9.28.2007

This post is for Renee [but you guys can read it, too].

Oh, fuck. Okay, so I've had an eventful few days. Don't believe me? Here's pic containing some of the evidence of this.


Yes, there have been beers, and there has been stuff, and the last five points I um...pointed out (no, I don't need a lecture, chatches) need to be more fully explained. List, bitches. The long version.

1. Fuck, man. The whole "Open Letter" thing has been decidedly crazy. On a side note, I'd like to thank all my new readers for visiting and linking and commenting and the like.
One new reader specifically begs to be highlighted. I'd like to officially introduce The Psychiatrist, a fellow blogger whom I hope you will hear more about. Damn, I love other bloggers. It makes me feel a bit less insane to know other people have a simlilar obsession with something so intrinsically dorky. From some e-mails traded between us as of late:

Thanks for your comments, and yeah, the girl might just be a bit loca, but she's oh-so-cute and nice it fucking kills me. She's got to get her shit together though. Maybe it's lay low and see what she thinks rather than turn up the heat on her. Anyway, I'm, uh, sure you're not crazy at all. You just happen to like The Dark Crystal; my uncle did the sound for that movie back in the day. But I digress.
Other things - white boys like me can have nice asses and good jeans, I do. But for that matter, I'm only half, so wadda do.
Otherwise, neighborwise, I think there's a bit too much fucking going on for it not to crash and burn. Or perhaps that's over with? Eh?
Query: After a break up, how long does it usually take a girl who's been f'd over by a jerky boyfriend of 3.5 years to finally get her act together and open up again, but this time, to a regular nice dude and not some jerk?
What sort of jelly filling flavor are you, by the way? Cherry? Creme? Som'in' else?

Over and out from the Haight.


and my response:

J--
1. My so called friends say I look like a mix between Regina King and Rosario Dawson. Whatever. They both have way bigger boobs than me.
2. Actually, I don't like the Dark Crystal at all. I LOVE IT. It's my all-time favorite movie. On a side note, I'm actually not that crazy. I think. I might just be in denial.
3. Oh yes, I agree--the downstairs neighbor is a prime example: 6'5", funny, smart, nice ass, nice jeans. Unfortunately, He's just a wee bit my junior, and I'm afraid we must now keep it on the platonic tip.
4. Yes, yes, yes. Pretty much over--trying to get one last good story out of it and then it must invariably commence to crash and burn. On the upside--I think I did pretty good this time. Kinda got out of my box a little, no pun intended.
5. That's a tough one...some come out of them quickly and immediately see their freedom as a new lease. I generally fall into this category. Some dwell on the past for far too long comparing every bad attribute of thier current partner to the previous one leaving them unable to trust and increasingly resentful and hostile. It's kind of a crap shoot. Good luck.
6. Filling, hmm. Maybe snails and puppy dog tails. Maybe sweetness and light. Maybe both--you should find out for yourself. Molotov's some night?
--M


2. I uploaded that pic of Mere and I onto my MySpace page, and it was promptly deleted by "MySpace Administrators" for showing nudity. Dude, they're fucking mannequins. Seriously.

3. Sunday night found The TSG drinking beers at my apartment, and found me, after so much careful counseling from my girlfriends, censoring myself to a certain extent. There was beer, yes, and then there were t-shirts and jeans scattered about, and then there was just the two of us, in my bed, face to face and somewhat...well, kind of uncomfortable. Things were not going smoothly, and there was some rythym lost and some shaky hands and some kind of brief carelessness.
"Dude, are you okay?" This is me asking The TSG if he's okay.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." This is him lying and saying that he's fine.
"Seriously, just calm down for a minute. This isn't supposed to be so hard. I mean, this is supposed to be fun."

Damned if it wasn't amazingly so after that.

4. The enigma/phenomena that is RCU and everything surrounding us meeting is actually a much spoken of subject here in San Francisco. One of the most vivid images that I've ever commited to paper was written about him, something like [excuse me while I paraphrase]: "...in my naked state of recline I glance to see him snorting a line from the cover of a paperback volume of erotica." This line is so decadent and luxe that it kills me every time. Just to read it. Just to remember that it actually happened.
RCU, like so many others, has long ago passed what I like to call [but did not name] The Friend Line. Much like the Neighbor recently and so many countless others, these are the people who I ended up loving to much for sex to be a resonsible thing for us to share. He is one of the many I ended up liking far too much to fuck. Below the Friend line, there are many-a-fuckable bachelor, yes, but above it are some of the best boys I have had the pleasure of knowing. Shaun too is a perfect example.

5. The text message? Oh dude, it was quite the message. Let me tell you all a little story.

"So there I was, fresh from seeing Dawn and at The TSG's apartment for the first time, and I am drunk both from alchohol and the lingering fright I have associated with him. Yes, I said that fairly correctly, for it is not him per se that I fear, but rather that I will never escape having to reinvent myself to make someone want to stick around. By this I mean that I fear that the me who is really me will never be the right kind of me to ever be part of an us. I have only ever found one sure-fire solution to this problem: Timelines.
"Basically, there was me naked, and there was me contemplating all of this, and there was me resenting that once again I have become what Samantha and I long ago deemed it my fate to be: A Straight Man's Casual Sex Trial-Size Sample.
"What the hell is that? Oh, let me briefly explain. Much like one who collects V Cards, A Straight Man's Casual Sex Trial-Size Sample like myself collects boys in transition--boys who have just broken up with thier girfriends, boys who are looking to get out of thier norm, boys who extoll that they "don't really do this that often".
"I'm can't stand being someone else's plaything, and specifically not to someone who should be mine, and I hate having to clip my tounge for reasons that may or may not come to fruition. And so, there I was saying the same thing I always do.

"I don't really think we should do this anymore."

Also, as a brief afterthought to Open Letter--
I went out with Grace tonight, and when her boyfriend showed up, he was wearing his own version of the perverbial bad pair of jeans. This infamous article of clothing is something Grace likes to call "The Tiny Tee." Hahaha. Tiny Tee. In about 20 hours, I'll elaborate more on this t-shirt and on the people I ran into at the Hemlock. Get ready for "The Carnie and the Crying Guy".

Gold. I'm giving you gold here.
There's more, yes. Oh, what did the text message say?
Hmm.
--M

4 comments:

huntsmanic said...

i'm a phenomenon? i'm a late-90s travolta--hurray. i love the notion of you and me being "actually a much spoken of subject here in San Francisco." that's so great, intimate and vague at once. it was great to hear your voice the other day. lemme know if you have a free moment today.

Lisa said...

The chatch is back! I believe there is an Elton John song calling your name somewhere...

Don'Avonne Leak said...

damn it.. what is this a convention for wearing bad jeans.. eveen now as I type this in a cafe in north beach on my laptop sipping expresso's to keep me from passing out during my drunken slumber (beer+expresso=something of teh result from a vodka redbull.. sleepy crack???) people all around me are wearing bad jeans.. and not like thing from this year that dont fit. I mean like things they brung back from the 90's that there rocking like it came out yesterday with stuff written over it.. ough.. did the ugly wagon pass by and people fell out or what.., I'm so sad that I'm the only decently dressed person here.. where are you at to be my other fab person.. one's sad two is fab.

common miranda swim to me!

Don'Avonne

ps.. um.. why is the security post code like 10 characters.. I can bearly type it in.. damn them!

tsg said...

I only drank one of those beers.