the stories and the value i put upon them, changes moment by moment.

yesterday was so beautiful. at the time, james said it was because it was a whole new world.
now i see it as the fuck of death, like in an x-rated godfather, because that was the best good bye sex i've ever had. didn't know he had it in him.

so now i believe no one, least of all myself, and my own stories and takes.

because in the moment he said i was his soul mate and that any other relationship would maybe be okay, but he'd always be wondering what i was up to. he said his body can't leave me, and even when he tried on the motorcyle that time, he had to come back. said, "and you KNOW i'm not into fat women but when you were fat i was still very attracted to you. i was attracted to you before i knew you, from afar."

and he said, "look, you just talk about sex and i have a hard on."

and he did. but i wasn't the one talking about sex.

and so it all seemed so real at the time. no one had ever lain down their rakes and claimed me as his or her own. i'm the in-between girl. the one you call at 3am when you've got the heebie jeebies about how you're gonna die and what's this all about?

i live there full time.

that's why i don't know how i'm possibly not gonna end up like maccaulay caulkin. he looks like how i FEEL. i saw that photo today and raised a toast to him because, "buddy, save me a seat wherever you're going. i'm right behind you."

fuck. i said no to so much for so many years, and five dates in i'm back where i started.

anyhow, there's no point in trying to figure the logic.

i like that i'm good at cutting my losses long after they're long since beaten dead horses.
cripes.
my timing.

i've learned nothing from anything recently. only you're fucked either way. play it safe, play it crazy.

now you see that my stories have rambling plots because so does my LIFE.

yesterday was so beautiful. a goodbye fuck. how do you get into character for that?

i'm way out of my element. i've been hustled by a fucking bunny rabbit person.

all because i wanted something clean, innocent and pure.

who's the fucking monster?

i've never lied about a thing. even when it cost me. no, ESPECIALLY when it cost me.

but i live in an anachronistic made up irrelevant way.

what's the fucking point of all this shit?

i was doing so much better when i was an asshole full time.

anyhow, james is getting his stuff out of the apartment tomorrow.
and i can get high, listen to music with the windows open like now.
i can hear the kids screaming in the dark out back. i love it.
it's like summertime in the mission.

i love it here.

james wanted the apartment.

i said "i've had enough of your manifest destiny. this apartment is MINE."

and so i cut him out like a bad memory that i will polish into something sweet that i can tuck in my pocket and feel good about.

i already know i learned a lot.

my biggest regret isn't "everything." nah. i did stuff i wanted to do anyway. but i regret only two things: not fucking the snakefucker when he was here in san francisco that time, and i fucking SILKSCREENED instead (ugh). now i'd rather have the memory of an adventure and sleeping through to see it to the morning for a change.

that was how i would keep from falling in love. keep it light. jumpy. jump home before light.

cuddling makes us all soul mates.

i still think all the other shit is silly toothpaste cap arguing about shit that doesn't matter.

anyhow, i don't think it's so good to compartmentalize in friends or even lovers, anymore.
maybe it has its place when you're a young whippersnapper and are jumping all over the place.


that's why when a man says that to me, like james for instance, it's too much like the male version of women's BEST FRIEND.

like is there only ONE? what if i have one best friend for this side of me, and another best friend for...?

anyhow, i'm not at all trying to make light of this. i just need a break from all the bleak "Tron" spaceless despair, and i enjoy being by myself and not having to consider anyone else in the room.

and if i come to look like i feel inside (poor dear, used maccaulay culkin), then i guess my life was about living out a french film, like one where the mother's a heartless whore and the stepfather beats the child and they all have a christmas tree that catches on fire and kills everyone in the whole apartment building.

i have hoop earrings.

and someone else will come along and find my superhero earrings in the ashes and put them on and get a bad, bad look in her eye and she's not living in the beige.

but it's a brutal life. pick a family that throws you around like a samsonite suitcase, if you want the head start on good stories for the dinner table.

did you ever see the french flick, "la chienne"? the bitch.
i fucking loved it. saw it at a revival house.
by jean renoir, 1931.
i seem to remember it's about the downfall of a guy who becomes a backslapping hobo.

time to look for the video and some inspiration.

and the second thing i regret is tying my financial plans to such a person. god, it was like he did it to get his tentacles into me.

a lot of this is need and terror of being alone. that's why i knew i was never "HIS." i can't fill all his NEEEEEED. that's why we were never all into each other that way, and it was a fuck buddy relationship from the start, even as i fell in love with HIM.

i can't explain. but even though he's bigger than me and 2 years older, he's like a child and i've had to be very nurturing to keep him feeling steady and solid and reassure HIM that home was solid.

he knew i'd keep my word.

fuck. i used to think it was proud thing to be the last one standing in the room, ready to face anything, deal. be there. invest.

nah, but i still prefer being this way.

i think when you're too needy and desperate, you've got little troll demons inside you waiting to come out and sandbag you.

i actually handled kissing him, fucking him and having my first definite vaginal orgasms from a man (fingers? all the time and i hate dildoes), and i handled him waking up and saying, "nope. not into you after all. let's break up."

all like the other day was another person.

and i look at myself in the mirror and i can't even go to hating myself right now, no matter how sad i am.

i agree with james when he also said, "and i've never been more attracted to you than i am now" because i'd have to agree.

i'm sad, but i can't really wallow in taking it personally. first i'm wondering if i had bad breath or something.

but nah, i don't know what happened. it was pretty amazing. he was ready to go not even 15 minutes after the first one popped off.

oh well, he'll be out tomorrow. i'll reorganize the apartment and sob sometimes and feel closer to maccaulay culkin every day.

but as bad as everything is right now, i'm starting to laugh like at the end of "la chienne."

but there'll be moments when james is lonely and he'll call in late night sobs and this time i have to treat them like fingernails on a chalkboard, because it's time for him to fly and find himself.

i'm not meant for this relationship shit.

is it so meat and potatoes unsexy to find one fucking person and just pretend everyone else is dead? and if someone comes along, fuck 'em, but don't CUDDLE or KISS 'em too much and keep the fantasy in its pants, at least --i mean if one HAS to cat around, or if one HAS to be celibate---and everything doesn't have to be so dramatic and go to shit all the time.

i think being fucked up is a good thing. i think everyone is like children out there, looking for a True Love that runs in misty watered colored slow motion.

fuck. for me romance is, "hey, you're still there?"

that's better than, "you're my soul mate."

fucking soul mate. that ranks up there with "trust me" or saying "i love you" while fucking.

this is what i get for walking among regular folks.
i should've stayed beneath the rocks where it's dark and moist.

(i'm coming, maccaulay!)

e