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2001-11-24 / 1:29 p.m. ~This is Tedious and Boring~ Too much sleep, too many dreams, crazy dreams, none I can remember now, and what's the point if I can't even remember them now? Did I really stay in bed because Gladys was sleeping under the covers with me? Why couldn't I get up when I first awoke? Damn. I'm starting to get really mad at myself, and that's never good. I'm just so tired of having these mini-vacations, these four and five days off in a row things and not doing shit! Sure, I got the dishes done, but what about the dusting? What about vacuuming? What about laundry, and how does one person generate so much dirty laundry? I'm having a "conversation" with Nelson, on ICQ, as I write this. He had sex with a co-worker, apparently at work, I'm not sure, and for the first time he wants to tell me all about it. I basically don't want to know, but I'm playing along, pretending to be a friend. Is this where I shall list all the things I'm not doing? I really wanted to get out to see another movie yesterday, but I also wanted to do some more cleaning, and then there are my "Guiding Light"s on tape, of which I watched one, and all the Entertainment Weeklys in which I am behind, so I need to read, but that's so passive, so sedentary, and I need to go buy groceries, especially now that I can use my kitchen to cook, I have lots of counter space and a relatively cleared sink. Sigh...... But last night all I wanted to do was watch TV, just flip channels, and there are so many channels. There was an "Iron Chef" marathon on Food Network, and I watched "Disclosure" on one of the HBOs, and wow, is that movie dated, already! And then "Girl On the Bridge", with Vanessa Paradis (and the whole time I watched I thought, hey, isn't she the one who had Johnny Depp's baby????) and Daniel Auteuil. Incredible scene of knife throwing as substitute for sexual intercourse. Or maybe foreplay. I am not sure. Funny because night before I watched most of "The Pillow Book" on one of the movie channels, and in it writing is the erotic stimulus, writing on the body. It's about a woman who wants to be a writer, but she writes on bodies, and she seeks the perfect man, with skin that makes a good "paper", on which she can write, and who will write on her, in turn, and be her lover. Hmmmm.... She finds Ewan MacGregor, and yes, just as we read when the movie came out, he is indeed nude, a lot, like the audience gets very intimate with Ewan's penis. It's ample, a fine looking penis, and it's in so many shots. After a while it's hardly interesting any longer. And of course we don't see it erect, no, that would constitute porn, right? Not to me, but it would be nice.....they're so different when they're erect, penises. So, there are these long scenes with him writing on her, or her writing on him, and it's very erotic, I think. I love the feeling of being written on, in fact, it's similar to being tattooed. This is why a lot of people get tattooed....it feels good. Maybe it's the pain releasing the endorphins and it's the endorphins that feel good, but I loved getting tattooed. Anyway, so it's writing on bodies one night, having knives thrown at one's self another night. And it's all erotic. But "The Pillow Book" was stylistically way overdone. Too busy. An image in a rectangle at the bottom of the screen, the remainder taken up by words floating in the air, then the words float over the image, the film itself, the actors, and there's narration, then subtitles, then they speak in English, then Chinese, then Japanese, and I don't know anymore. It was overdone, reminded me of "Prospero's Books", which I reduced to directorial masturbation, and it left me angry when I exited the theatre..... Another sigh..... Well, Nelson is gone. He went on and on about sex with this woman, how he isn't into her mentally, so it was kind of hard, but the sex was good enough to have a go at it for 4 rounds. Nice. And I should care, why? So, he asks me how I'm doing sexually, as in, Hey, are you getting any? And I say, you know, I did all that, I had the anonymous sex, the "zipless fuck", I had the one-night stands, the sex with strangers, the sex with not so strangers, I got started early, and I'm pretty much through with all that. My eggs are old and dried up, I doubt I'll be procreating, I won't be mating, this is it. I don't want to share my body with anyone anyway. I accept it, but I know most men wouldn't, unless I doctored it a good bit. Shaved the legs, the pubic region, the armpits, tweezed the facial hair here and there, put on a little makeup, did something with my hair....no, no man would take me as I am, unless in a very dark place, and then, like the last one, in the morning he would leave and I would never hear from him again. I don't need that. Sometimes I think I want a "relationship", but then I see fictionalized relationships, or just watch the news, and I am reminded of all the bullshit, all the fighting, the compromising, the constant adjustments which must be made, and I am so glad to be alone. Or I think I want a "family", one of my own, I want kids, I want a partner, but my standards are so high, and I won't settle, and the perfect, or semi-perfect man does not even exist, and if he did, what would I have to do to accomodate him? No, forget it. This is it. Blech! I'm depressing myself. I think I really didn't enjoy my little ICQ conversation with Nelson just now. And he always calls me by my screen name, never my real name. He said he thought of me the other day, and I asked what did he think, and he said, oh, you know, bad things. So, I'm a voice on the phone, one who wants to suck on him until he comes in my mouth, but I'm not a person, and he is just a kid, 27 is way too young. No, I'm no longer interested. It's still a day, it's just about 3:00, I intend to leave here, and when I return and see how horrible I think this place looks I'll hate myself again. But how can I stay when I need to go? Conundrums. Cost of the War in Iraq
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