The Boy

For some strange reason or other, every time I hear his voice, my heart jumps. It doesn’t just skip a beat, it jumps, and I’m speechless for seconds. I keep wanting to ask him what he thought about when he thinks of me (aside from the blatantly obvious), but I keep digressing. Quite strangely, he told me without any prompts, that the reason for life was immediate gratification. And I mused that we had the same decadent ideal for life.

Then I asked him if he thought the word love sounded funny of his lips.

What is love anyway? At least the one we think we have. It’s really all in our imagination, isn’t it. We bother to try and make this work because we believe in it’s future, and its that future that inadvertently tells us that for it to be realized, we’ve got to convince ourselves we really care. And it’s also the past. I won’t deny that I had one of the most fantastic rides (no pun intended) of my life while he was around, it was a great deal of fun. An immense deal. But I’m sure when I remember it now, it’s doubly as colourful and fantastic and painted in fairy-dust.

He tells me that I shouldn’t even bother to define the word. Language wasn’t made to define any relationship, and that I was trying to justify what we’re trying to make work under the definition of love, which really cannot be defined.
It’s really only good for one thing, and that’s for saying. Or writing. Or painting. Besides, it made me happy to hear it, that’s why he says it as often as he thinks he needs to. How sweet.

I ask him how he thinks things will be when we see each other for the first time again come year end. But I digressed before he could answer.

***

I’d bought a new pair of running shoes by Nike. They apparently have a model that’s my namesake, and it’s a really comfortable pair. I can now kick ass at 7 klicks in 50 minutes. Couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Mr. Big’s really gotten under my skin, but not in a negative manner. People are strange things. You think you’re able to stay disconnected and objective, but before you know it, they start to become part of you and you realize that if they’d decide to cut off that connection, it’d be just like cutting off a part of your brain. And in a way, it literally is. Because the emotions that have started forming up in your head have to die now, since there’s no more use for them; and the only thing left to consider is how well you’ll bleed.

***
Mr. TV Man sent me a strange little text. Apparently he’s in London, at Piccadilly Circus in particular filming ‘skaters, punks, junkies and all sorts of weird raver-girls and even weirder people.’ Then he asked me what I was doing. Oh don’t mock me, please. I’m eating babies, of the chocolate sort of course, for tea. Not even half as interesting as what you’re doing, I suppose, but incredibly yummy. Yummier then the raver-girls. It is all incredibly strange. Sometimes I really wonder what he sees in me, and more importantly, wants from me. Once again, aside from the blatantly obvious.

***
I crave for kaya toast right now. It is National Day, and it’s one of our icon’s isn’t it. I think it’s better then anything Starbucks can serve up. And the black coffee, without the sugar and milk, is the best.

xoxox