Monday, April 27, 2009

FFFFFFFUUUUUU-

I live in the past. IM logs are the devil's own device. My eye is trying to escape and take most of my skull along with it. Somebody just fuckin' shoot me and stop this headache.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Signed With Initials

Originally titled "The Friend Zone", a title which later went to an entirely different story. A more descriptive title would be "Emo High", but fuck you, this title means something to me. Written in Fall of 2008. I'm not usually in the habit of asking non-rhetorical questions in this blog, but feedback is highly appreciated, either positive or critical, so what do you think?





I know that when you tell me it’s you, it’s me. The cliches abound. You don’t want to involve me in the drama of your life, you tell me. I’m a very nice guy, you wish me the best of luck in life, and I’m going to find somebody, someday. The implication that “somebody” could never be you is clear. You tell me this condescending bullshit with a pouty face; for a moment I wonder if you believe what you’re spouting or if you’re simply going through the motions of establishing the “friend zone.” I’m sure that this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, you appeal to the kind of man who can never have you and your words seem almost rehearsed. You make sure to emphasize my good qualities, few though they may be. You're so smart, you tell me. You try for humor and tell me that chicks dig brainy guys. You speak at length while I fiddle with the pen in my fingers and try not to scan the parking lot, absent anything else to do or anything to say. If I tell you the truth, that I’d gladly handle any baggage you bring, I become pushy and obsessive in your eyes. That isn’t far from the truth, frankly, but it’s not conducive to a working friendship. I don’t aim to burn any bridges, so I voicelessly endure the litany of reasons why it’s your fault you don’t want to be with me, while I click my pen and lick my lips and try not to look as empty as I feel.
You spoil what had been a fairly clean dismissal with a few simple words at the end, an afterthought better left unsaid. You tell me that you have feelings for me and my stomach drops. Before you can go on, I stop you cold. I say, you shouldn’t have told me that. I wish you hadn’t told me that. I can barely get the words out; they’re very unsteady, but I make them clear enough to understand. I finally work up the gumption to look into your eyes and I see frustration creep in. No doubt, you think that you were doing me a service by validating my feelings and that I should quit while I’m ahead, while you still want to remain friends. When you ask what I mean by that; I want to be quiet; I want to restrain myself and tell you that it’s just hard and confusing for me and that I really appreciate what you’re doing. I don’t do that. I instead tell you in a steady voice that I wish you didn’t feel the need to lie to me. Your forehead crinkles and your eyes narrow, your mouth comes ajar and your face is angrier than I’ve ever seen it. Red creeps into your skin. I reflexively flinch when you step toward me, big tough man that I am. You grab my ridiculous hair and kiss me so hard that our teeth clack together painfully. You wipe your mouth and storm toward your car. I follow, but your legs are longer and with the head start, you’re in your car before I’m within twenty feet. Days later, I realize that if I had yelled to you that my gum was still on your dash, I very well could have made you laugh and maybe our first kiss wouldn’t have been our last.

I have given up.

Fuck you, guitar. It's been MONTHS, and I am hardly better than when I started.

I can't stop singing it.

Idiocy which I sort of hope nobody reads.

I was ditched last Friday on a date with firecrotch. After about an hour, she told me to sit tight and went to speak with her ex, who had just arrived. Ten minutes later, a friend of hers who I know tells me that she just saw them leave in his car. I drive home and drink myself into a rage.

Time passes, she doesn't quite realize why I'm so mad. She thinks that it's jealousy (instead of the fact that she fucking ditched me); that when we slept together, I felt a connection. I relieve her of this misconception, but she ends the night by telling me that she DID feel a connection, and that she thinks I did too.

We talk more this week. Friendliness creeps in. She offers to come over, asks if I want to hang out.

I sent a text to the FC tonight, asking her to come over and help me with my term paper. By which I meant, casual hate sex. The message didn't send because I barely ever have a signal inside my house. I didn't resend it. All I would have to do is tell her that I too felt a connection, and I am nearly certain I could have had sex tonight.

I have fallen for the less pretty, less smart, corny-as-hell romantic, 40 year old. Times, they are a changing. Or maybe not. Because, let's face it, kids, Lisa is the sister-in-law I had a crush on for years mixed with the ex-not-quite-girlfriend-who-I-loved-very-much I confide in these days. Am I really dating her, or am I dating those two by proxy? The more I fall for her, the more I begin to worry that it's just Christina and Amy I'm falling for all over again. The deeper I go, the more important the question becomes, and the less sure I am of the answer.

It hurt both more and less than I thought it would. Not the sudden, drooping, raging depression of last time. More of a black greasy feeling. So I've grown. Not much, but some.

One day, I will have the courage/stupidity to be utterly frank in my blogging. Until then, I leave you with a short selection of things I didn't create but which I feel connected to.

Because it's slow and pretty.


Because it's poppy and dumb.


Because it's excellently done.


Because I'm emo.


Because Joaquin may be a crazy bastard these days, but he can direct a video.


Because it is my new philosophy. James is a showtune, for instance. Kate is something sinister and orchestral. Taylor is a Spice Girls reunion song. Lisa is a poppy single on a rom-com.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

My favorite movies, in no particular order, and other shit nobody cares about.

I realize that many of these are less than a decade old. I don't care, fuck you, it's my list. At least I don't have any Pirates of the Caribbean films. I don't subscribe to the theory that something has to age to be considered great; a good movie is a good movie. I've seen a lot of movies, I have no way to accurately state how many but I would guess several hundred. This is based purely on my VHS/DVD collection, which is pretty large for poor white trash. I've seen movies people consider great, from most all decades. I haven't seen what Roger Ebert calls the "official answer" for greatest film of all time, Citizen Kane. I haven't seen very much pre-war cinema, and only a bit from the 50's and 60's. The majority of my viewing centers on the late 70's to mid 90's. I'm no professional critic, I just like them. Later on, I will post a guilty pleasures list, which is a heck of a lot less contemporary than this one.

The Wizard of Oz

Stalag 17

Aliens

The Big Lebowski

Terminator 2: Judgement Day

Casino Royale

The Shawshank Redemption

The Dark Knight

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

Superbad

Saving Private Ryan

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

A quick note on the present.

My last post was about women of the past, here is one about the women of the present.

Went on three dates last week, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Names are used, because, honestly, the people who read this will probably never meet the people I'm talking about

Lisa was a delight on Thursday. We talked about our lives. We drank. She, being half my size, got rather tipsy and began singing in her highly pleasing voice. Morning Train, at my request. It was hot.

Kayla was nearly as self-involved as I am. I was bored then, but really, how can I begrudge her obsession with herself when I am such a posterboy for egotism? She really seemed to have a good time.

Bekah. So much fun. We got smashed. Her friend was driving us to my house, but couldn't understand my directions. We decided to walk the short distance left. She was stumbly, so I gave her a piggyback ride. Upon arrival, we did finger painting and other neat activities. It was rad.

None of the three are dating me exclusively, so I feel fairly okay with dating them all at once. For now, anyway. I think I may soon reach the point, however, where I like one of them too much to date other women. Which one, though? The cougar, the milquetoast, or the firecrotch? How soon until I edit this post heavily when I decide to show the blog to one of them?

Jealousy? In my romantic life? It's more likely than you think.

I am jealous of my Amy's boycrush. I have the sneaking suspicion she is jealous of my girlcrush(es). She says "bitch" every time I mention them doing something which endears them to me. The beautiful, drunken singing of one. The late-night drunken indiscretions with the other. Lots of drunken, thinking about it. But then, considering that I am differently-abled when it comes to looks, I can't exactly blame them. I guess what I'm trying to say here is, I've made a few gestures toward Amy since we've started speaking again, and they were not returned, so neither of us are beholden to the other.
(There is also the distinct, even likely possibility that my suspicions are ego driven nonsense.)

I am even more jealous of my ex-wife's boycrush.

I hadn't spoken to Kate in a long time (for us, anyway) until recently. She called me last week and asked when our son's spring break was, and if he would be interested in spending it with her. It broke my heart in no small way to tell her that it had been the week before. They rarely get to spend time together, after all. I arranged for my younger brother to drive his nephew to Albuquerque, to spend a long weekend with Kate. A good time was had by all, apparently. Kate has been more open with me recently, apparently deciding to ignore the huge unpleasant mess from the beginning of the year which began our short estrangement. We've been talking, at the very least. Today, she called me and we spoke for over two hours. It was nice. I love Kate in the sense that I care very deeply about what happens to her, if not in the romantic sense. Apparently, she's been dating a new boy pretty much since we broke things off in January, and it's gotten quite serious... John gave him the once-over, and says that he is not an asshole. I have trouble believing this, since I don't think Kate has ever, ever dated a nice guy.

Why am I jealous of people I don't even know, who are making people I very much like happy?

1,000:1 - I am fairly certain that these new boys are Illuminatus.

500:1 - I think that I could give either of them a better life than their boycrushes.

200:1 - I would like to initiate a threesome at some point in the future.

100:1 - I have a big brother instinct, which demands that I protect my friends from outsiders.

10:1 - I have not-so-suppressed feelings for both women which I'm (vaguely) hiding from them.

2:1 - I hate any attention which isn't directed toward me.

EVEN MONEY - I am a posessive prick.