Tuesday, February 14, 2006

The day came, Valentine's, and in eleven minutes, by the time I finish writing this, it will have left. It is a non-holiday for me. It always has been. I have never once had a Valentine, and so I don't even have any sentimental attachments to the day. My mom, a few days ago, asked me if I was doing anything for Valentine's. My mom has never once asked me a question regarding my love life. Maybe once in early high school, she may have asked if one of my best friends (always girls) was my girlfriend. And so I was surprised by her question, since it was so out of habit, but maybe being remarried has made her more at ease, more happy. I answered the question like I would have had any of my friends asked me it, with a violent "NO!!!!! DEAR GOD NO!!!!," and I worry that she may have thought I was trying to close off the topic of my (lack of) love life, that I just didn't want to talk with her about it, but there's nothing to tell. I never think about it, or not that often, and so talking about it, asking me questions about it always seems to me a way of telling me that this is something I should think about, that these are goals I should strive for, and I don't think they are, and so say NO perhaps too loudly to my mom. Yesterday, Ethan asked me when was the last time I slept with anyone that wasn't for money. I quickly said the answer, Halloween, and embarrassed, focused on my rack of letters - we were playing Scrabble - and didn't say anything else about it. The question flustered me because I had been asked the same question a couple days beforehand by another friend, and didn't like thinking of the amount of time between October and now, and what that meant, or what that was percieved by others to mean. It is so much easier for me to lie in bed and read books and occasionally write here or write a story elsewhere than to think about boys, because whenever I do lately, I start to get depressed about many things, and so I look at words elsewhere, books, subtitles of Fellini movies, Scrabble boards. I even read the bottles of shampoo that line our tub whenever I am taking a poop. Always distracting myself with this stuff, words.

No one's lips touched my own today. Two people's hands did touch my genitals, though. This day and the hype around it affect everyone a little, despite what they may claim, it makes everyone long for something. Some thing or other. And I heard from three clients today that I haven't seen in a while, people in search of the other. One, the regular, I went and saw this afternoon, pissed down his throat and got a blowjob from him. Then, later, this evening, I went to see this guy I saw once a year ago, who had posted an ad saying he wanted a nude housecleaner back then. I was surprised to hear from him again, and went and cleaned his apartment naked while he sat on his couch and watched bad television.

After leaving his house, I went down into the train station at Union Square and I felt like I was in a combat zone. The first sighting of the enemy made me squirm, a couple making out, the girl, roses in hand. It was just so public and so typical, that they would make out on this day and she would have flowers. So cliche, playing these roles. I rolled my eyes and scurried past them, only to be encountered by nothing but scattered couples on the train platform. Everywhere you looked. So many girls with flowers, so many couples arm in arm, so many hugging. The singles were few and out of place looking, like we shouldn't even have been out in public on this day.

I came home, watched an episode of Seinfeld and ate a yummy bowl of salad. I am going to soon lie in bed and read the new issue of Vanity Fair I yanked from the lobby of the housecleaning guy's building, and I am not going to feel lonely, because whenever I am with people, even friends, I itch for them to leave, or for the moment I can, and can be alone, in bed, reading.


I have seen some excellent things on my television lately and I don't have the energy to talk much about them, so I will just list them, noting that they are amazing, and that the tv show, Pete and Pete is so incredibly good and hits me hard with nostalgia. This tv show I will probably talk about later because the music, the clothes, and the mood all remind me so much of my early teen years and this show has been pretty much all I have been thinking about the past two days.

The Adventures of Pete and Pete, Season 2
North by Northwest - Alfred Hitchcock
La Strada - Federico Fellini

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