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| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Matters Pertaining To Fucking Demons
Does This Explain It? So I wrote about Chris, The Demon Italiano, after so many years of not thinking about him. And I couldn't figure out why I was thinking about him--until I talked to Richard. So I answered the phone after writing and talked to Richard, who had just gone through a very similar experience with his ex-fiancee, an experience which included Joe Law, and which sounded an awfully lot like what I went through with Chris. So, anyway, yes, after dodging Richard for so long, I did finally talk to him on Thursday. He and I talked for about an hour--until my phone battery died. And thank god it died, because just when it did, he was hinting that I should come over and watch a movie or something with him. And, too, you know how the boys are. At some point in the conversation (even though he had just gone through this excruciating experience with the ex and the long arm of the law), he brought up sex. Of course. I got the feeling, talking to him about sex, that he thought that I might want to perhaps come over and provide a little bit of comfort in his time of need or something. Something? (And if it sounds like I'm reading too much into it, I have to plant a Richard quote here that relates: "I'm thirty-six," he said about some woman who was hitting on him. "I think I know when I'm getting the vibe.") And would I fuck Richard? No, probably not. And that's not to say that I didn't consider it, but truly, Richard is the kind of guy that you'd--I'd--want to keep things light with, keep things on a friendship kind of level, you know? But I know Richard. I know that soon enough, his feelings (or mine, if you want me to be completely honest about it) would get hurt that I didn't want to come over, didn't feel like going out, didn't feel like staying in, whatever. He's not the kind of guy that would get angry or pissed off, but he is the kind of guy who would get all hurt over things. And me? I have to run from guys like that. Guys Like That So after wondering online about where in the hell my period has gone off too, I got a call from Max. Max, too, was wondering about my period apparently. He called, stoned, and did this thing that seemed designed to piss me off. He started out by pretending that it was just a call to see how I was. ("Oh, I don't know why I called. I guess I just wanted to see how you were.") I chatted away happily for a bit, and finally it came out that he had read the diary, read about my not having gotten my period and he was worried about it. Fine. Sweet of him, right? Yeah. We're talking about a man who, for eighteen years, couldn't be bothered to give a fuck about my period. He couldn't be bothered to give a fuck about my sex life, didn't bother about sex at all, didn't care whether I wanted it or not. And he certainly didn't want me. But now that other men want me? Now that I'm fucking other guys? Yeah, now he's worried. Anyway, it pissed me off. And so I told him to stop reading the diary. Or that if he did read it, that he was not ever to bring up what he read in it to me. Ever. And the period thing? Turns out that my body fat percentage has dropped to a low enough level that my period is going to be an iffy thing for a while. Tired And Cranky And too many consecutive episodes of The Sopranos. But that Furio? Yum.
More lies:
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