on having an affair with the Canadian, who is passing through on his way to summer work. I believe in honesty. But, since he’s just not that into me, he didn’t seem to care. That, or he didn’t take me seriously.
finally, someone who can appreciate the fox fur coat
In other news, I’ve been dating the Russian—a fetish I picked up on Sundays at Boulevard Park, watching the Russian boys from some Slavic church playing soccer with their shirts off. Yes please!
in your endo
I’ve cried a little almost everyday for a week and a half, nothing specific to speak of. I can’t pinpoint it: sadness, melancholy, joy, gratitude. Life is overwhelming these days, and this time I cannot blame hormones.
Relationships are absurd. The lust, the love, the irrational loneliness when they are away. But, when I come to the realization, when I have to see them for who they really are and acknowledge that they are not my creation, I start to lose interest. Then the grotesque always comes later. The body next to me—I imagine it digesting food, gurgling, big feet and strange smells. Could it be true that I’m not physically attracted to other people, just myself and the character (of my creation) that I’ve imposed on the body that is next to me? I mean, I love them, I lust them, but once that wears off and he is no longer my creation, I lose some of that. I hope that my relationships are childish and immature and that this mentality will change.
realization
I date men who make good characters. To me, this is their most valuable quality. Unfortunately “characters” don’t always make good lovers. Or maybe they are people and I make them into characters. Either way it’s a pattern, it’s perverse.
Elin: “Nobody’s putting anything in me…Fingers maybe.”
The character of Agnes was hard to believe. She had such a young face that I couldn’t believe she was so sexually driven. I believed the crush, but some of the other stuff was hard for me. She looked too young to care about sexuality yet.
The film also manages to avoid the male pornographer’s gaze that can be so indicative of films about adolescent sexuality. (I’m thinking Kids here.) I think this voyeuristic view is avoided (somewhat) because the sexual scenes were limited and purposeful.