Sunday, November 21, 2004

with links!

My bottom lip is really dry and has these three veritcal gashes that are reopened if I smile too much and my lips bleed and it kind of amuses me. As if I should not be smiling, that this is punishment, that I am Satan.

Yesterday, I bought a really rare book: William Sheldon's Atlas of Men. I want all of you to come over to my house, to play Scrabble, and to look at this book while I am taking my turn. There are about 1500 different men in it, a front, side, and rear view of each standing in this odd position to determine their somatype - basically relating one's posture and build to their personality. I am trying to figure out which one I am. Expect quotes from this book when I am not running to work. There is also a Varieties of Delinquent Youth by this crazy doctor, who used Ivy League students as his subjects. In the mid century, students at Harvard, Yale, etc. all had to pose nude for posture photographs as part of their orientation. This all amsues me to no end, but some of the observations Sheldon makes about male body types, as debunked as they may be, are really amazing observations about wimpiness, about different types of masculinity. And there is a book called Varieties of Delinquent Youth. It is non-fiction! How amazing!

I am listening to bad recordings of The Patriot Act this morning
[from the world of Friendster: "patriot act mp3s are up. go to username: americanrevolution password: 145145], thinking about Evan. I read "Love in the Night" by Fitzgerald this morning, and my god, Fitzgerald is such a good writer. He makes me long for love of any variety. So not Evan, any boy really. I am just listening to his voice on fuzzy tracks right now and so that's why it is thoughts of him, but really any one, any dick. I watched a Fitgerald adaption last night, The Last Time I Saw Paris, with a gorgeous Elizabeth Taylor and the sky is gray, you know this, and I don't know what it is that I want from this world, what it is that I desire, except some abstract thing like Love or Happiness and I look for it in human bodies. I want to unzip pants, mine, and lie in beds - but that doesn't do the trick, nothing seems to. The moments are rare, and somedays seemingly getting rarer. I am going to Virginia in what, three days, and I think that will be good, that that will provide some of these moments, not the hard dicks, but those feelings sought out with strangers' dicks, you know, good feelings

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