REPORT A PROBLEM
February... time for something new. Less boring personal experience, more introspection. What is friendship? A foundation upon which to build? Or a barrier to intimacy? Whichever the case, I am nervous and backing off... far off. Love as I have known it has been illness, weakness, possessive. How could it have been love? I have never been in love, then. I know nothing of the subject. Trite maxims and catchy lies spun by the cleverest poets and pop musicians cannot save a soul from starvation. An empty heart, brittle as dry leaves, crumbles to dust and blows away.
Dear Iman called yesterday about writing the reflexology examination which I have forgone on the advice of my doctor and in some stupid sense of loyalty to an imagined soulmate who may never appear. When she asked why the doctor advised this I could not tell her. She asked if I had found a girlfriend. She has invited me to her home for a visit but I have caught Kevin's cold so I will be staying in this weekend. I have missed Iman. Again this morning on the bus, the girl with the nice hands... this time our eyes met.
Chicken dhansak and naan, birthday cake and chocolate mint ice cream... I love my parents, much as they squabble. Home again, high, ready for bed, well fed. Intense insecurity. 'Keep your mouth shut...' words to live by. Control... No, I don't want that. I just want to share everything with somebody... to really know someone... to really trust. I must ask my sister Iman for advice. I would like to ask you for advice too but I am afraid that I have already pushed too hard. I will never forgive myself if I have frightened you. I am your servant.
Once you apologized for your inky hands... don't you know I'd love you if you had no hands or feet at all? Great plans of going to ‘Lord of the Rings' today... slept through. A long weekend is meaningless. More time for nightmares. More time to stay in bed and hopefully get over this cold. Digby has decided that my bed is the best place in the house for washing himself... lucky me. More snow and wind makes it nice to be home. I hope you are safe and warm. I will stop writing to you... it may be harassment.
I could think of you as my sister... Or I could be your pet, your servant, your toy... whatever... I just want to know you. Cynthia is so nice. She always smiles. Someone else to be thankful for. And Jennifer Garner... what a wonderful face... And if Drew Barrymore just wants a foot massage and a cup of tea she could give me a call. I don't much like those boring Hollywood parties either and I won't be flying off to Hawaii for surfing very often. By the way Drew, your chin is cute and your voice is really nice.
Happy birthday to me. My filthy toilet is clogged and overflowing and no plunger in sight. My bathroom smells like a bog... memories of South East Asia... home sweet home. I love my coworkers. They got me a card. I am touched. Was that you last night in a hood, nearly running me down just ahead of your boyfriend? I wish I could remember his name... he deserves better from me. I pray I haven't wronged him - or you - in any way. But enough about you... it is my birthday after all. Love vs. lust... who cares wins....
Is it painfully clear now how very clumsy I am with women? I just have no sense of the depth of a relationship. I don't know when or how soon or even how to proceed when I like somebody. I can't communicate what I want without screwing it up. Honesty is ‘too much information.' The successful male keeps secrets about himself (lies) until his victim sleeps with him or falls in love with him or marries him or whatever. Frequenting prostitutes seems morally upright by comparison. YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH. Fuck it then. I'll lie. Truth, rest in peace.
Above The Earth... I am enamoured of your world. I feel you. Your words strike some soothing chord in me... the inner child? Please keep writing! I wish I could write while I am above the earth... I lack discipline. But sometimes a few words are worth carrying from my comfortable though bedraggled black notebook to the great mind-fuck that is 100 Words. Light upon light, my beloved, my sun... you rise as I fall... total eclipse, my only hope, perhaps never to be. Still, I am comforted by the thought that beneath the facade of separation we are One.
Goal-setting... Wes would like me to be less angry and violent while I work. Coffee makes me intense. I felt I had hit my stride. But why not ease up if people are uncomfortable? I love the girls at KOD! They are always so sweet and kind... ‘Extra tomatoes? wrapped? Have a nice night...' So my night is off to a good start until I slip on ice and notice everybody I love avoiding me. BIF, I LOVE YOU!!! ‘I Love Myself Today,' might really help me... and I can't help noticing how great you look in those black stilettos!
How irresponsible of me to write about other people online without their permission... very sorry all... this will stop. The Dance of the Seven Veils begins. I am in love with a metaphor. I need to get a life. Women are forbidden unless they offer themselves to me. I won't be free until some woman takes it upon herself to say, ‘I forgive you,' or ,‘Come with me,' or something equally specific. I want to ask people out, really I do. But I can't imagine that I'd ever be good enough for any of you. Love desperately seeks the Beloved.
From above... Watching ‘Natural Born Killers'... Disturbed. Wishing I could just find somebody to hang out with, write, get high and have a deep relationship with. Somebody to live with. Co-dependently. But I have all this shit hanging over me. Rape accusation. What does, ‘No contest,' mean? I don't remember the incident that well. Possible sexual assaults... Silence is not consent. YES means proceed... anything else is not consent. Guilty. Thievery. Guilty. Vandalism. Guilty. Drug abuse. Guilty. Public drunkenness. Guilty. Gossip. Guilty. Lies. Guilty. Treachery. Guilty. Blasphemy. Guilty. Heresy. Guilty. Fornication. Guilty. Masturbation. Guilty. Insanity. Most certainly. Beyond redemption. Repentant.
Ritual. I love the ritual of certain activities. The mundane can be sacred. Especially if there is transformation from one element to another through the agency of some third... earth to air by fire, for example... and a resulting change in awareness or consciousness. Contemplate the four elements and the eight offspring thereof. Is ritual an addiction? WHO IS ZINA? I am troubled by her last few messages... I worry. Brian suggests I forget about her. I suppose he's right. Being dumped online is easier to accept than being dumped face to face. No more internet relationships. I'm too trusting.
‘You're not ready for a relationship,‘ said Lynn. At the time it didn't bother me. Later I slammed everything in sight and shouted obscenities at womankind. After five years I am not ready? Screw love. Screw Valentine's Day. Screw schoolboy crushes on coworkers and complete strangers, no matter how perfect. Must I pick one? Shall I choose the new, improved, concentrated, shorter version? The original? No, the original is unavailable. Perhaps the most recent... Is it the face or the heart, mind and soul that matters most? Image or Word? Both are worthy. Both are necessary. Neither should stand alone.
Valentine's Day... it's extremely cold this morning. Last night I received a bit of training from Kevin. He is concerned about morale in our department. There's nothing wrong with my morale lately. In fact, finally I feel some confidence in my work. Not that I'll never make a mistake again, it just feels good to be good at something. A little anger makes the night go so much faster... but apparently I am intimidating somebody. What a laugh. Women might not know how to take me, says Art. Like any woman cares enough to take me in any serious way....
So much for confidence... ah well, it had to end sometime. My mornings have been pleasantly ritualistic this past couple weeks. News is late coming if at all. Freedom reigns in the valley of the hardcore. But then comes the fall as it must. I am crushed but exploding outward. I roar with the pleasure of release. But this confidence remains. I don't care. Neither one thing nor another. Transcendent... the Union of duality. The One that is All. The Many in One. Teh... I misspell, ‘The,' and think, ‘Teh...ran.' Zina. Fury. Impenetrability. Love is a lie. I DON'T CARE.
Glen says I am looking to get hurt by trying to get closer to certain women at work. He is probably right. Maybe Lynn is right then... I am not ready for a relationship after all. Maybe I should just let my head sink to my chest and slump into despair again. Anger just drives people away. But was there ever anybody near? Again comes the anger. Women, can't you speak up? I am a blind man and you are so silent... You will never forgive me, this I accept. Please say the words. I worship the union of opposites.
I love the thrill of sneaking up on you... the edginess of it... the possibility that you may react badly... the possibility of a naughty reaction... But it is dangerous. It must not extend to strangers. And it must always remain playful. Then again... maybe you enjoy the idea. How can I know what is appropriate? You decide. I can only keep trying and failing until you stop me or help me or both. But I am afraid even to try. Fence-sitting, hair-splitting... maybe. Until you make some sign, I am powerless, willing, wishing to proceed, but clueless and shy.
There is little to remark, little to comment upon. I am spending most of my free time in altered states of consciousness. I hope someday for somebody to let me in on reality. Why am I so angry at women lately? Is it adultery that bothers me? Fornication? Dishonesty? Yes. Dishonesty. Lying is soul-destroying... to feel forced to lie is monstrous. You cannot allow another person to own you. The truth sets you free. Imprisoned by my own cowardice... no more. I am a monster. Just don't expect me to be cheery about it. Unless you are all monsters too....
What drivel. Have I nothing better to say than this? My rage is subsiding, at least... what was I angry about? Oh yes, infidelity. Thank God for infidelity or I might now be shackled to one monstrosity or another. No more sticking around hoping you'll come around. No more dying for you to give me the love I crave. No more giving away power by letting you know that I've fallen for you. Love is a cross to be borne... alone, in silence... until the flame is snuffed out at last by time and distance. Better emptiness than unrequited love.
I am bucking a trend, says Adrian. Good. Fuck trends. Barb was telling me about the high boots she used to wear... what a lovely thought. Sherry is wearing glasses which look very nice I must say. Gosh Cynthia is so nice. And Allison too! And Karen and this could turn into a 100 word thank you to the kind , patient, forgiving and generous people with whom I work... Yes, even you, Judas. I forgive all. In return I ask forgiveness by which we shall stand as equals always. The mountain becomes the valley, the earth the sky. Amen.
Two nights ago there was a girl on the bus who could, in a pinch, pass for Melanie. Last night there was a taller, short-haired duplicate of me. The face was dead on. Imagine confronting your double. Rather freakish occurrence, wouldn't it be? How are you feeling, ladies? Smoking my water pipe is a ritual of transformation utilizing all four elements. Awareness of every move, every action is the goal. Note the significance of each movement, its relationship to the whole. Slow it down. Observe. Think. Give thanks. It is holy. A life lived in awareness is poetry, worship, holiness.
Grace... when the rays of the sun fall directly to you. Last night was such an experience. Somehow I decided to try before work... and did. The bus ride was uneventful though the flower guy appeared. But then the sun... and my cup runneth over again. How do you do this? You draw me out... from above, even! Do you realize what this could mean? So I arrived at work coasting on a luminous cloud of suspended disbelief, possibility and perhaps an inkling of equanimity, finally. Pride? What strange reflection art thou. You honour me. Not my will but Thine.
One hundred earthly words today. Yesterday on the bus a short-haired Brooke Burke was chatting about studying classics at university. The date was 20/02/2002... and for the first time I went to work in a dream. I probably owe you both an apology. But some fool told me you were no longer a pair. Last night I dreamed deeper still. Unruliness was in the air... projectiles, jeers, wise remarks... but a sweet smile in a short black skirt, black hose and high black leather boots riveted my wandering attention. And was that a dominatrix walking down my street Thursday morning?
‘Hey Asshole, the next time you spew about your wonderful life and all the amazing people in it, chew on a dirty sock, ‘cause nobody wants to hear it!' ‘It doesn't matter how much you dress up a turd, it still came out of your ass.' I read these things and I don't feel like doing anything anymore. I have nothing to offer the world. And the doctor advises me to write only positive things. I could never find 100 positive words to say everyday. And why should I bother? It's dirt and blood you hunger for, is it not?
I am learning to love and to expect nothing in return. I want only your happiness, whatever that may mean. Sometimes this is difficult because I want so much to be close to you. But just knowing that you exist is comfort. Why, then, do I trespass? Why do I take liberties when another heart is at stake? How can I be so callous, having been so many times the victim of such insensitivity? It was completely spontaneous. For once, I acted without considering the consequences. I hope not to have offended him. I hope you will both forgive me.
Sexual harassment video tomorrow at work... timely, considering my propensity for stalking... maybe no restraining order will be necessary. I don't understand, really, I don't. Am I wrong to be interested in somebody with whom I work? Or is it generally acceptable except for people like me, for whom restraining orders are sought? Nobody likes rejection, but please don't be afraid to tell me you aren't interested. I'd be thankful to know for certain rather than waste my time. And I should take my own advice. To keep somebody dangling is just cruel. Still, some people just can't say no.
I am guilty of harassment, sexual and otherwise, many times over. How I manage to keep my job I'll never understand. Silence is the safest course. Tacit acceptance of unacceptable behaviour is weakness and is no longer acceptable. I am forced to take a stand. Or maybe I should just find a new job and they can cut one another to pieces in my absence. Cramps. I have two days to read this book from the doctor. Pressure. People, please stop giving me books! Frustration. Cheyenne's hair looks lovely straight. Now if only I could believe anybody was really themselves....
February ends with high winds, appropriate given my volatility this month. No more apologies. You are worth dying for. Spring approaches... rebirth is at hand. This whole harassment thing has become a tiresome joke. Irreverence for its own sake is one thing but everyone deserves a certain amount of respect and human dignity. Don't expect me to stomach everything you try to shove down my throat. I may stand up for myself once in a while, maybe when you least expect it. I want you to understand that though I normally take all your shit, I do have a threshold.
The Tip Jar