Sorry. I've been writing a lot this week. It is because I have been awake a lot, with my mind going like a loosed freight train downhill. Notice that things only go out of control DOWNHILL. Because, I suppose, if you lost your brakes going uphill, you would then be going downhill. That is physics, people.
I miss people a lot this week. Yesterday I thought I was cracking up and then I talked to Little Brother. Somehow he makes everything okay. Then I was saved by music, music that helped me sleep. There is this glorious photo site that I like full of people who are also photographers, who have lived in places that I have lived, and take me back to places I want to go, and places I have never been. One of the guys posted an album he recorded recently, when he was going crazy and also saved by his brother. I downloaded the album and fell asleep listening to it, a glorious 3 pm cradle-me-to-sleep nap.
It is not really music I think I would normally like, but I feel like I sort of know these people, their stories, and one of them sang me to sleep. I suppose it is the way people feel about celebrities, when they follow their lives and loves and careers but don't actually know them. I never understood those people until now. And now I am someone I don't understand. Because I will probably put on that very album and (hopefully) fall asleep listening to it again. The post isn't properly linked for permanent ever-ness, but for the moment you can find it here. It is the album Basketball by Pat Parra as well as a free download from Baby Dino called All Our Friends Are Dead, also very beautiful.
I have been kind of hiding out this weekend. I am on the fence about my latest love affair, and we are going on a trip this week. It is probably the worst idea ever. I am such a moody bitch. I asked him to go with me on this big road trip but am now having second thoughts because he seems way too into me. I foresee nights of me rejecting him. That is not the way I want to spend my 30th birthday. We are going to go on a test-drive one-night trip on Tuesday, and then I will decide what to do about it. I don't like the idea of me driving around the desert on my own, but I like the idea even less of my driving around the desert with a guy who won't give up on trying to fuck me. I really hate that feeling. It makes my skin crawl.
My relationship with the entire male sex seems to be become increasingly polarized. The more I hate them, the more they want me. And the more I want them, the less I like myself. My friend told me recently that she is terrified of sex. It is a funny thing for two equally promiscuous women to bond over. But I've been thinking about it a lot. I kind of thought that having sex with as many people as possible would get rid of my fear of sex, or at least reduce my discomfort with it. But I've really only come to one conclusion with sex--once you have sex with someone, one of you expects it at any given moment. And for me, the fear involves being put in a situation where you have to reject people constantly. It is better to just reject someone the first night and never have to do it again, or to just fuck complete strangers you will never see again, hence never reject again. Of course, then you only have sex with strangers, which is never as good as long-termers. But with long-termers, you have to deal with rejection of sex every once in a while, which I think so few of us know how to deal with. Certainly not me. I really don't know what to do about this. Some sort of strategy-change is needed. It probably involves drinking less than I do now as well as, I don't know, thinking differently. You know, being a different person.
It seems only fitting that today I got my first-ever message from a woman on my dating site, and that I was like, "Hell, yes."
I miss you guys so much. I have so many questions and misunderstandings and you have so many answers. Or, at least, hugs.