so, we've been trying to listen to madonna's confessions of a dance floor and really, i think the misconstrued title is best. a floor would have more to say than madonna. she was going on and on the other day and ch said,"really madonna, you know it doesn't become more insightful if you repeat it over and over again. it's still a stupid lyric."
that makes me think of other dance music, things that are repeated over and over again, that do become more elaborate with repetition. you know where this is going. what do i do when i'm all alone at the flowershop? same as always, put on everything but the girl and get out the lyrics. they're all speaking to me these days, but i'm not quite ready to share- my mind's too mixed up, i don't know what i'm thinking. i just do the basic "do you get me? do you ever get me?"
so if i'm not doing lyrics for myself, i thought i should pull them for other people. first, for g, i am always singing missing:
"I step off the train, I'm walking down your street again, and past your door, but you don't live there anymore. It's years since you've been there. Now you've disappeared somewhere like outer space, you've found some better place, and I miss you- like the deserts miss the rain. Could you be dead? You always were two steps ahead of everyone. We'd walk behind while you would run. I look up at your house, and I can almost hear you shout down to me where I always used to be, and I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain. Back on the train, I ask why did I come again. Can I confess I've been hanging around your old address? And the years have proven to offer nothing since you moved. You're long gone but I can't move on, and I miss you -like the deserts miss the rain."
jen was asking about g the other day, and i really had nothing new to add- i hadn't heard from her in ages. i don't remember what i'd said about joe, but jen gave a really observation that the thing that makes g so strong is that she knows who she is. and really believes it and won't let anyone talk her out of it. and i think this works for her in lots of different ways. it's why she's still a christian, even though she knows all these hippies. and why she's still with joe, even though i (and i'm sure others!) think he's bad news. and why she's not sleeping with him, which most people find just impossible to fathom. it's certainly a quality to be jelous of, i wish i had her confidence i'm as simpering as i feel z thinks i am. but i think if she wasn't so assured in her straightness, she wouldn't still be able to be friends with me. now of course this bums me out cause i'll always be in love with her, but i'm really glad that if she must be straight she can have enough assurance in that that she can still be my friend.
i sent out all these invites to come over and eat sometime, and only michelle has responded- kendal said maybe next week and amberlee invited me to her party on saturday. she said, bring a friend. and i'm like- you don't know my life. there is NO ONE i could take to a school networking party. it made me miss g so much- i still imagine her down in hyde park, since i'm not there anymore. my whole LIFE was there for so long, i can't imagine that i've left it all, and there's no one shouting down to me anymore. like the deserts miss the rain- the camera zooms away from her front porch diagonally, caticorner across the street from the SE corner where she lived to the NW corner where the bus stop is. the rain pours down on her ruby red slipper umbrella, we're both standing under it, 10pm. i'm on my way to the airport to pick up a, i'm holding a boquet of flowers for her, and g is going home. i say, "dame un veso" like the baby daniella used to do, and under the umbrella in the rain at the bus stop, g gives me a kiss on the lips.
so about a. i think the best song for her today is no difference: "You watch the phone Like it was the TV. If you're all alone, Well whose fault can that be? Your keys, your bag, your car - They're where they always are. And the light goes down And all the lights come on And they call to me, Oh come on, come on, And you don't make no difference to me. You look at me, And say "What you talking about?" Well me, I'm going out, With or without. I know I don't get far And we're where we always are. But the light goes down And all the lights come on, And they call to me, Oh come on, come on, And you don't make no difference to me. So you fix a drink, Cause it's time to drown, And the clock speeds up And then it slows right down. The life that we have missed, I think it still exists -How can you resist? But the light goes down And the steetlights shine, And they call to me, You'll be dead a long time And it makes a difference to me. And the light goes down And all the lights come on And they call to me, Oh come on. Come on. You can make a difference to me.Come on, make a difference to me."
she had another one night stand, called me yesterday to whine about it. she was upset when he wanted her information- why bother? they never call. she was trying to decide if she should go up and meet him in vale. "why not?" i asked. she said she was all tired, and hungover. and what happens next? she kept asking. what do you mean? i said. where would i sleep when i got there? she said. wherever you feel like it! i said. she kept saying what a sweet guy he was. i tend to believe that's not possible in straight men, but when she starts talking them up like this, i wish they could find a more loving and romantic girl, 'cause i don't think a is gonna be that for them. it really shocks me. was telling ch the story, saying i don't get it, and he's like, "come on, you should be used to this, you know me, gay men are worse." and i said, "no, i don't think so, even with your flings, there's not the impersonality." and he said, "yeah, it's the coldness that really shocks me. but that's what makes her a- that's why you two get along so well." and i wonder if it's true- that i am so overcome by too much emotion, and she has so little. we balance each other out.
when she called today though, she decided to go someplace else to hear his band play, and she'll hang out with him tonight. she sounded much more human. i told her i wouldn't post about how many times she called me to ask my opinion on what she should wear. it's funny she wants that kept out, but she kept giving me these great quotes about sex with him: she said, "i never had a guy come in my mouth before, but it wasn't so bad, it was actually really sweet.. so he MUST be a sweet guy, if even his cum is sweet!" and my favourite, she was talking about how he said he wanted to go down on her and she said she didn't feel comfortable with it. and i'm like, yeah right, he shouldn't take offense, really there's other things that work better for his trouble. and she laughed, and said she told him at one point, "yeah, sometimes i think i'm bi, but my best friend says i can't be if i don't like getting head."
so we all know that i talk about a WAY more than i should while having sex, but who would have thought she talks about me while having sex? i'm honored. but i mean really. it's gotta be a special sort of friendship, when you tell someone they're allowed to write about your pillow talk, but not when you get girly the day after. and to all those co workers of hers who wonder what that "blaucait" link is in the history... well, i can assure you a is not who you're working with. really. she doesn't really live in co. i made her up entirely. (her stories about me, though? they're all true.)
ok, so enough ebtg, and enough about my friends. this is my blog and you wanna hear about my life! nah. it's lame compared to that. i sit around work and listen to quiet music. ebtg, and the postal service cd i got ch for xmas- he left it here, so i've been spinning it, and damn it's good. here's exactly how i feel about love, it's called clark gable:
"I was waiting for a cross-town train in the london underground when it struck me that I've been waiting since birth to find a love that would look and sound like a movie. so I changed my plans I rented a camera and a van and then I called you. "I need you to pretend that we are in love again." and you agreed to. I want so badly to believe that "there is truth, that love is real" and I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd. I greased the lens and framed the shot using a friend as my stand-in. the script it called for rain but it was clear that day so we faked it. the marker snapped and I yelled "quiet on the set" and then called "action!" and I kissed you in a style clark gable would have admired (i thought it classic). I want so badly to believe that "there is truth, that love is real" and I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd i know you're wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear that your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by."
it's true. i don't believe in love, but i want so badly to. i miss the structure and absolutes of xianity. i know that fairy-tale/movie love isn't real, but i want it to be. so badly. i need to tell myself it is, just to get by.
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