Conversations

by myself.

I lead an empty, pointless life.

Feels good to finally say it, huh?

Actually, no. Now I feel worse. Now, in the short history of my as-yet wasted time on this planet, I will remember this moment as the moment when I finally realized that, and did absolutely nothing to change it.

This is about the boy, isn’t it. No – its about the 10 pounds you’ve put back on. No, wait, it’s the demoralizing job serving spicy wings to fat families and Abercrombie clones. Or, its about the

Shut up.

possible drinking problem.

Actually, that’s really been helping me deal with all three of those things. And directly causing two of them. And, kind of a result of the other one.

You’re just pouting because…

wait, why are you pouting?

I don’t know. I thought I’d gotten over all these “caring about what I’m doing with my life” moments. Its just that sometimes, I think that maybe my desire to be an adult directly conflicts with

Your paralyzing fear of actually having to act like one? Taking responsibility for your own life? Knowing what you want and then perhaps even trying to get it? Maybe even being a positive force for

Shut up.

change?

Now why would I want to do that, when I’m so happy already.

You know, you’re much smarter than you give yourself credit for. But what you don’t realize is how dumb you are.

Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be making sense here?

Very funny. And, by the way, I can see that.

…

What?

You switching windows to get on the internet and check Myspace or imdb or some completely irrelevant thing.

…

Sorry, that time I was in the bathroom. But, I’ll have you know that someone who I didn’t even think liked me just sent me a myspace message. One of the nicest guys I know. And, as far as I know, he does not want to have sex with me. Or at least he knows that I would never have sex with him.

Well congratulations. You found a sure fire way to find guy friends. Find a band whose music you can stand to listen to, fuck one of them, and then hang out with the other ones who know that if they tried to touch you, they would either get the shit kicked out of them or make every band practice incredibly awkward.

Yep - I’m a genius.

Speaking of incredibly awkward, what ever happened to those two guys from the same band that were trying to sleep with you?

I slept with one of them, and the other doesn’t hang out with me anymore.

Ah.

But they don’t practice.

So it all worked out then.

If by working out, you mean that I risked contracting some freaky kind of male slut virus and sabotaged what could have been two perfectly fun, flirty, friendships with guys who I for some reason respect very much, then yes.

You’re trying to tell me that you were going to be friends with those guys?

Absolutely.

And doesn’t being someone’s friend mean being honest and open and not keeping secrets?

For the most part.

And wouldn’t that entail telling them that you just wanted to be friends?

Damn that honesty stuff again.

And what happened as soon as both these guys realized it wasn’t going to happen? Or, for one of them, happen again?

I see your point.

What you need is to put off having the sex, and try to find a responsible, attractive, mature, grounded, Man who doesn’t play music and is seeking relationships. Also, it’d be nice if he was a masseuse.

Well, now that you mention it, I did meet someone fitting that exact description.

No shit!

And, I think he likes me.

How can you tell?

He fucked the shit out of me on Saturday.

…

I know. You know how when I feel really stupid or bad about something I visualize creative ways of ending my life with sharp, usually shiny objects?

I particularly like the fork in the eye one.

Yeah, well, thinking about Saturday night makes me want to do something along the lines of bashing my brains out with my laptop.

That’s not actually shiny.

Shut up.

So, I take it he hasn’t called?

Thanks for reminding me.

Hm. I guess even a good guy can still be a jerk. But what the hell were you expecting? You let these guys fuck you, faking your physical happiness, in the hopes of having a relationship where you can fake your emotional happiness too?

I didn’t fake being happy with my ex. At least not for the first couple of months. Excluding the time when I was convinced he was going to dump me. So that leaves, lets see…

February.

Yes. February. It was a good month.

Lets hope.

-November 1^st, 2006. 10 pm.

How can the human mind possibly begin to know the flickering light of creation and destruction? Everything on this earth exists with the certainty of a life impermanent. Yet they have no memories of their birth, and no understanding of their death, and cannot know either.

We are born, but do not remember it, and we die, and cannot tell the tale.

We were bred to fear the unknown, and death perhaps is the ultimate unknowable thing.

If there is a god, perhaps his greatest gift to us was ignorance of our own end. For that, I am eternally grateful. Alive, the world seems bristling with possibility. I am capable of anything. Like a flatlander who has never looked Up, the world I live in feels limitless.

I do not believe in a God. What I do believe in is the power of the human mind to utilize a Godly idea to bring fulfillment and joy to His people. If that God can carry us to a place in this life where our termination holds no fear, then He has served His ultimate purpose.

Maybe someday I will know that god. Maybe he will tell me to be strong, to life fully, to love wholeheartedly, to fill my life with joy and suffering and impossibility and wonder and grace.

Until then, I will struggle, with love, to understand for just one true moment, the miracle of one breath.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

at last

The Second Coming

TURNING and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born? 

-Yeats

Inside Out and Backwards

Woke up at an early 10 in the morning.  Domina, cranky with hunger, is swatting me in the face, mewing for breakfast.  Downstairs, my bright eyed and showered roommate looks at me, cocks her head and smiles.  

"Inside out, and backwards?"

I look down at my shirt, at the tag sticking erect from under my chin.  Indeed, it is.