A Little Bit of Lemonade In Your Eye

I found recently that I was avoiding writing about Lemon.  I'm avoiding it because it feels like a trap.  It feels like I will think about it and realize that I'm choosing to make my entire life into some massive sisyphean task.  I'm pushing this boulder up a hill, proving with every push that I'm worth her and definitely better than any other guy that she knows.  However, once I get up to the top of this hill, I get drunk and ask her out in the least attractive way possible.  What I'm saying is that I'm not sure yet whether I'm cool to just be her friend for the rest of my life.  I have a feeling also that she tends to date guys who end up really fucking her over.  I mean, that's based on nothing other than intuition, but if it's true, that means that I'd have to stand by and watch while that happens.  That is hard.  It's like watching Erin date totally obviously crappy guys.  Gets old.  Especially when i'm better.  It makes me have to question myself, actually.  I don't like having to question myself anymore.  I thought that I was past that?  I thought that I knew who I was, and what that was worth. 

Why is friendship more valuable to some people than love?  Why do so many girl-types prefer my company in that platonic way only?  I suspect that I know the answer, but it makes me sad, so I prefer not to.

"And I saw Sisyphus at his endless task raising his prodigious stone with both his hands. With hands and feet he tried to roll it up to the top of the hill, but always, just before he could roll it over on to the other side, its weight would be too much for him, and the pitiless stone would come thundering down again on to the plain." - Homer

Recent Sexy Dream Participants UPDATE

Erin
Julee
Ashlee
and now introducing...Leslie!

Congratulations Leslie!

UPDATE:
I feel bad that I forgot to mention Terra, but Terra has definitely participated as well.

Do You Want To Come In?

Check me out. Erin said that she didn't really like me writing about her in here instead of just saying things to her face, but here I am, writing away.

Erin wasn't really responding to my texts. She wasn't exactly answering my phone calls. She most certainly was not calling me back. After about a week of this, I was convinced that there must be something up. Turns out I was right. She happened to also be sick that week, but that major player here was this very blog. She stumbled upon this thing most likely by following comments on Adam's Italy blog (not a big deal as I did originally gave her the address, but she told me she couldn't deal with the rules, and would therefore not read it). She most likely did what most people would do, and searched her name to see if I'd written about her, which of course I have. She found the old entry about herself, and focused in on a very specific portion of it.

I wrote about Paul, very briefly. Keep in mind that this was about a year and a half after he'd gone. My observation sounded cold,

"She has experienced shit, and her life is so empty, that it almost makes me angry. Paul died, and killed a large portion of her. The bags under her eyes are my monument to him, and they will seemingly never let me forget him or his impact on her. If I were to want her to love me, I am not sure that I'd ever be convinced that I had 100% of her. She belongs to him still, and I do not know how to help her let go; I'm not sure if she's ready to yet.
It was always understood (by her and I) that she and Paul would end up together after he cleaned up."

Now, to me, this doesn't sound as bad as I suppose it might to someone else. What I meant at the time was that Paul had become such a big part of her life, and with him gone, she didn't know how to refill that void yet. There is an interesting phenomenon to mention now. In some clinical studies, scientists looked at hibernating animals in order to understand the relationship between calories, fat, metabolism, exercise, and obesity. Basically, a hibernating animal is a very obese form of its normal self. The animal puts on a tremendous amount of weight in anticipation of a cold hard season that would yield an insubstantial amount of food to continue daily living. The weight is in the form of fat (brown fat, I believe), and it serves as an energy source for the animal, who then enters a state of something sleep-like wherein they can dramatically reduce their energy requirements. This reduction is generally attributed to the drastic lowering of core body temperature and the slowing down of all bodily functions. Blah blah blah, we all know how hibernation works, I guess. Anyways, scientists would take an animal who was in the midst of hibernation and then surgically remove a portion of their fat. Now, I'm not sure what I would have expected to happen, but what happened was certainly unexpected. The animal regenerated the lost fat to compensate. Considering that no additional food was going IN to the animal, it's baffling to try to figure out how they managed to regenerate fat to replace that which was removed. The point of this, though, is that when an important part of them was removed without their permission, they were able to replace it with something just as valuable that ultimately may save their life.

Erin is a hibernating ground squirrel, and Paul was forcibly removed by a curious surgeon. Her self has since regrown and recouped, in a way that ultimately saved her life. While once she was cold inside and her heart was beating very slowly, she is now gallivanting about the meadow with a thousand acorn-producing trees in each direction. The piece of her that was taken has not prevented this from happening.

To continue, Erin must have read the various parts of that post in which I extol her virtues and proclaim undying secret love for her. I wonder why I don't feel more embarrassed about this? I mean, she must have put the pieces together to understand that nothing has really changed, right? I think so, at least.

On Friday night, I had my bike and a jones for some trouble. I laced up and hopped on the light rail in to Phoenix. I rode in to downtown, where I got off and rode over to her (parents') house. I texted her, "Can you come outside for a minute?" and waited about for about ten. No answer, so I called her. She woke up and came outside to talk. We talked lightly for a minute or two to lighten up the mood or something? We hadn't spoken for like two weeks now, right? Then I just launched in to it and asked her what was going on. Laundry list. I hurt her with the stuff that I'd said. She didn't understand why I didn't just say it to her. She always comes to me with her problems, and maybe she should start to distance because she won't always be able to do that. A few others. Nothing that really surprised me, I guess. I apologized, because I think this was largely misunderstanding. She can't tell if I'm writing facetiously sometimes or not. Fair enough. I almost spilled guts when I started to tell her about how she had confused with me a few things, but it just didn't feel right yet.

Eventually, it became time to leave. I made motions to this effect, and she said that she would walk me to the light rail stop, which was right near her (parents') house. She was barefoot, but insisted that it wasn't a problem. We walked and talked and it was cute. Got to the light rail, bought a ticket, sat down. We continued to talk. Light rail arrives, but there appears to be approximately three crap loads of people on it, and no more bike hooks open, so I say that I'll just ride to the next stop and catch a less busy one. We start walking back to her house then, since I'm not going to get straight on a train. I don't remember when or how, but she offers to drive me home. I sort of felt like riding actually, but the night seemed unfinished, so I said okay. Drive home is light, but fun still. At the apartment too soon.

An interesting exchange occurred at the apartment. She had stopped the truck, but it was still running. We had a moderately awkward, "okay, well, I guess, goodbye then?" sort of moment happening, so I said, "Do you want to come in?" I was almost joking, but not really. Then, in a tremendous mindfuck, she thinks about it for a seconnnnnnnnnnnndddddddddddddddddd that lasted what God considers to be eternity. She eventually declined, due to lack of privacy, sort of? I mean, I don't think she was even considering the extrapolated extreme ending that is implied by my question, but it's fun to live in fantasies, isn't it? It feels like being a goldfish. You live in a fish tank with a castle and a rock and a seaweed thing. When finally someone introduces another goldfish to your tank, it is the beginning of an epoch. A new era of existence that surpasses your three month memory. Something better than a new castle, or a piece of coral, or a diver guy with a treasure chest that floats bubbles to the top of your tiny world. You can't ignore it when God puts a new colored rock there, but after three months, you forget why the rock was interesting in the first place. You always have someone to swim in circles with, though.

As for love:
"If you have it, you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have."
-Sir James M. Barrie

Lemon

I hung out with Lemon three times this weekend.

Friday: Beers and food at Rose and Crown, then First Friday
Sunday: Burgers and beer at my brother's house
Monday: Movie

Louis drove myself and Lemon to downtown for First Friday. We all walked over to Rose and Crown where we had some sandwiches and beer and stuff. Fun times. It turns out that Lemon lived for a little while in London and the pub by her house was called Rose and Crown. WEIRD. First Friday was fun, too. Not as many people as normal, and it sort of started to rain, which was nice. We checked out my brother's tattoo shop and ran into a bunch of random people that I've known from over the years.

On Sunday, my family was originally planning on having a barbecue at my cousin Kris' house, but we were informed that Kris crashed his Ducati in Cottonwood and had to cancel. He is fine, but had to go in to the hospital. Anyways, the original plan also was for Erin to come to the barbecue with me, but it looked like she wasn't going to make it back in time from Pinetop. Bearing this in mind, I called Lemon and asked her if she was hungry. She was. I asked if she would like to go to my brother's for a little grilling. She would. I picked her up about forty minutes later, and we hung out at my brother's house for a while. My cousin Jenny was around for a little bit too, but had to take off, leaving just Me, Lemon, David, and Rachel. Lemon just could NOT get over my brother's 210 pound Mastiff, Elden. Elden remained the focus of most conversation, although we also talked about a lot of other stuff. Then I took her home.

THEN, on Monday, I was really bored and just sitting around my house. I asked Erin if she wanted to go to a movie with me, and she said no. I texted Amburger (new girl, 1st mention) and asked her too, but she was busy. Now, see, I would have asked Lemon first, but I figured she was all tired of me by this point. However, at this point, I was so bored that I figured I'd take my chances (I also really wanted to see her again), so this text exchange occurred:

Me: "What're the chances that you're bored and NOT tired of my company yet? and wanting to see a movie..."
Lemon: "Lol! I couldn't tire of you. For goodness sakes, i was just writing you on facebook! Lol!"
Me: "Really? What to go see a movie tonight?"
Lemon: "Sure. I'm still doing meds, do you want to go in soon so i don't go too far?"
Me: "What? I can't make sense of that."


So then she drove over here to my apartment and I drove us to Camelview. I had these sweet free passes for Harkins, so I used them. Score. We saw Away We Go, which was excellent. It's Jim from The Office, and Maya Rudolph from SNL. Great movie, totally funny and slightly tear-jerking. Then we drove around a little, and I showed her those ridiculous waterfalls on the canal. Romantic? Who knows? I'd like to think that she's coming around to my way of thinking. That thinking which involves her dating me. We'll see though, I seriously cannot read her yet. I don't THINK she is interested, but I'm not convinced yet. Updates as they happen...

Roadrunner Fin

Just a quick heads up, I ended things with RR. More details later. Mothers,lock up your daughters.

Girl Picture Reference: Erin

Erin = Claire Forlani + Jane from Tarzan

More and more

Some of my friends have postulated that I have an odd ability to befriend people who will need me in a significant way at some point. Some of my friends consider this a weakness. Some of my friend consider this a strength. Some of my friends probably don't think this is true anyways. I think that I do tend to meet people who are in hard places in life. Or maybe everyone has those hard places, and I just tend to be around when they go down. Whatever. The point is that I seem to always be called on during major crises. I've mentioned before that I love this about my life. It is kind of like being good at a really important job. I don't know, like being a food safety investigator who has never let an outbreak of E. Coli slip by on his watch or something. I mean, the other thing here is that people define crisis in different ways. For some, the crisis is simply whether or not to take a chance on loving someone unexpected. For others, it is whether they are going to be able to survive living with their parents any longer. For others still it is whether they will have a home and their daughter when they leave. I helped Terra move out of her mesa house and away from her raging husband. I packed up her uhaul. I drove to tucson to help unload it. I even slept there and tried to help console her. I tried to convince Heather that it was going to work out (it did). Et cetera et cetera. Et Set Terra. I wonder if it is that people who need me find me, or that people that I need find me. Or maybe that I'm just more aware of people who need help. I don't know. I think that it really comes down to whether I'm here for everyone else, or if they're here for me.

Assorted Pictures

Regarding Getting A New House

So I faxed the application for the new house in yesterday morning at work. Actually, let's redo this. Here was my day:

6am - wake up
630 - work
900 - fax application for carpet free house
930 - leave work, eat excellent breakfast burrito
1030 - shower
1130 - arrive at church
1200 - mass
130 - leave church, head to paul's dad's house for reception remembrance thing
200 - get call saying that grandmother may be dying, should go see her in hospital
245 - arrive at hospital
330 - leave hospital
345 - call landlord, tell him that I faxed the application...he says he'll look tomorrow for it
350 - get awesome soy mocha from Lux
425 - pick up vegan BLT from mandala...super delicious
500 - get back to church
600 - mass
745 - finally leave church
845 - rockband
1000 - talk to erin on the phone. She says that the landlord already called her (around 5ish) because I had listed her as a reference on the application. She said he was sort of weird, but that he was impressed by my plans to go to medical school and stuff. She said it went pretty well.
That's all. He should be calling me today, I think. I'll update as I know.

Sometimes She's On

Erin makes me a little bit sad. When she's on, she's fantastic, but she falls away just as quickly. I wish I really knew how to keep her up. It'd be great, but I run out of ideas. She is lonely and desperate. Not desperate for guys or love or anything, just desperate. She lives desperately, which is not a good way to live I don't think. She lives at the mercy of her world, instead of taking charge of it. She ought to move out. She ought to get her Masters. She ought to get a new job. She hasn't done any of those things. I wish that she would do any one of them. It's too bad, really. She is still what she always was for me, even though she shrinks when I see her again. She becomes something smaller than the monumental glyph that exists in my brain associated with her name. The picture of infant Jesus is of a human deity trapped in a tiny body, when by all accounts he was crying, shitting, horrible thing like all babies are. Erin deserves something more. Do all guys always think that they are able to give what everyone needs?

This one goes out to Erin AND AsheeBabeez:


"A Better Son/Daughter" by Rilo Kiley

"Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs
I know I can't breathe
And hope someone will save me this time
And your mother's still calling you insane and high
Swearing it's different this time
And you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her
And that god never blessed her insides
Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for upsetting things
And crawl back into bed to dream of a time
When your heart was open wide and you love things just because
Like the sick and dying

And sometimes when you're on
You're really fucking on
And your friends they sing along
And they love you
But the lows are so extreme
That the good seems fucking cheap
And it teases you for weeks in its absence
But you'll fight and you'll make it through
You'll fake it if you have to
And you'll show up for work with a smile
And you'll be better
You'll be smarter
More grown up and a better daughter or son
And a real good friend
And you'll be awake
You'll be alert
You'll be positive though it hurts
And you'll laugh and embrace all of your friends
And you'll be a real good listener
You'll be honest
You'll be brave
You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful
You'll be happy

Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
To the cries and the wails of the valley below
Your ship may be coming in
You're weak but not giving in
And you'll fight it you'll go out fighting all of them"

Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

Fair Warning: I've decided to use more nicknames and aliases, in order to protect people.

Okay, so on Wednesday night I'm going to dinner. Originally it was
Secret Lover, Appletini, and I taking Bre out to Cheesecake Factory to celebrate Breanna having graduated this semester. We ended up telling Bre to invite her fiancee Jason, which of course opened up Appletini to invite HER fiancee Big Tom. Then, somehow Secret Lover's boyfriend Mike heard about the dinner, and he wants to go, so he is too. So that's Appletini and Big Tom, Bre and Jason, Secret Lover and Mike, and me. They told me to bring someone, and they all suggested Duffy, but that seems a little weird to me for some reason. Then I was thinking Erin, but she'd probably be uncomfortable. Then I was thinking Adam, but I'd much rather bring a girl. Maybe Madame Butterfly. I fuckin' love Madame Butterfly. She is in the choir, and is just begging to be corrupted. That's sort of gross, but it's totally 100% fucking true. I may make a longer entry about her and Adam and all the hilarity therein some other day maybe. She'd be awkward to bring to the dinner though. Maybeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...hell, I don't know. Someone throw me a line here.

“The lonely one offers his hand too quickly to whomever he encounters”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Strange Strange Time

Sometimes I like to fantasize about not eating. At all. For long periods of time, like political statement long. Just let myself whither away. Muscle. Fat. Skin. Hair. Nails. Teeth. Let it all beg for salvation. But just let it all die. I don't think that I'D die this way, rather, I think I see it as a rebirth. A way to shed all the muscle that reminds me how strong I USED to be, and the skin that reminds me how clear it USED to be, and the fat that reminds me just how fat I AM. A way to put a pile of plates in the ground and cover it in dirt. A way to grow daisies with memories, instead of dreams. Are pain and results directly proportional? They just might be. I'm sure that all things worthwhile are painful, but I'm not yet positive that the most worthwhile are also the most painful. Is there any way else that I could be? I don't think so. So for the ultimate birth, I guess I'd be needing the ultimate death.

"Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with,
heart and soul
O(h)m my Lord...
Please take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you
Won't you please
Oh won't you"

Give Me Love by George Harrison

I sometimes wish that I could flit in and out of people's lives unquestioned. That I was able to be there for a moment, make an impact, and then float away secretly lonely. This seems impossible though, as the more that I make myself emotionally available, the more people realize how few people are willing to do this. This realization is followed usually by an immense request. That's okay, that's why I'm here. But how great would it be to be KNOWN for being absent all the time except when you need it most? Would people demand less, but expect more? I'd love that, I think.

"I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
I look at the floor and I see it needs sweeping
Still my guitar gently weeps
I don't know why nobody told you how to unfold your love
I don't know how someone controlled you
They bought and sold you.

I look at the world and I notice it's turning
While my guitar gently weeps
With every mistake we must surely be learning
Still my guitar gently weeps
I don't know how you were diverted
You were perverted too
I don't know how you were inverted
No one alerted you.

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping
While my guitar gently weeps
Look at you all . . .
Still my guitar gently weeps."

While My Guitar Gently Weeps by George Harrison

I rarely get overwhelmed, but sometimes I feel like giving up. It seems so silly to me that nothing bad happens to ME, but instead to all of the people in my life. Is this an indication that the universe really does revolve around me? I had a decent upbringing, never really wanting much more than I got. I wasn't abused or lied to. I didn't make any major mistakes, and I wasn't the victim of someone else's. I haven't wasted love, and I realize how big that is. So why don't I have cancer? Why aren't I addicted? Why haven't I lost the love of my life? What's the deal? Is this all build up until the major event that will truly destroy me? When it gets to be too much, I like to think that I have a strategy, but it mostly involves trying not to cry, even if I'm sitting alone.

"Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby

Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby

Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby"

Golden Slumbers by The Beatles

I really like when sitcoms have dramatic episodes. For instance, I love the episodes of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air when Will's dad shows up and gets back into Will's heart, only to break it again at the end. In all honesty, and at the risk of sounding like a geek, this was the episode that proved Will Smith's acting ability. At the end, he breaks down, and everytime I watch it, I still secretly cry. The only thing that has changed since the first time that I saw it is that if I'm alone I'm not ashamed to cry. The series finale of Roseanne is also excellent. In the last season or so, the show gets really weird. They win the lottery, Roseanne/Jackie's mom comes out as a lesbian, Dan has a heart attack, Jackie starts dating the Prince of Moldavia, Dan cheats on Roseanne, Darlene and David's baby is delivered premature and is supposed to die but lives. So anyways, it sounded really like the show had jumped the shark, but the last episode reveals that the season was a creation of the character of Roseanne, who took up writing as a coping strategy after Dan's heart attack, which he actually died from. The rest of the season is basically her way of running away or fantasizing, which is why so much great stuff happened. What really happened is: Jackie is a lesbian, her mother is not, Dan died from his heart attack, Darlene's baby (with Mark, not David) was delivered premature and somehow survived, Becky had gotten together with David, and Roseanne had begun writing. Anyways, in the series finale, when she exposes all of this, she comes to the point of telling about Dan dying and she almost starts crying, and I almost do as well. There was also an earlier episode I think where Dan's dad dies or something, and Dan cries, and it's pretty hard for me to watch as well. Now that I think about it, there was another episode of Fresh Prince that makes me cry, but I can't remember what it was. There was an episode of Scrubs that did as well, but I can't quite remember it well enough at this point to talk about it. Maybe I'll make a post of the things that have made me cry in my life. I can probably remember just about all of them. Here's a teaser: Fresh Prince, Roseanne, Julee, Paul, Magnolia, Armageddon, About Schmidt, Castaway, and some other stuff as well.

"Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru deva, om,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
They call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
They tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru deva, om,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Sounds of laughter shades of life are ringing
Through my opened ears inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying Love which shines around me like a
million suns, It calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru deva, om,
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva"

Across the Universe by The Beatles

Duffy a no go

Duffy's a non viable option tonight. She has to open tomorrow morning (aka wake up at 4:30), so I told her never mind. We are going to go to lunch though I think. We'll see what happens. Updates to come as necessary. Erin never called me back.

Leave Them, We Gotta Go

So in my efforts to be there for people, I sometimes fail. I do this mental triage thing that basically says, "Okay, so who needs the most right at this moment? Who needs the second most? Ok, go." Should the triage instead be "Who matters the most to you at this moment"? It's hard, I guess. It's hard to look at three people, decide that you only have time for two, and just hope the other one understands. Combine this with my abstract concept of time (you'll notice, if you speak to me on the phone, how rarely I can actually say what day something happened on). I find that a week passes by before I realize even a day is gone. I hope that my friends grasp this about me, and that they will grant me their patience.

I hadn't spoken to Erin for a while (relatively), and I thought that she was mad at me, because every time we DID talk, she said very little:

Me: "So how was your day?"
Erin: "Fine."
Me: "...What did you do?"
Erin: "Work."
Me: "Anything happen at work?"
Erin: "No, just work stuff."
Me: "NOTHING happened today?" (this is the point at which my sensibility demands you to recognize at least ONE positive aspect of the day, so learn to identify this question)
Erin: "NO, just work. What do you want me to say?"
Me: "I don't know, SOMETHING"
Erin: "Ok, fine, I woke up, felt like shit, drove to work, got bitched at by my boss, did everyone's work like I always do, then I left work and now I'm talking to you."
Me: "Sounds like fun"
Erin: "Yeah, it was a blast"
Me: "..."
Erin:
Me: "..."
Erin:
Me: "You alright?"
Erin: "..."
Me: "Hello??? Are you alright?"
Erin: "What? Yeah! I'm fine!"
Me: "..."
Erin: "..."

So then I was supposed to go to this Christmas Party with her, but she told me that day that I wasn't going, and that she wasn't mad at me, and that she felt like shit. I felt bad, because I knew what she was doing (thinking that she was doing me a favor by not making me go, even though I actually did want to go), and I knew that there was no way around it. I intended to call her the next day, but some shit went down with Heather, and frankly, I forgot about it. And now it's Wednesday, and I was going to call her before I did anything with Duffy, but she called me first and was pissed off that I hadn't called her. Then she either hang up on me or her phone died (her phone always dies) after I told her about the week.

I wonder if it's better to spread it out or concentrate. It's not quite the 99 vs 1 conundrum that I thought it was (100 sheep, 1 runs away, shepherd leaves the 99 to find the 1, etc etc). I'm okay with that problem, but I find this is distinctly different. This is more like I have 100 sheep on a mountain rim and 3 of them run away. Two of them run straight at a cliff that's still about a mile away, and the other one starts walking down a path into the dark valley below us. Now, do I stop the one that is easiest to stop and then hope that I still have enough time to catch up to the other two? Or do I take off after the other two knowing that it'll be hard, but ultimately possible, to eventually get the third? The choice seems obvious, but the obvious answer is not always the right one.

"But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman"

Superman by Lazlo Bane

No Shoes Lyrics

No Shoes

(Written by Paranoid Lary, As performed by the Roches)


One, Two Three, Four

I had no shoes
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no feet
That's really beat

I had no feet
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no knees
That was his disease

I had no knees
And I complained until I met a man
And you know what?
He had no butt

I had no butt
And I complained about it all
And then I met a man
Who had no balls

I had no balls
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no guts
No balls, no butt, and now no guts

I had no guts
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no heart
The most important part

I had no heart
And I complained, I did not understand
And then I met a man
Who had no hands

I had no hands
And I complained until I met a man
Who was a wreck
He had no neck

I had no neck
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no chin
Some folks lose, some folks win (Ahhhh)

I had no chin
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no nose
That really blows

I had no nose
And I complained until I met a man
Who never cries
He had no eyes

I had no eyes
And I complained until I met a man
Who felt no pain
He had no brain

I had no brain
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no head
As good as dead

I had no head
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no hair
There was nothing there

I had no hair
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no hat
Picture that. Not even a hat (Ahhhh)

I had no hat (had no hat? no hat!)
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no sky (no sky)
No reason why

I had no sky (why?)
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no stars (he had no stars?)
No Venus or Mars (no Venus or Mars?)

And not any stars!

I had no stars
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no God
That's rather odd

I had no God
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no faith
Nothing just in case

I had no faith
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no love
Nothing to dream of

I had no love
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no hope
At the end of his rope

I had no hope
And I complained until I met a man
Who had no luck
That really sucks

I had no luck
And I complained that I had nothing left to lose
And then I met a man
Who had no shoes... (Ahhhh)

My type's phenotype

Bottom up:

Feet: Just SLIGHTLY larger than average, though not overly bone-filled or lean or sharp.

Calves: Larger than average, though not like fatty at all. I like a little muscle here.

Knees: No sagging.

Quads: Muscular shape, but no separation due to leanness.

Hamstrings: Muscle. Hook. It. Up. One of my favorite places. A nice curve. Mmm, tasty.

Butt: Thick due to muscular foundation, not fat. Cellulite not welcome here.

Waist: Smaller the better.

Stomach: I like to know that there is a six pack hiding under there, but I don't necessarily want to see it all the time. Just the side lines, and the oblique definition (another one of my favorite areas).

Boobs: Traditionally I pursue girls who are flat in the name of athleticism. I am not much of a breast man type (I prefer legs), but my ideal chick is otherwise athletic and lean with C cups. I don't like them too big. Although, Duffy might be edging up on some Ds. Side boob is one of the hottest things ever.

Arms: Um, what the fuck ever, so long as they aren't all flabby or trackmarked.



Here is a graphical representation of what I just described (my perfect female's body):



okay, so since it's apparently not obvious, this specimen is Jessica Biel

A Loving Universe Is Not Enough

Acknowledgment of a loving universe is not always enough. Especially when that acknowledgment is a hidden denial of the necessity for human experience. I am a physically dependent person with an addictive family history. I am addicted to physical connection, if not emotional ones as well. However, at the moment, I am concerned with the scarcity of contact in my world. I have a feeling that I probably worry some friends (female) with the frequency and duration of physical contact that I seek from them. I hug hello. I hug goodbye. In between, I sneak little bits of skin; just enough to satiate me, and keep me alive. I hope that they don't always perceive this as a come on, as it only very rarely is. I am Superman, and the sun is touch. I feel that the bags under my eyes swell and droop and reveal my facial bones. The sadness is obvious in my brow, and I think my hands begin to shake. This must be apparent to others. I have come to believe that I would lay in a bed with just about any person, provided they were warm and assured.

Erin

Where to begin?

First love of life, most likely. Advent of love, in fact. 2nd grade introduction to wonder and appreciation. I remember new emotions, like jealousy and desire. I hated Andy because I thought he had her. Turns out he didn't, though I still think that he could have. I turned to art for the first time ever. I drew the thing that I couldn't imagine and that I would have hated to have known (Andy and Erin having sex, though they both had penises, and one of them was floating above the other. It didn't really make sense, but it was the thought that mattered; and it got me in trouble, just like a grown up artist). It occurs to me that this really WAS the first time I had done this thing, and that it is something that I now do often. I find catharsis in facing fear or hatred or ugly evil, even if I have to create it first. That is, I might have to draw or paint or write this thing that I'm afraid of before I really realize that I'm actually afraid of it. So Erin may have introduced me to art as well. She has been my apparent host here. The person who announces my arrival. I didn't know that until just now, which is another example of her influence.

In 2nd grade I went to Las Vegas with my family. I think that I've told this story before. We were on a people mover or a conveyor belt or just walking next to a long picture window that opened up onto a man made lake with a volcano in it. This must have been at the Mirage where they have a volcano show with fire on the water. At some point I was able apparently to throw a coin in. The coin contained all of my love, and everything that I knew of prayer. I sincerely begged the volcano god to put me and Erin in the same class every year from then all the way through college, and then I secretly (even more secretly than this silent wish already) wished that we'd get married.

I still love her, and I'm sure that I'd do anything she asked me to do. She has experienced shit, and her life is so empty, that it almost makes me angry. Paul died, and killed a large portion of her. The bags under her eyes are my monument to him, and they will seemingly never let me forget him or his impact on her. If I were to want her to love me, I am not sure that I'd ever be convinced that I had 100% of her. She belongs to him still, and I do not know how to help her let go; I'm not sure if she's ready to yet.

It was always understood (by her and I) that she and Paul would end up together after he cleaned up.

Erin became the watermark for beauty, and my standard. She had a lean physique, like a drawing in my mind. She had jutting hips and long sinews of limbs that complimented her features and her hair, which appeared to be of a greenish tint. I know now that it was not green, but I seem to always see the hair of girls that I like as colors that it is not. That is extremely difficult to explain, but basically when I think of Erin, I picture her from eighth grade in front of a classroom that never existed, and her hair is light brown, but my brain looks at it and says "Green." I mean, it knows that it is light brown, but my brain SAYS "green." It's weird. Same thing happens when I picture Julee, only sometimes it's green and sometimes it's auburn.

On to 3rd grade, I don't remember Erin here, because Ms. Loyola was so hot that my memory was wiped clean. Okay, now 4th grade. Erin got me in trouble once, and I got detention. During recess she sat with me on the bench, which actually got her in trouble. I don't even think we spoke during that time we shared on the wooden bench. Okay, now on to 5th grade.

In 5th grade, I was sort of born. I decided that, for reals, I liked girls, and that was okay. At some point, I dated Laura. Maybe more about that later, I'm not sure yet. Also though, this is when Erin became the most sought after girl in our class. Every guy sort of simultaneously decided that Erin had it, and that we all wanted it. That sounds gross, but that's how it was; we didn't even know what it was, frankly. We just all sort of realized that she was hot and cool, and that we'd be hotter and cooler for being closer to her.

At some point, I wrote a note to Erin. It was neon green on one side, and white on the other. On the white side, I drew a skull that I largely lifted from a shirt I saw at Miller's Outpost, and I wrote "ERIN" in crappy Olde English lettering. I wrote something like, "Will you go out with me?" and then, "Yes/No Why/Why not?" and THEN "PS I really like you alot" (and the whole PS part was circled). I'm mostly excited that I asked "Why?" as in, "Yes? You WILL go out me? WHY?! What the hell's wrong with you?" Oh, and I wrote my name on the bottom, too. So yeah, I was a pretty smooth operator. I gave this note to Daniel to give to Erin (side note: Daniel was Erin's first kiss), which he did. Erin claims NOW that she wrote a note back that said "Yes," but I certainly didn't receive it. Her postulation is that Daniel didn't give me the note because of his jealousy (Daniel also liked Erin). I don't know, though, that's pretty convenient. So in the end, we never went out. Her loss. No, that's not true. My loss.

In sixth grade, I was completely smitten and in love with her. I called her all the time; enough even to be banned from calling by her mother. She dated Adam, one of my two best friends at the time, which actually really made me angry, but I didn't let anyone know. This was the height of my frustration.

In seventh and eighth grade I became more friendly with Elizabeth, and less with Erin. Those two did not like each other very much. I still secretly loved Erin, and wrote notes to her and stuff, but I was not as close to her as I used to be. Had she asked, I'm sure that I would have dropped everyone else for her.

High school was black days. We spoke rarely. She went to the all girl school across town. We grew apart. We came back together senior year, when we both worked at the rectory at St. Francis Xavier. We didn't like completely "rekindle," because she was with George, and I was with Julee, and we didn't always work together, but we became friends again.

We've sort of stayed friendly since then, and have recently (the past year or so, especially since Julee and I broke up) become very close. Inextricably close; perhaps symbiotically, at least on my end. My well-being these days involves her, even though we don't talk EVERY day anymore. I still love her as much as I did in 2nd grade, and in the same confusing way. I am perpetually secretly in love with her, though I am willing to hide that away for her benefit. It may be better for her that I am only her friend. I am okay with that, if that is what is truly best for her. I have only her best interest in mind.

to be continued...