dating a stripper gets harder the more you give a damn. and given enough time you do tend to give a damn.
"it’s probably for the best” said the thief to the kleptomaniac. I never could get our roles straight.
READ MORE
I keep in the pockets of my brain the names and faces of the people that have shaped me. The girls that wounded me, loved me, broke me and made me. I have note after note stuffed into the corners of me filled with their inner thoughts, the secrets, the truths revealed in moments of intimacy.
I keep them, these dreams, hopes, desires, fears. I look at them sometimes and feel the palpable cruelness of irony. These girls, with their frailties and broken parts who dashed in and out of my life but left so many snapshoted pieces of themselves with me.
Today they live in different cities of the world. They love there and laugh there and share their newest secrets with different men, every one of them feeling like the spanish conquistador glimpsing the new world for the first time.
They discover the way her body quivers when she comes, that odd syncopated laughter, that quiet desire to be completely dominated, the fears born from the marks of her childhood.
and yet,
and yet i once knew them too. I once felt the discovery of them.
In the most naive corners of my heart i still surprises me not to know them today after having known them so...intimately.
tonight i almost called her (an ex, the ex, my ex?)
out of impulse, because she wrote that she was catching an early morning flight,
and she'd never expect a phone call from me.
because she wrote "call me an keep me awake" and she'd never expect a phone call from me
she'd be right too.
tonight i almost called because somewhere she wrote "if you don't have my number it must be for a reason huh?"
does it count if for some reason despite not having thought about her 9 digits in about a year, i discovered that even though i deleted it from my mental phone book there was a copy of it stored in my inner sim card, that was readily accessible as soon as the thought "do i remember her number number" crossed my mind
yes, yes i do in fact. I tried the numbers out on my cell phone, the quick gliding from number to number. oddly familiar,
but tonight i ALMOST called,
tonight i almost called for the same reason some people get shitty tattoos whilst drunk: impetuousness in the early morning hours
i'm not sure what i would have said beyond some trite version of bon voyage, it was mainly about knowing i could catch someone off guard, but then what if that caught me off guard...
it's a funny old business isn't it?
every hour she's there. intoning in her very particular tone the hour and minutes.
she's there when i need her, at the flick of a button she annotates my day with the time.
she's there and every hour i think i'm falling more in love with her soft familiar voice.
if only she'd grace me with more than just the time.
if only she'd tell me of her hours spent doing french things in her french voice.
if i could only smell her soft hazel nut hair as she looked at the morning sun and said il est matenain sept heur sept minute....
I have a second milder obssession/habit:
I have always been keenly aware of anniversaries, the passage of time is something i have a deep fascination with, our/my perception of it. I notice anniversaries for all sorts of things, beyond the obvious "relationships" anniversaries. Yearly anniversaries are mainly my focus. It's been a year since i moved from new york, a year since i was last in L.A.
Acknowledging this passage of time serves to remind me of how i've changed and how that lines up with what i might have expected from the time that past. I recently turned 27 and spend a good deal of thought meditating on what this past year was for me and how that differed from what i thought might transpire.
all of this serves as a somewhat long winded intro to acknowledging that it has in fact been 6 yrs since 9-11. I was in new york city on that date in 2001. I was not near enough to ground zero to see any of the truly horrific first hand suffering that occured but i will never forget the palpable sense of loss and sorrow that filled the air that day. In the days that followed there was also a beautiful sense of commonality that bonded the citizens of new york together. There was a sense of kinship that made everyone seem accessible. I look back on those days and weeks that followed with a mixture of both awe and incredulity. In the same breath that new yorkers where helping each other the united states government was concocting the seeds for manipulating the attack to their political advantage. It breaks my heart to see how the American public has been manipulated, it breaks my heart to know that instead of growing stronger and closer in tragedy the country has had a wedge of divisiveness driven into it, it breaks my heart because at the end of the day i'm not american, but i grew up in the country, i lived, loved, and lost in new york city,
many of my closest friends live in the U.S and it's with a great sense of impotence that i watched as the political events of the country unfolded. I hope that somewhere, someone, a new yorker perhaps? remembers what it felt like to feel brotherhood with a total stranger on the streets of manhattan in the weeks after September 11th 2001.
i collect email address.
as in, i seem to have an disproportionate amount of email addresses registered.
mostly it happens because i think of some cool name for some as yet not functioning, recently conceived of company that will do no end of cool things and i then rush to gmail and see if someone else has thought of _____@gmail.com usually no one has and i chalk one more email address to my list.
at present count i have:
12 email addresses of which i regularly use 4.
There's some odd, collectors bug in me that keeps wanting to come up with new and interesting email accounts.
Some technopunk, pattern recognition, wanna be hacker vibe in me that enjoys the process of signing up for a new gmail account, 7 of the 12 emails are gmail.
Somewhere in the is the idea of emails as identity, It becomes part of our personal calling card, email me @...
They are like trying out differet characters or personas,
Someone who still holds onto johnsmith0934@hotmail.com seems to me lacking in cleverness or cool.
I have a mental catalog of criteria by which i immediately judge someones email address.
people who have email address composed of their first and last name rock, i wish luis.sosa@gmail.com was available, it is not.
in second place are emails that are clever without being stupid.
people that use L33T in their email address feel cool. such as p4ola@_____.com
or h4ck@____.com
in third place are people with some variation of first name and initial,
lsosa@____.com etc,
in last place are people who still use the email address they came up with when they were 15
butterly69 or sexychica18,
anything that sounds like it could be a handle for a webcam porn service basically.
so there it is, in odd minutia filled detail.
one of my odd habits.