My Mother's Son

"I told you man, it's not a dick, alright. It's a mouth-based video game."

Felt like I was watching the apocalypse from the other side of a window in my cozy home. My mother told me I'm a walking soap opera. Oops. I'm much more a mama's boy than a man. Hopefully this blog provides some evidence of that.



Memory is a flawed thing, especially when you're black out drunk. And I'm finding very little inter-subjectivity in all of this. I do not know the truth. All things considered, I know what I believe. I'm harboring moderate negativity for my friend and this lady. I don't think one is an absolute hedonist and I don't think the other is an absolute manipulator. I could sever the roots that lead them back to me—I'd rather not—but I do what I must to maintain a steady heartbeat. I'll try to be brief here. This fair lady and I went on a date. By the end of it we both didn't know how one felt about the other. It seemed as if her and my then roommate were hitting it off better than her and I, but I often think that with that room mate and every female. She stayed the night with me though. Then, a day later there was a party at my house and she sat me down for some real talk about her and I. We agreed that we liked each other but didn't know where we were going. Five minutes later I walked in on my room mate and her without pants, coupled with a look of horror on this girl's face. I was too drunk and busy to care though. It was agreed that my room mate was responsible for that. We proceeded to date and I proceeded to distrust my room mate and her's "platonic" friendship (neither of them know what the fuck platonic means.) They both reassured me nothing was going down, despite the appearance that they were much more a couple than her and I. They're both "touchy" people so on and so forth. Another week or so and she was prepared to commit. Due to feeling smothered and her relationship with my friend I was unsure. This saddened her. Things came to a boil one evening and I was determined to know my decision the next time I saw her. In this time I later learned that they drove away from a party drunk together so my friend could sleep at her place, in her bed no less. And even later, much later I learned she said something to the effect that her and I weren't technically together to him whilst in the same bed. The next time I saw this "fair" lady I was prepared to give her my decision, which was that I wasn't ready to let go just yet. I was ready to drop all the nonsense, my confused heart, and just go with it. So she said that she had turned a 180 on that. She was ready to part ways after two days of space. After explaining myself though, we were in agreement, we were going to give each other a chance. We had a fun few weeks or so; sleep overs, parties, and lots of eating out (food). It was decided that her and my friends were going to synchronize their agendas and road trip together, to Texas. This didn't bother me all too much, though I don't think that mattered to them. There are a few pertinent details that I skip here. Fast forward to the day they were back, she asked if I wanted to hang out since she was in the area, I said sure and figured out plans. I get to her house and she hadn't yet found the time to shower. I pass on the shower. I receive a call from a friend's number that was on the road trip, it was my former room mate. Quickly he asked if I was with her, I was, then he said he hated to tell me like this but they had slept (fucked) together on the road trip and that she's crazy. I wasn't all that surprised and an immense numb washed over me, but I decided to play it cool until I could talk with my friends that were on that road trip. Playing it cool, in this context, means lying and acting like nothing was going on to my then girlfriend—dishonest, I know. Come Sunday, I talked with everyone but my girlfriend about all that had transpired over the road trip. My former room mate and her had already been receiving sidelong glances from various friends that knew her and I were together at the time. It was time for us to break up. She came over to my house after I failed miserably at breaking up with her over the phone. I told her all of what my friends had told me, she was in shock. She couldn't believe it. She denied it. So she says if anything happened she wouldn't have consented to it, but she also says she doesn't remember. There are implications of how it is all him, my friend, the hedonist, he took advantage, he's a creep. Their relationship was shady to begin with. She pleads to me as a victim, and maybe she is. Maybe she's her own victim, maybe she's her mother's daughter. She didn't want her last memory of me to be the display of rudeness the morning after I heard that she'd slept with my friend. But what's done is done. All that I'm certain of is that if anyone got fucked in this exchange it was me. I can't believe everything either of them say. And I'm done speculating on their trespasses. This is only my statement, for hers see: http://xokristinashley.blogspot.com/2010/03/velvet-teen-et-moi.html

For whatever miraculous reason I'm not torn up over this. I'm not a victim. My heart wasn't all there, we were giving each other a chance and it took only one thing to tip the scale. They're both forgiven, I've just withdrawn some trust and affection. My friend and landlord said, "Well if you're not going to be mad at them, then who?" Good point. My answer is self-evident. This lack of animosity is no doubt one of my many subterfuges to my problems. I do not accept alcohol as an excuse.

So much for brevity. This blog's going to be a two parter because there's no fucking way this is all I'm writing about March.

Tantamount

"But history, as the old man puts it, weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living."

Pandora comes to on all fours encompassed by darkness. She was wandering occasionally hanging her head down to the ground, foraging for anything to eat, to drink. She needn't shelter, she's provided for. She doesn't know what she's seeking, she's following her body—the biological imperative to live. She steps off the dirt onto a bold line of concrete, no visible end left or right. Her ear twitches, she hears something to her right, she turns her head as she continues to graze forward. She is an alien standing in the dark and in the distance she spots a flicker of light. She stands on the road—confused. That distant wisp of light is curving far away from her, almost like a firefly hovering around her range of vision. She watches from afar as the light zigzags in the air. Perhaps the light provides something to nourish her. She has no past experience of lights to compare this to, none that she can recall. She has no expectations. Now what was once that firefly wisp lands on equal plane with her, no longer so distant and small, growing larger as it approaches and obscures all darkness in it's path. She suspects nothing of what this light might do to her. She has no intentions as to how she'll behave upon acquainting this light. She senses nothing predatory of it, she senses nothing life-like about it. She doesn't know what follows the light. She does not trust or distrust the light. She stares—entranced. The light and her oppose each other, contending two polars of boundless night. She is caught off guard—not to be confused with letting her guard down. Now closer, it illuminates her form. She is now self aware. The light has changed her surroundings, making them distinct, separate. She was alone, now the light invades her consciousness. Beaming closer without hesitation the light grows and blinds with every measure it gains. Though her gaze is fixed, her eyes find nothing but contraction. To jump into another stretch of earth, to continue on alone; the instinct to do so occurs to her but still she stands. She leads a carefree life, the approaching light brings weight upon her chest, into her stomach. The standard response to weight is escape (to carry on weightless, unscathed), but her feet are braced to the pavement. She is confronted with the unknown. She has no idea, she has no ideas. She has no concept of industry. A quadruped, completely nude, paralyzed; much like the addicts hands, experiencing withdrawals. All fight or flight procedures have been suspended, she's frozen in reverence of this holiest of moments. Perhaps the light will tear her apart. Fright overcomes her, she braces herself still. What it will do to her upon their embrace, she now fears. Her shadow is cast tall to her left. A lone creature in the spotlight shaking and cold as the distance closes. This oncoming light may very well not even be a car. There is nothing else in this night anymore, just that light. They're close now, she's no longer frightened but she still can not make the jump, not yet. She feels nothing more, knows nothing but closeness, familiarity. The light is steadfast on it's course. She is innocent. She is living. She is curious. She now eclipses the light. She still hasn't made a move. Perhaps the light is divine. This doe won't know until they're immersed. It immolates her silhouette now. In this moment she still has time to jump. [All perspectives must leave the scene before they make contact.]

*

Now, because I have arbitrary quotas to to fulfill for myself I'll type some non-fiction in a few hundred words. The bit posted above is in the state that I post everything on the internet: rough. Let me know what you think. Onto my life, what's to share? I am finally a server at work though I'm still training. I took my own section this evening and it was an adequate success. I've been alright, been keeping an even keel for the most part. I have a girlfriend now, she reads this, we're giving each other a chance and having fun, I think. I'm listening to Why? right now. I enjoy it. My roommate moved out this past month to begin his travels, godspeed him! I'm finding love among friends again lately, still missing some of them a lot of the time. I got my head shaved. This nonfiction is uninspired. Deal with it.

It's odd that it's been one month exactly since my last update, and it's completely by chance. If I could've typed this earlier I would've, I was having a hard time typing that thing above, this just happens to be when I completed it. (I use completed loosely.) Same with the month before that too. I find it odd that 'I' is the unconditionally capitalized pronoun, whereas 'the' is a word that is only capitalized when it's the beginning of a title or line. Whoever has my copy of Breakfast of Champions and my Choke DVD is an asshole, I hate when I lend shit to people and they just absorb it into their collection, proud that I've forgotten that they're the one who's "borrowing" it--fuck that. I'm doing that with one person's DVD and I still intend to return it if they want it. 95 words more should do the trick, I'll just end where I end whichever word on this ramble that so happens to be.

We got the internet and there was absolutely no transition between my weekly use of it into my constant use of it. I can safely say I'm still addicted. I sure am tired. I intend on buying a car when I'm 24, by that time maybe the recession will be a bit less of a burden, also I'll be part of a cheaper demographic for insurance, also hopefully I'll have saved...