In orf, you are all watching Sigur Ros . I am jealous. I'm making money at one of my favorite schools, but still, I wish I was with you. Instead, I took myself out on a date in my hotel room. listening to Agaetis Byrjun right now. its a lovely soundtrack for a lovely evening. I walked home from work, which was nice. I miss that about the city for sure. if I didn't have the best backyard ever, I would move to Ghent. I'm jealous of my Satya family, who ride their bikes down the cobble stone streets. If I wasn't poor, I'd move back to NYC. wait, no,...... if I was rich I would move back to NYC, no other way to live there but filthy rich.
anyway, I walked home, I did yoga in my hotel room. then I had to wash my work "clothes" in the stupid hotel bathtub. I don't like this fibroid one bit. its mess and inconvenience is dastardly, but at the same time, it shows my confidence, my appreciation for the human body and honestly, the clots are so cool. I marvel that they happen. I marvel at their texture. Rich and strangely animal or guttural. once, he said, " they look like little pieces of meat". I think all the time I wont find someone who gets it, any of it, like him. I didn't mean to start that shit, but its true. I hate that I cant be more at peace. at least I had it.
I tire of my stupidity but I write because it helps me sort through it. "Starálfur" is on now, fuck, I love it so. I tire of the same ole, but we are human and working through it is important yes? and emotion, silly or no is what we do. and I am trying. I had a nice night. after the tub cleaning, I moved on to fresh tomatoes from my friend's garden, a tortilla from Costco, mayonnaise from the hotel breakfast bar, sharp cheddar purchased at the gas station mart on the walk home( $3.13, ya'll woooooo), a yellow pepper from the wal mart and a shit ton of kale and arugula. yummmmmmm. oh, and a lovely Bordeaux. you didn't think id be without wine did you? I put on my new shirt and my favorite jeans. I felt good. I even lined my eyes with extra carbon. I looked good. then I ate, pontificated, and here I am: spilling useless information that is somehow exactly what is the most important.
mike text me during all of this to tell me my selfie was super sexy and that it was t0o bad that all the guys I know are hopeless. I love him. the conversation went on to the usual. told him I was taking myself out on a date and he said to be sure I fucked myself good. nice of him to say, that's a good friend. anyway eventually I replied "sex is ruining me". it sure is.
I had a nice night tonight. I liked myself. I had a good time dating me. but I am still, always haunted by wishing I had that human connection. interaction. cat and mouse. and I guess everything that has happened lately has me thinking so much of how I used to be. how I was when Wade, wrote the generic letter for all my suitors that said " while you are building an imaginary home in your mind, I am only thinking of your touch, I wont be there when the construction crew is finished" and I know for sure that my problem now is that I want. I never used to want. and ooooh how they flocked. so I told him " sex is ruining me". it is. wanting it makes me wish for another when what im supposed to be doing is learning to love myself. having it is only reminding me that im not good enough. and holy fucking shit, when did it become so unimportant to other people? isn't chemistry giant? I remember the days of college when I was banging the hot stoner and I had the most perfect body ever because the two of us were so interested in fucking each other that all I did was ride my bike to class and ride my bike to his dorm room. I remember nuked spaghettio's and shoveling in only 4 bites and then quickly hitting the bike again, their was this person to touch. to soak up, to say sweet things to, to taste, to lie next to. to soak up. that's it, really. the soaking up of someone you find fascinating. and who do I find fascinating now? the boy who has my heart who doesn't want it? the one who is off limits? the one who is such a great match but can't hang? the one who is only himself when he's drunk? what I have here, folks is exactly what mike said. a bunch of useless men. but the truth is what does it say about me? fuuuuuuuuuuuck. that's what im aways concerned about. its the stomach fat. the wrinkles and the wanting. no more wanting. if I bought some ruby slippers and clicked three times and posted to facebook, instagram and my blog "theres no place like not giving a fuck" "there's no place like not giving a flying fuck" "there's no place like not giving a flying fuck: would I return to that land of bliss?
stupid bliss? I simply don' t want the person that doesn't want to soak me up. stupid age ruining my possibilities. I think I will forever me fabulous in my mind, as long as I can figure out how to stop letting sex ruin me. Freud!!!! Help me please. I really did enjoy my date tonight.
ALERT. my drunk friends have returned to the hotel room. im going to enjoy them. whatever point I was trying to make is lost now to buzz' and i'll figure it out tomorrow.
