double rainbows. double papercuts. double posts.
i don't know why i'm even doing this. maybe it was finishing double blogs.
i finished reading back to the beginning of hyperbole this week. and i feel like my life is less happy because of it. i have to wait a month for something new to reference like everyone else now. it sucks ass.
i also just finished reading back to the very beginning of the writer's blog.
and in between that, taking smoke breaks, reading 'awakening intuition'.
i don't know what i hope to discover with all of this reading.
what i discovered in the case of both blogs is that they started out being something entirely different than what they are when you go to them now. hyperbole didn't have comics in the very beginning, and her style was very different. but still, very funny. sporadically.
and what i love love love is that when the writer started his blog, it was journalistic. it was about him and his life and what he thinks. and even sometimes included feelings.
i truly adore his writing style, even when he writes about suicide or murder or other horrible things. and as the short stories became journalistic posts regressing in time, i laughed more and i was really interested in his perception of things. his writing is so veiled. you want to think that some of the things he writes about are from his life. and i wrote about it when i spent that evening in his company: he keeps you guessing. part of you doesn't know if he's fabricating a story or supplying an honest answer in response to a question.
but in the beginning, i believed that he was being honest and real, and talking about things in his life. there were two lines specifically that killed me. one was about loving 'old lady fright'. the other was about wanting to make a gentlemanly exit after a reading (as opposed to drunkenly falling into a swimming pool all dressed up upon exiting the makeshift stage).
i was cracking up. his writing had a nice humor to it back then. dark still, but funny, too.
it's fun to imagine people in their daily lives. especially a gifted writer/photographer friend. he painted a nice picture with words. it made me want to go out drinking with him, and then feed him. it made me wish that i had been able to go out there now. because this is pretty much the week when i'd wanted to go see his city for the first time.
i like returning to a muse when i am feeling downtrodden, uninspired, and lonely. it makes me feel better about feeling worse.
and the book is strange. i'm trying to stick with it, in hopes that it will give me some great enlightenment. like the secret answer to some great question. it was about bodies and medical issues at first, which i don't really find myself in agreement with or support of. because she's basically saying that if you have unresolved emotional issues in your life, you will get sick. and if you fix them, you can get better.
happy people get sick all the time. and changing things in your life doesn't always make you well.
but now she is moving on to dreams, so that part is really interesting to me. again with issues with generalizations, she says that dreams are our body's way of working out life choices and decisions and possibilities. again, i wish i could subscribe to that completely.
i mean, i do. i love my dreams. having and remembering them, anyway. even when they're weird and don't make sense.
and most of the time, it's obvious to me what they are about. but i have too many ghost dreams to think that my brain is so stupid that it wants to make out with a dead guy. or marry a dead guy. or sleep with a dead guy. or be the girlfriend of a dead guy.
i just don't think that dreams about the house are about parts of my body. i think they're dreams about my house because i miss my house. and girls moving into my house and taking my place, because it's not what i fear, but it's what is inevitable.
tonight was also hard for me because there were two events. and i couldn't go to either. because i knew ever would probably make an appearance at both somehow. so instead of knowing for sure he'd be at one, and going to the other, i came home at seven and got into bed.
and watched fringe and the office.
and then read for hours. i guess three.
until my eyes watered. they still are.
i should probably go to sleep now.
but one more smoke and one more stab at intuition book sounds so much better right now.
maybe one day, i'll stay up until the sunrise. dark sky style. it's pretty fucking cold here right now. in the upper 40s the last few nights, only 50s in the daytime. and i have been wanting to go camping.
the problem is, i don't specifically want to go camping. i want to go snuggle camping with a person of the male persuasion. unfortunately, it's nearly always intern in my brain when i have camping daydreams.
that's right. i substitute all the distractions when i'm feeling this shitty. coffee. intern. hot bartender. even chalk. i'm thinking about going home and having a little fun.
if i keep the time short, it will be sweet and condensed and wonderful. no talking. no bragging. no walking in uncomfortable shoes. no being caught out in public by friends of ever. no canoodling at local watering holes.
get my fix. move it along.
nina pointed it out.
i simply MUST find someone local.
i'm not even in dire need right now. tonight.
but i need to have a plan in place so that when i am in need, when it is critical, i can take care of things and not worry about airfare and three day weekends being part of the deal.
i think that in processing all of this coffee stuff, and while driving today, i know what it is that i was thinking about.
i miss having someone to curl up with. and even though it means sleepless nights, ultimately, it was nice to have a boy who was my friend who i could fall asleep next to. who was happy to hold me, and not try to fuck me, and not even kiss me. it was such an innocent thing.
we were just friends who curled up.
and i think that more than having a buddy, that is what i want.
i want someone to want to hold me. and i want to be held.
the temperature has dropped significantly. enough to sleep with the windows closed.
can you tell?