2 November 2000
distasteful thoughts -|-
musings of señor prod. -|-
i'll try to forget your name
Never mind the fact that what has become of you, in a very real and intractable way, is because of
me. But nevertheless, I hate it when I feel entitled to something. I'm not entitled, I just hope
for your attention, for a sense of connection, for a sense that the relationship between us is more
than I'd once introduced you to the life you now lead and now I'm a tolerable bystander, good for
a lure for each desire, for touch, for intimacy...
"a pause that gathered in my chest a desperation,
a lure for each desire, for touch, for intimacy,
and a raw and hungry need to dance
among the ghosts that lingered below,
waiting for a sun to extinguish them."
Yesterday I had a headache. Now, for those of you who know me, the fact that I even mention it
shows how bad it was. It was worth mentioning. There is, of course, something about illness,
and physical distress which reminds me, puts into sharp relief the fact that I do not currently
have a romantic interest, or, more precisely, a woman in whom I'm romantically interested who
just to happens to have a reciprocal interest in me. Long story short, no girlfriend. Not that
this is a huge crisis for me, as my double standards are too high; or, perhaps, the anecdote
more telling is a variant on the Groucho Marx one-liner, I don't seem to want to have a girlfriend
who would have me as a boyfriend. But I'm not writing about my romantic woes, exactly. It's more
about romantic involvement as applies to having a headache (some may say "Is there a
difference???" here), and, I guess, by extension, romantic woes as applies to any physical
illness or discomfort. That last sentence was awful.
Anyway, about romantic involvement as applies to having a headache, and as applies to when it is
considered and evaluated. It is horrible to be sick and not have a girlfriend to take care of you.
What I mean is, it's nice to have friends who bring you a glass of water, who gently rub your
shoulder sympathetically, and generally act nice to you. However, there is something missing, some
soothing connection which is absent in friends.
What I felt yesterday, and often other times, is
the lure for that person to complete me, and that person to complete. When the pain was wringing
through the left side of my head, I wanted to lay it upon the chest of a lover. I wanted to hear
her breathe, to feel her hands on my head fall gently. By that token, I want someone for whom
I can be that. When she is in pain, I want to be on the list of curatives.
Yesterday, I wanted it badly.
musings of señor prod.
The Revolution's opening up a
can of whoop-ass. And we'd better win this time.