It's Like This:
Monday, September 01, 2008
You should really just read remainsofthegay.blogspot.com, because it is much cooler and less mopey and I actually write in it.
¶ 7:24 AM 0 Comments
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Names of Early Magnetic Fields Songs With The Word "Moon" Replaced By The Word "Therapist"
You And Me And The Therapist
The Dreaming Therapist
Sad Little Therapist
Save A Secret For The Therapist
Lovers From The Therapist
I Have The Therapist*
*who keeps dragging the conversation back to "low-grade depression" when I'm really just here to parse out my feelings of gender dysphoria. ¶ 1:18 AM 0 Comments
You And Me And The Therapist
The Dreaming Therapist
Sad Little Therapist
Save A Secret For The Therapist
Lovers From The Therapist
I Have The Therapist*
*who keeps dragging the conversation back to "low-grade depression" when I'm really just here to parse out my feelings of gender dysphoria. ¶ 1:18 AM 0 Comments
Saturday, December 15, 2007
The standard end of term reflection/complaint is upon us again. Tonight has been up and down and up. Packing has been mostly smooth, but then I left to meet up with this really great kid at a party thrown by someone I despise. The party wasn't so bad, though I definitely had some moments of staring out quietly amid the madness a la Garden State. Then the kid and I left and had a conversation we should have had four months ago, about how I'm basically in love with him even though I know it doesn't make sense, and he basically said, "yeah, you're right, you're really great but I'm sorry." And I cried, which felt good, but I felt pretty sheepish about it. How lame is it to have someone sitting in your dark room (he'd already packed the lamps) a) liking you unrequitedly and b) crying in your arms about it? But he was very sweet.
So then I went to my studio and broke some pots I wasn't happy with, walked home in the ice singing Joni Mitchell and decided to not drink another beer. Or pack, for now. Instead, I made some tea and watched some porn. Then, on a whim, I looked up the one and only fan-fiction I ever wrote from sophomore year of high school (Conor Oberst/Joe Knapp, of course), just to see how it read. It wasn't so bad, if flowery and written by someone who had never had sex or gotten drunk, both of which were key plot elements, naturally. Then I was eyeing the "feedback" box, and wondering, "Did anyone ever give me any feedback on this shit?" And they had! In droves! Well, not droves, but all of the comments were very complimentary, and, perhaps more pointedly, seemingly written by articulate people. A reoccuring theme was "write more!" Perhaps I should quit this poetry/short story business and revert to the form of my previous sucess.
¶ 4:15 AM 0 Comments
So then I went to my studio and broke some pots I wasn't happy with, walked home in the ice singing Joni Mitchell and decided to not drink another beer. Or pack, for now. Instead, I made some tea and watched some porn. Then, on a whim, I looked up the one and only fan-fiction I ever wrote from sophomore year of high school (Conor Oberst/Joe Knapp, of course), just to see how it read. It wasn't so bad, if flowery and written by someone who had never had sex or gotten drunk, both of which were key plot elements, naturally. Then I was eyeing the "feedback" box, and wondering, "Did anyone ever give me any feedback on this shit?" And they had! In droves! Well, not droves, but all of the comments were very complimentary, and, perhaps more pointedly, seemingly written by articulate people. A reoccuring theme was "write more!" Perhaps I should quit this poetry/short story business and revert to the form of my previous sucess.
¶ 4:15 AM 0 Comments
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Remember the entry about the kid where if you cut him open, you could find planets? I may have been overstating the matter. I have a sickening feeling that actually, if you cut him open, you'd just find a lot of Space, maybe a couple of meteors, a frozen, gaseous, unpopulated planet on a perpendicular axis (Uranus?), and a big black hole. (If you interpreted these items as heavy-handed but fitting (ha-ha) allusions to anal sex, you'd be right.)
Anyway, the sickening part of the feeling comes from the fact that I guess I probably lied to him a bit, or at least overstated the matter, once again. He really wants me to move up to P_______ and be his girlfriend, which, though I spent the last couple months writing him affectionate postcards and myspace messages ( barf ), I just suddenly realized I have very little desire to do. In addition to my gradual to sudden realization (think exponential function graphed) that he's kind of (understating the matter?) a "loser" for most intents and purposes, I just plain don't have the money to live anywhere but my parent's house this summer (free bed, free grilled cheese sandwiches, free parental affection). I'm also sickened by the fact that this kid will invariably flip the fuck out when I tell him this, since I hate fighting in relationships (or whatever the hell this is), especially when I really probably hold the more reasonable position. I don't want to see him heartbroken by my hand when he was nice enough to provide me with three whole days of good beer, unending compliments, yummy scrambled eggs and phenomenal head, but at the same time, it doesn't mean that I owe him my summer, or anything, really, but general human kindness, right? Oh gosh.
Also, here's a poll: should I be a nanny for a week around Solstice time and get to hang out at an amazing hippie hot springs for free, or go see Feist, like I'd agreed to, with the kid? Which is better, or more noble, or more conscionable? But think of it: hot springs!!! ¶ 4:16 PM 2 Comments
Anyway, the sickening part of the feeling comes from the fact that I guess I probably lied to him a bit, or at least overstated the matter, once again. He really wants me to move up to P_______ and be his girlfriend, which, though I spent the last couple months writing him affectionate postcards and myspace messages ( barf ), I just suddenly realized I have very little desire to do. In addition to my gradual to sudden realization (think exponential function graphed) that he's kind of (understating the matter?) a "loser" for most intents and purposes, I just plain don't have the money to live anywhere but my parent's house this summer (free bed, free grilled cheese sandwiches, free parental affection). I'm also sickened by the fact that this kid will invariably flip the fuck out when I tell him this, since I hate fighting in relationships (or whatever the hell this is), especially when I really probably hold the more reasonable position. I don't want to see him heartbroken by my hand when he was nice enough to provide me with three whole days of good beer, unending compliments, yummy scrambled eggs and phenomenal head, but at the same time, it doesn't mean that I owe him my summer, or anything, really, but general human kindness, right? Oh gosh.
Also, here's a poll: should I be a nanny for a week around Solstice time and get to hang out at an amazing hippie hot springs for free, or go see Feist, like I'd agreed to, with the kid? Which is better, or more noble, or more conscionable? But think of it: hot springs!!! ¶ 4:16 PM 2 Comments
Thursday, May 24, 2007
I have a profound and gigantic paper I need to be writing, but when was the last time I lived my life efficiently? God, I just can't wait for school to be over so I can go back to Oregon and do nothing but ride my bike around and talk about indie rock and be a loser. I think I've had quite enough of this feeling obligated to think in important ways. It's good and all, but Mr. Bach is incredibly uninspiring. Don't tell him that.
I will be the Lit representative for SEPC next term, but only because no one else ran. Hoo-ray. I was hoping it would be a tight race between me and some dick from First Street, and that I would somehow prove my mettle. Oh well. At least I'll get to hang around with M. Feit. all the time.
One of these days I think I might just break down and start living as a man. Not that it will necessarily alleviate anything, but somehow it seems more appropriate. I was speculating on it today. Does being minorly trans mean that I'm rejecting the wisdom of my womanhood, that I am, gasp, somewhat unfeminist, in a strict sense? Sometimes I feel like the only things keeping me in pigtails and skirts are Third Waver guilt and vanity about my gams.
Christ, I think I'll take a shit and get back to work.
Did you ever have someone ask you for nail polish, and you asked her what for, and she said, "to kill a moth with?" Sometimes I wonder about people and their moral systems. Doesn't everyone recite "Hurt No Living Thing" to themselves every once in a while?
The Library is currently a sweat pit, and the Thirsty Thursday noise is coming in the open windows. I feel so chained up, in a terribly self-absorbed little liberal way. It's like some movie about an office worker in Iceland, feeling trapped: You may be terribly depressed and frustrated with your life, Bjorn, but you have no right to complain. You have socialized health care, and an excellent government, and a low infant mortality rate. Just because you're not living in Spain or something doesn't mean you shouldn't be at least minorly enjoying yourself.
On that note, I think I'll go and come back and then try to write this beast for Bach and try to at least minorly enjoy myself.
And happy birthday Lucas; I am a bad friend and I forgot to call you.
¶ 9:41 PM 0 Comments
I will be the Lit representative for SEPC next term, but only because no one else ran. Hoo-ray. I was hoping it would be a tight race between me and some dick from First Street, and that I would somehow prove my mettle. Oh well. At least I'll get to hang around with M. Feit. all the time.
One of these days I think I might just break down and start living as a man. Not that it will necessarily alleviate anything, but somehow it seems more appropriate. I was speculating on it today. Does being minorly trans mean that I'm rejecting the wisdom of my womanhood, that I am, gasp, somewhat unfeminist, in a strict sense? Sometimes I feel like the only things keeping me in pigtails and skirts are Third Waver guilt and vanity about my gams.
Christ, I think I'll take a shit and get back to work.
Did you ever have someone ask you for nail polish, and you asked her what for, and she said, "to kill a moth with?" Sometimes I wonder about people and their moral systems. Doesn't everyone recite "Hurt No Living Thing" to themselves every once in a while?
The Library is currently a sweat pit, and the Thirsty Thursday noise is coming in the open windows. I feel so chained up, in a terribly self-absorbed little liberal way. It's like some movie about an office worker in Iceland, feeling trapped: You may be terribly depressed and frustrated with your life, Bjorn, but you have no right to complain. You have socialized health care, and an excellent government, and a low infant mortality rate. Just because you're not living in Spain or something doesn't mean you shouldn't be at least minorly enjoying yourself.
On that note, I think I'll go and come back and then try to write this beast for Bach and try to at least minorly enjoy myself.
And happy birthday Lucas; I am a bad friend and I forgot to call you.
¶ 9:41 PM 0 Comments
Thursday, April 19, 2007
The following is a direct transcript, dated 1/1/07.
1.
I don’t really want to break up.
2.
I think I might. (laughs) Is there any nice way of putting that?
1.
I guess not.
2.
…I mean, so, if I can’t bring my A-game, I don’t want to be, like, letting the team down.
1.
I didn’t realize this was a team sport.
2.
It’s a very small team. Of two. Maybe I should just become a Little League coach. And then break up with all the kids.
Let this be a warning to anyone who would ever concieveably want to date me.
¶ 2:21 AM 1 Comments
1.
I don’t really want to break up.
2.
I think I might. (laughs) Is there any nice way of putting that?
1.
I guess not.
2.
…I mean, so, if I can’t bring my A-game, I don’t want to be, like, letting the team down.
1.
I didn’t realize this was a team sport.
2.
It’s a very small team. Of two. Maybe I should just become a Little League coach. And then break up with all the kids.
Let this be a warning to anyone who would ever concieveably want to date me.
¶ 2:21 AM 1 Comments
Sunday, April 01, 2007
But then some snaking kids in masks cut in front of her, and he kept dancing with his back to her and some unknown small girl dancing close between his arms. She felt an almost forceful psychic pull toward the door, but a little barb of hormonal sentiment caught at her slip, and she hung on the floor for a second, only sad because she knew she'd been wasting her time and no one likes to be ignored.
She did give into that pull. She picked up her jacket from under the couch, found the guy she had come with dancing on a table and pointed in the direction of their house, and left, crunching across the new April frost under a bright moon, tired and already hungry for breakfast.
¶ 2:29 AM 0 Comments
She did give into that pull. She picked up her jacket from under the couch, found the guy she had come with dancing on a table and pointed in the direction of their house, and left, crunching across the new April frost under a bright moon, tired and already hungry for breakfast.
¶ 2:29 AM 0 Comments
