it's 5:23 pm, on November 04, 2003 - that was why they called it jealousy. if you could help it, it would just be lust..
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I was trying to explain a lot of thoughts this weekend, and I ended up reading "memoirs of a geisha" - which actually deserves all that praise - and came up with a great many things, some of which were obliquely jealousy, and some of which equate hunger with friendship. it's half fiction, and edited, and only half of it, since hunger I'll share, but - ironically - jealousy I won't.
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things you can't really have taste much better than those you can. fresh berries that are out of season are always the most coveted; the memory of juicy pineapple is ten times better than the real thing. to remember food, the meals that you've had before and can no longer consume - that was what I had always been lead to believe passion was. no one has dissuaded me of it.
Eating was like kissing, not sating and it made me slightly dizzy. I don't mean to say I was specifically dieting - my weight wasn't the thing I wished to control. my weight didn't even register. it was my will I desperately yearned to harness - if I conquered the desire to eat, then I succeeded in something. It was a measure of determination. Just the same, if I could stay away from those people who ended up fulfilling that desperate craving in my stomach for joy, then I would have conquered another excess.
Perhaps it doesn't make sense to you - but that was how I saw friendship, like a diet you had to stick to. I still don't know where the belief came from but it persists. when you can regulate what and who you need, you are a little more in control of your own self. we cannot control anything else, the world, people. even our insides change so constantly nothing makes any sense. so to regulate excesses like food and love is greatly comforting.
for those people who can find comfort elsewhere, who don't have anxiety pangs in nearly every physical space, this kind of things maybe doesn't mean a thing. but I can only truely feel comfortable eating anywhere unless I feel totally at home there - and how often does that happen? the illusion of safety may provide a relative sanctuary out somewhere, and if I can relax, I can eat, food and people. but that's transitory, a fleeting sensation. deep down, I know no one and nowhere is safe.
so hunger feels good. because even though its a craving, that feeling of wanting something and then ultimately denying it to yourself is also satisfying. is it more satisfying than the eventual food would be? you never know. but the memory of a mango, tangy and a little sour, is much better than biting into a dry one and being disappointed.
the true goal, however crazy it may sound, is to go without mango long enough that you forget its taste altogether. so instead of feeling your stomach clench and immediately thinking of a juicy meal, instead you just have that horrible empty feeling and nothing else. this is good because it means you can never be disappointed, you have regulated yourself down to nothing. and nothing has nothing to be terrified of.
I can't seem to do this when it comes to friendship as easily as food. always I end up trying to find a way to communicate that desperate empty hole. no one can fill it of course, its my hole and I made it. yet I'm disappointed every time they don't succeed.
~
So anyway.
When I was in calgary, it was snowing, little flakes that meant business. in Calgary, the snow was there to stay. I came back to Vancouver and the temperature had dropped, oh, it must have been ten degrees, but it was clear and sunny despite the chill in the air. Toronto was raining. It feels like the weather has played musical chairs, and landed somewhere new. Nowhere in this country, however, could you mistake it for anything but winter anymore. That illusion - eighteen degrees last sunday in Calgary, sunny in Toronto until this week, and scattered clouds over BC - is gone.
I find that I can only sustain conversation with anyone at any given point for a maximum of a few hours, and then there's nothing to say. a weekend away, where tantalizing conversation is the norm, was possibly not the best way to usher in the new season. regardless, it's done, and gone and gone and I'm not coming back.
I guess there are lots of other fears I could outline in excruciating detail, not to mention the fact that I woke up from a nightmare at four am this morning dreaming that someone slit my throat. but I'm on a diet.
~
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