Situational People

Most people really are very nice. I think only insecure people are horrid. And as I meet more and more people, I realize that people these days are mostly pleasant and rather decent. Maybe it’s because I grew up on the good old ‘wait till you grow up, then you’ll appreciate the life you have as a kid. Because the world is cruel, and the only people that’ll ever show you love is your family.’ Well, true, blood will always be thicker then water (and transient preferences), but that doesn’t mean they won’t be nice. I know people are selfish, and if it inconveniences them, sometimes they’d just rather not, even though it can make your life a lot easier, but honestly speaking, they’ve turned out to be a hell lot nicer then I thought they’d be.

So the world really isn’t cruel, and people do not necessarily get more cynical as they grow older. In fact, cynicism is a nature, not something you can acquire.

A number of things have happened. Rather inconsequential to the progress of time (actually everything is, time doesn’t give a flying fuck anyway) but nonetheless, they happened. I got met Dee at Jeff’s studio yesterday, and told them about Lady Deathshag. (I’ll draw a picture of her for you in the coming days) So my super hero character’s Lady Deathshag. She’s got this cool strap on with interchangeable dildos, and she’d fuck you in the ass if you tried anything nasty (because nothing is nastier then getting fucked in the ass in my opinion). For recreation, she helps out lonely teenage girls. No prizes for guessing what she does to them. Her lab’s the sex shop just a couple of blocks away from Jeff’s studio. He wasn’t kidding when he said we were going to try and pull the shoot off.

I also got really drunk at CU last night and possibly pissed a few people off. Dee got really sick because she didn’t drink in a long time and is quitting all her vices cold turkey (save kinky sex). Poor girl, I hope she gets better. I feel bad for making her drink.

Chris called me at 2 a.m. as I was stumbling through the 7-11 in search of some low-calorie comfort food. He seemed to find it rather amusing that I was drunk and having to shout to him over the phone in the convenience store while waving a banana around. I had to shout because the line was bad, and that usually triggers a fair amount of unnecessary gesticulation. Apparently he’s gotten window seats for the flights to and from SF (I was a little disappointed, because I prefer aisle seats for flights over 5 hours) but he really did think I’d like them and put in some extra effort to make sure I did get them I couldn’t bear to tell him otherwise.

And this morning, the fucking G-Spot called me! I’m still rather excited about it, I can’t believe he did, he’s so cool that way. I’d been thinking about him quite regularly recently, mostly because I’ve been wandering around town alone in the afternoon for the past couple of days, and usually when I did that while he was still around, I’d drop him a text asking if he’d like to meet for coffee or a late afternoon movie. He didn’t normally have the time, but still it was nice to have someone to call up when you felt like it. He had one of those cool super-flexi jobs that allowed him to go to work at about noon time and back home after lunch, a schedule that compliment my college schedule then. There was once he called me up at 7 a.m. just before I entered the school and asked me to make a detour and take the cab over to his place. I liked all of that. There was something about not having a schedule that I miss.

These days with Martine, it’s always on a weekday after a certain time… we nearly never do anything else like going to the movies or have lunch together because he’s so busy. And of course I love fucking him, but sometimes I can’t help but feel that’s all there is to our rendezvous. It’s pretty much the same with Dr. Seuss, although we do meet strictly for lunch and drink quite regularly, but then, there’s still and always a date. A plan. A schedule.

I do miss him, the (s)wanker *laughs*. He was cool. Completely laid back, chill out kinda guy. I am almost certain I remember him better then he really is, but that’s how memories of people we liked, overall, turn out at the end of the day. Even if we didn’t quite liked them much when they were around a bugging you, you think about them in a pleasant sort of way when you’re missing them, nonetheless. Memory is a strange thing indeed.

I was writing an email today, and I mentioned that people in my life weren’t really people, they were situations. For example, Chris is my highly paid escorting job, Martine is my illicit affair, Ethan is the oatmeal and cream, comfort boyfriend. Of course I cannot imagine doing the same things with someone else, just because I’m satisfied with the way things are, and these people seem to be very well suited for their roles in my life. Yes they are people to me, but somehow when I think about how I could have other people fill in the same roles as well, then I realize that the situations they create are of more importance to my life in the long run as experiences. Will these people drop out of my life at some point in time? I used to think they all would, eventually. But considering how Ethan and I have known each other for about 2 years now, and seeing as how people like the G-Spot can be miles away and still trying to contact me every once in awhile (he did try, but my phone was out of order while I was traveling through Cambodia). Maybe they don’t. One day I’ll know the answer, but that’s a long way from now.

But back to memory. And the thing I realized (with pertinence to my character and the way I process my recollections of relationships with people) is that they become more of a person when I remember them, then a situation. Sure, the circumstances under which we conducted our affair could have been highly inappropriate and therefore very exciting, but all that’s done and over; what’s left is the character of the person. What happens is that I stop thinking about how exciting the state of our lives were when we conducted our friendship, but rather why we did it, or why he did it. And what he liked about it, and about me. When I talk about past loves, I don’t talk about what we did, I talk about how these people were and are.

You can think about it and tell me if it’s true, but I think it is. I’ve spent the last half an hour thinking about it and imagining how I would remember all the people that seem to matter to me now.

I really miss the G-Spot because he made my life feel normal without being boring. I mean, he’s possibly the only guy that I ever shared a bed with without fucking (allright, there was Élan’s best friend, but that was only because he was a very good boy). I enjoyed watching DVDs with him in bed and he was the only person ever to have read me a poem, personally. It was about trees I think, nothing too sappy.

Anyway, I finished a painting. It’s 26 in” by 30 in”, Gouache on Canvas. If you want to buy it you can, because I’ve decided that my portfolio has got to start funding itself. It’s starting at $200, and email me only if you’re really certain you want it. It’s called Entering Wonderland and I like red cars.