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i'm not sure what i'm doing here, to tell the truth. i'm not sure if this will work. i just needed a place to be honest in again. a place where i can go and say aloud again that i'm in pain. or in love. or lust. and maybe someone will pass by my conversation with myself and pat me on the head. to those of you who i bring here with myself from the old lj, or sg...please remember, this was started as my place to be honest. please, avoid inflammatory remarks. i need space to breathe. people have been strangling me for some time now. and in a bit, i will explain the infamous and beautiful aurelio. |
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...might as well be the title of this blog and my brain for the moment. i've struggled for a long time over men. there haven't been a lot of good men in my life. there was my father who hit me; paul, who raped me; eric who tried to kill me; max [no not the one from high school] who threatened to hurt me; the boys who used to rip up my poetry and say that my legs were too thick to be desired; ...christ i feel like i'm writing some fucked up version of an epic, like in the argonautika where they list everybody who got on the fucking boat. well. you get the idea. there haven't been a lot of great men in my life. jess...jess really is the ray of hope, that maybe someday i could have that again. in ways, jess is like my hiroshima mon amour syndrome. in being so right, the loss of him is like an alternate form of mutilating/ruining myself. it destroyed me for a lot of other men. aurelio...aurelio made me very happy for about 2 weeks. as fickle and ridiculous as it sounds, just go with the flow here, ok? aurelio, aurelio. where do i start. i was bored the last time i was in l.a. had terrible insomnia. posted a personals ad because i couldn't sleep and it seemed like a good way to pass time. i didn't expect to get any responses; i was earnest in what i asked for. things like an ability to pick up the phone, emotional availability, etc. alongside a list of my likes. aurelio was...probably the most articulate and bold of any of the responses. i realize in retrospect that it probably was some of his linguistic craft that attracted me to him. he wanted to meet me, right away. he emailed me, almost nightly, back-and-forth between us. he didn't want a picture of me, i liked that. i spoke to him on the phone and he read off my job profile, indicating that he'd located my job on the web. so i did the same and looked him up. i found a picture...holy shit, i prayed he would still be sporting a similar look when i met him. a nicaraguan-born, soccer-playing, fullbright scholar grad student in the english department...jesus fucking christ, does it get better than that? and i met him and he was beautiful. graceful and full of that stereotypically latin or even almost italian smooth charm...every time i hear leona naess's "charm attack" i think of aurelio. not that he was the constantly pot smoking type, he in fact seemed to be a ...purist, in a good sense [not as in 'i only drink water bottled in this region of the andes' or summat] about what he'd put into his body, but then again, playing massive amounts of soccer will do that to a person. and he had fabulous taste in clothes, excellent knowledge of fabrics. we ate indian food. he made fun of me for being suggestive in the way i licked my spoon. i was quite embarassed, but it was probably my attraction to him coming out because i wasn't going to point blank say it. he didn't make me feel old. not for one second. there were no moments between us in which i looked at him and thought 'oh i remember that phase'. that felt so good. the most difficult thing i'm having trouble letting go of is...the way he touched me. the way i remember his hands. he liked to to touch my arm, right above my elbow, kind of on the side of the bicep closest to my back...i can't forget the way he touched me. we eventually went back to his room. he made me some sort of vodka drink. we sat on his bed and i looked up at the greek football club scarf he had over his window at i-house. terribly smooth. terribly smooth, that boy is. "i was on to every play/i just wanted you". he held out his hand to me and said "read my palm". he told me to make something up. so i proceeded to tell a story about sheep. he used this opportunity to draw me on top of him, leading with his hand clapsed in mine for palm-reading purposes. it was like dancing with a professional. slick and clean and i didn't doubt my place at all. he said something that might as well have been "don't quit your day job". when our lips were inching closer, he says "lie to me." "i'm going to be queen of brazil tomorrow" "brazil doesn't have a queen" "they will tomorrow" "good response" [kiss] stickamathea. i couldn't have staged it better myself. 5 beautiful hours. for 5 hours, i was his. after...more happened...we lay on his bed and i was running my fingers down his back. slowly. i still remember it, too graphically. the way his back felt. how beautiful his skin was in the golden light of his room against the rainy exterior that day. running my fingers through his hair. i would kill to do it again. we talked a bit, on and off for a week...he'd been sick and busy...then we arranged something, he cancelled, at least in advance. it becomes more difficult to get ahold of him until we arrange something for the day before school started. he cancels again, essentially by way of standing me up. and never speaks to me again. i'm never gonna hear from him again. i left him a message a few days ago. telling him how hurt i was by his inconsideracy/disrespect in not calling to cancel, etc. i couldn't get a message like that and not feel bad. if it were me, i would probably cry if someone left me a message like that. i couldn't get a message like that and not respond. aurelio, however, is not me. and in all honesty, i never expected him to respond by that point. it probably doesn't hurt him, and he probably doesn't feel bad. and ...i guess...what good to me is a man who doesn't want me, anyway? but god it hurts. i'm gonna go cry myself to sleep, as per usual. |
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holding up slightly better today than yesterday, despite the fact that today was a train wreck of a day. it went something like this: 1. woke up, exhausted. couldn't pour enough caffeine and emergen-c into my system. 2. frantically wrote my response for classics when i should've been in russian. ended up walking past my russian class about 10 minutes after it'd ended and noticed the pretty, quiet boy in the corner with the great accent has class in the same room for 2 periods. that explains why he never gets up when class is over. 3. went to french. hated, no DETESTED guerlac. she calls on every other person in the room, but not me. i can't figure it out. maybe it could be that i'm making faces at her in the front row and she knows better than to call on me because of it. i disagree with her so much interpretationally that it drives me up the fucking wall to have to sit there and be silent. and she gave me a scathingly low grade on a composition which i may or may not have deserved. i think i just didn't address the assignment/prompt the way she wanted me to. *siiigh* ugh. and i'll have another paper for her due wednesday. god i hate her so far. 4. got an email that in order to take care of my final retroactive drop from spring 2002 when i was in the hospital, i have to meet with an assistant dean because it's now a retroactive withdrawal for the entire semester. this means i have to double check with fin aid to make sure they won't try to charge me several thousand dollars for said retroactive withdrawal. if so, fuck it, let the crap stay on my record and i'll just have to explain it to bard in my app to go to russia. 5. my psychiatrist called and said my insurance hasn't paid for anything in months and he just thought he'd get to notifying me now. chriiist. 6. my boss has some strange sort of growth stuff that is vaguely scary and is kitty is ULTRA sick. both of which are sad. 7. zakk [my editor] hasn't gotten back to me about what shows i'm reviewing, so i have no fucking clue when i have to be at a show, and i need to know soon dammit so i can tell veljko and get him to come with me somewhere sometime. 8. thought about aurelio and his beautiful lips and hands. my boss instead explained the concept of gambling on "over"s in vegas ...which he explained to me as when somebody makes a prediction about what the total number of points scored in a game will be and who'll win based on said number. you can bet on said number or non. my boss said he's got my over on this one--he thinks i'll win here. that there will be a great man, as good as aurelio or even better because he'll actually pick up the phone. who knows. i'm tired and going to the gallery with eric soon. ugh. so much homework this weekend, i'm gonna explode. must. absorb. more. russian. |
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strange, it all is. i've slept most of the day after having a super late but fun night at the gallery with eric. actually, only a very small portion ended up being actually at the gallery and the rest involved a bar and a strip club. i was suprised; i really liked chez paree--the girls aren't as thin as at centerfolds and are infinitely more personable. the fucked up thing about going to strip clubs that always drives me nuts, however, is the question of appearance vs. reality. for example, eric buys a private dance for the 2 of us, which we'd wanted to do previously when we went to centerfolds, with a veryvery cute little goth girl. she was guiding me around by the hands and singing about "iiiii have a girlfriend" when we went up into the private room thing. but then! we get up there and it becomes relatively clear to me that a. she doesn't do a lot of couples, b. she has noooo instinct whatsoever for what to do with girls. the first problem is she plunks down on eric's lap. now, i'm not a stripper, but...trust me on this one, the best approach to take with a couple is to focus on the woman and the man will get turned on by proxy. you throw him table scraps, occasional light touches and teases, but you want to ground yourself towards the woman because of the by proxy rule with men. so. whatever, she tries her own approach. but the problem is that i start feeling left out and the best she could do was comment on how great my lingerie is. to which my sentiments were: what the FUCK, you're undressing him, but you LIKE my clothes? and thus are ok with them being left on? grrrrrrr. yeah, eventually she came over to me, and did some half assed shoving her tits in my face thing...which was alright...i want some of whatever that body makeup is that strippers wear. it smells like what i would hands down categorize as "girl". i wasn't thrilled about it though, i could've gotten that sitting out on the floor...which i later did a few times over from different women. meh. i miss girls. and i was stuck feeling all-rejected-like...what was her name...candy. that's it. candy. i was saaaaad because miss candy was evidently very, very, very heteronormative. and *sniffle* didn't like me as much as eric...or maybe she didn't like either of us at all, which is probably the case, as she is a stripper. but i was still sad, because i seemed like the less cute one of me and eric. *sniffle* when we went back downstairs, there was a very soft and sweet girl named "cookie" dancing. she clearly knew how to deal with girls a lot more than the earlier one did. she later shared her pizza with eric and told me i'm beautiful. annoyingly, eric wants both of them to model for him and they probably will. and who the fuck knows what candy'll do. when she did come down to strip, she had great music choice: rob zombie's "living dead girl" and "nobodies" from the smashing pumpkins. during nobodies i was sad because she was doing her act thing and eric was enamoured so i just put my head down on a table and sang along through my hair. for the third song, i've apparently forgotten what it was, but it was a good one as well...i sat back up again, she sat on my lap and had me spank her, which apparently made her a lot of money [damn it, don't you stupid people know i'm doing the dirty work here? tip your spanker, already!] urgh. i could barely smile back at her without wanting to throw things when i was leaving and she was giving me a big smile. i don't know what the fuck to make of her. damn straight girls. i was at least flattered that about 5 different people there said i'd make a great stripper...yes, i know what the hell kind of compliment is that...but it made me feel good at the time. i enjoy stripping, a lot and since i'm not dating anybody, it is a nice outlet for my sexuality...i'm just not sure if i'd want it on my record. then again, i could use the cash and i would fit in at chez paree...it's close to bart...ergggg. it wouldn't be tough for me to get an audition there, but stilllll. meh. no, no, i'm not going to be a stripper. theeee end. but! paying the rent! ughh. ok. no. i'm gonna go make food now. rah, i'm out of beverages and my roommate's home and i want her to go away because she vaccumed and made the room smell like burnt hair. christ. last night i fell asleep with the layers of girl on me. it was nice. |
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i'm putting off going to the library. i need to go assimilate information about the scythians so i can continue my russian composition. i like what i'm doing structurally here: i'm writing from the p.o.v. of medea post-deus ex machina. i open with medea in the formerly scythian tombs under cathedral saint sophia in kiev that were expanded into monasteries and then monk tombs. she can't escape the label of barbaros, even though she escaped corinth. [furthermore, it plays off of some historical rumours about her ethnicity, possibly being scythian]. of course, my instructor got this and went "whatthefuck?!" so my belated second composition is supposed to be an explanation of the scene in kiev, of the location of the cathedral saint sophia in relation to the monastery and the scythian remains. of course, in order to make this all work, i need to sit with books and mpas of kiev and archaeological books about exactly where remains were found. it's frustrating--most of uc berkeley's sources on the subject are from about 1800, unless you're gonna go read russian technical texts. i'm not sure my russian is quite that good. instead of facing the library, i'm drinking coffee and downloading madonna songs. i know i don't seem like the madonna-listening sort, but she does have phases that appeal to me...like the erotica album. i think that's one of her few redeeming moments. although it's hard to cancel out lyrics like "i drink coffee/it goes through my body/right after pilates" or whatever was on the recent album. also her latin phase is appealing to me at the moment, given my post-aurelio latin fetish. i've decided i don't want a man. i'm probably going to bugger off to petersburg soon [god i hope. if i don't travel soon, i'm gonna explode]. i've thought that perhaps i better use of my desire to care for someone might be doing a mentoring thing...the ywca has a good program, and dammit, i could probably write a book on teenage female disasters and resources for dealing with them. so if they're still recruiting mentors, i may do that. additionally, there may be plans for spending my 21st birthday in seattle as it's the weekend of the seattle erotica show and eric may have some of his series of me in it. wooohoo! my birthday finally falls on a weekend! |