the crime comes last of all

an exercise in blurring the truth.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

make it yourself. do i look like i cook?

What's happening? Where is this going? Are we in this for the long haul, or is there something I don't know about beneath the surface? It's a metaphor. We're islanders, marooned on a beach and she says she's an expert in smoke signals who happens to hunt. But you only ever see her looking for food, and if she wasn't keeping you from going mad with hunger you'd probably kill her in a fit of cabin-fever induced paranoia. Lord of the Flies style.

Is it all just sparks and lights, showy dressage-ponies that do something, but not what you expect? This shouldn't be weird. This should be simple, and straightforward, and god damn you cannot keep turning over that she always says "I need a boy," never "I need a girl." There's this tiny, admittedly horny part of you that occasionally sits back and wonders if "I'm not ready for a relationship" means, "I don't have those with girls."

But then, it's all so mixed, and it's driving her insane, and there are so many more important things to be concerned with, like AIDS and tornadoes and potato crops and politics. But it's like that marble circling the drain, and that tug that means one of these days, she's going to fall off the brink and go down.

She suddenly sees why all the great writers were tortured by women. They make for a prolific life.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

i don't blame you for being you, but you can't blame me for hating it.

They're joking. Just horsing around. One woke up with funny bumps in his arm, they look like bite marks. The other jokingly asks if he's been over to visit that girl. You know, that girl he used to like, a fact to which he refuses to admit because he was rebuffed, although it wasn't so much a rejection as she thought he was neurotic and he thought she'd be more normal once she had a boy to snuggle. But no, no, the one hasn't been to see that girl. The other jokes, "If you ever wake up with bite marks, you know she snuck into your bed in the night." (Well, he said "raped." But the new turn of phrase classes him up)

You have to suppress the knee-jerk disagreement. "That's totally not true. She only bites if you ask."

Fall Out Boy - A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me"

Friday, September 23, 2005

walk me down your broken line

We open on a crocus, alone amongst long grass, a dark brick building in the background. Crushed by a ride-on mower.

Not that it desribes the events of today at all, and for once that's not even sarcasm. It's just. . .well, some people like to schedule and put things into boxes and study and understand. And some people like to squeak and have things just be their thingness, which doesn't really work. Also, you secretly feel like some people are fucking you as a placeholder while they desperately search for a boyfriend to prove to themselves that they're not gay. But that's a big, big secret, and sometimes you kind of like having those, because they're all yours and you can just tuck them away, between your heart and your spine and keep them warm. There's secret songs, secret trysts, secret dreams.

You had a dream last night about getting fucked in the ass by Pamela Anderson. If only somebody could help that secret come true.

Josh Radin - Closer

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

you live out where the street ends. . .

Fastidiousness that once held a vague zen charm is now irritating and neurotic.

Every time you disagree, it's met by a spat statement that you're not understanding what he was saying. "I'm not trying to have a discussion, I just thought it was funny." "I thought you didn't like x." "Oh, I guess I misinterpreted that conversation."

"When you use it in a derogatory fashion, I don't think it's funny, I just get offended."

You want to be nice, but he's moody and reminds you of yourself at fifteen, and you're sick to death of it.

Also, you are too having sex. He just doesn't know about it. He doesn't deserve to.

Sarah Harmer - Basement Apt.