it's 12:23 am, on October 29, 2001 - fear and groping, the aftermath.
~
Okay, so, it's been a counting crows kind of day, except where I fell asleep for six hours and felt like puking most of the time I was awake.
There's this thing I want to talk about, but I'm not willing. See, I tell people I'm honest, but I'm honest in the way that Lance is honest, because, I think, he says things that become true post-production; like Al said, not wanting to be eaten until you realise that people are looking at you as if they want to eat you, and then, you want it back.
She said it much more eloquently:
in the animal kingdom, the only reason
one creature stares at another is
if it
wants to
eat it.
this was his explanation of the sort of person
who choses to act.
which the Boys do, but as a
sympton of a larger condition.
The psychology is imposed on them
retroactively. Imagine
not having wanted to be eaten
yesterday, and wanting it
today.
*
This thing: I'm going to give it a name. I think I'm going to be borrowing from Al a lot today -- misplaced desire does that to me, what a surprise -- and so she called it, at least at one point, fear and groping. I did a bit of that last night, the groping, and I don't know if I had the fear, but I know I had the groping, and the question is, groping for what.
See, people have told me a few things in the last few days: Sue from Las Vegas said that it doesn't matter, because people want to do things all the time, it's when they don't that matter. I told her, no, see, I measure people by intent, not execution.
--something I want to say before I forget: I almost made this a private entry in livejournal, but I didn't, because I figure, you've wanted to be eaten for a long time now; if you're not going to be honest about that, there's no point. Just say it where everyone can see it. And if you're going to lie, at least do it equally. Once I start shutting people out of the things I say (post-production or not) I'm not being honest--
Cathy said that, I don't even remember. I think she said 'oh', and she hugged me. And then we started talking about running away and starting our own travelling circus. I told her, 'I fucked up.' I told Ashlan that too, and she said, 'oh'. And I don't think either of us were particularly surprised.
Zar and I went to Denny's in the middle of last night, after the groping, see, because we still couldn't walk straight, and we got the *grossest* food, and we didn't talk much, but drank a lot of water, and it's one of those scenes in movies that should be akward but wasn't because we were pretty much self-absorbed, and so it worked out well. We laughed at the weird freaks in halloween costumes. I mentioned, 'yeah, I fuck things up. It's a specialty.' She agreed.
When I talked to, um, Cathy I think it was, about fucking things up, because whatever it was, I betrayed on the want side of things, I thought about what Alestar would say, a lot. Later on, once Cathy and I had moved onto the dancing dogs and cute gay acrobats, that is. I figure, Al would probably say, something about guilt making it easy to disclaim behavior: we feel guilty over something, therefore, it isn't our fault anymore.
See, I knew I should have been a Catholic.
I also figure, Al might think something like, okay, this is more *wanting* to be guilty. And I can't, I can't decide whether I really don't need anyone, or whether that's just another post-production lie, and whether I should leave the vaguely pop-star metaphors in my head in the dust and go back to hot, dirty, nasty prison sex because; and.
Post-production lie: a pop star metaphor. I'm taking a survey. Keep it, or throw it away?
*
I think. I don't think.
*
What's on trial here -- okay, back to the prison sex -- isn't my faithfulness or unfaithfulness. Because, I didn't do anything that really, constitutes unfaithfulness, but we know that my gage is on wanting, not doing. Anyway. On trial, I think, is...
I've forgotten that thought because my mother came into the room and said, 'I suppose you're going to stay up all night, now, and not want to go to school in the morning', and I said, 'no, I'm going to bed in like fifteen minutes' and she didn't even argue, so I must look like hell, absolute hell.
I remember what Ashlan said now. I told her, 'we don't really talk unless we're fallingdown drunk' and she said, 'if you don't talk, why are you together?' and then she said, 'oh, well, get drunk and talk about it?' and I said, 'I dunno.'
The pronoun 'I' is second nature.
*
More prison sex: I can't seem to deal with the intense lack of desire I have for anything right now. When you fall into something, you don't, look. I guess. I *am* an inherently selfish person, I think we've established -- I'm sorry, Al, but it must be true -- and I must only need myself.
Instead of post-production lies, lets look at that idea from the angle of prison sex. I can continue on with emotions by myelf. I can be locked in, twenty four hours a day, with nothing, and still, it's there. It's unimportant, except in the way it influences me.
I think, actually, we should probably call me Stuart. I understand why he thought Vince was so precious -- he figured, he could do whatever selfish things he wanted, and it didn't really affect Vince because Vince, in his love and clinging, was being just as selfish as Stuart was in pushing him away. I don't know if it's true in their case -- I'm fairly sure it's not true in this case, in fact, certain -- but Vince always was a stupid twat, and Stuart was too melodramatic for his own good.
I miss River. It's been a Counting Crows day -- the line I picked up for myself tonight is, 'Separate love from addiction -- it's not the same'. I hope Toby gets out. I know he won't. I know Chris wants, desperately, but he doesn't, he, I don't even know.
~
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