|THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016).|
“I have been making a great effort to make myself emotionally accessible to my friends,” he said. “I have no idea if that makes you uncomfortable.”
“I think chat is a horrible medium for communication,” he typed. “Yet, seemingly ubiquitous in my life.”
“You think it’s the worst?” came the reply.
“No,” he typed. “The worst is married couple sex. Unpaired with other forms of communication. The traveling salesman comes home from a month abroad. Hangs his fedora on the hook by the door. Lays his coat across the arm of the beaten couch. Eats his dinner in silence.
“And fucks his wife. Without a word. Before waking the next morning to find the road again.”
I don’t know, though. What do I know of married couple sex. Just fears and superstitions. I imagine the right one is out there for me. The one where married couple sex is like unmarried couple sex, only an order of magnitude better.
What? Do only computer science geeks talk about sex in orders of magnitude? I know what I was thinking whenever someone mentioned Big Oh notation. Big Oh? Are you fucking kidding me? LMLYP baby.
“You were right about it being too early to go to bed,” he said. “I need to drink more to be happy.” It isn’t really true, he thought. But it seems funny. Maybe because I drank more and am now happy. Wasn’t I happy before? On three hours sleep and ex-relational induced anxiety? Wasn’t that happy? Wasn’t it?
“All gods pointing to you sucking,” he said. “I tempt the fates. I balance my wine in the crook of the couch. Will it spill? Time will tell…”
“Ah, I pasted the text into a text editor,” came the reply. “You fuckknob.”
“Now you can see the color of my testicles.” he said.
Then, time passed
“But I do like to talk to her,” he said. “and She is rather bright. Challenging. And slightly scary.
“In that way that people tell you, ‘you should find a woman who scares you.’ not in that way that means you might ifnd her in a tub of her-own-blood-tea.”
“Why is she scary?” he adds. “It is partially inexplicable. Partially her personality.
“I fear histories, I’ve found.
“Her intelligence. You know me to be very modest about my intellect.
“She just seems very large to me. Like the They Might Be Giants song. Even before… She’s well read (unlike you.) (Or me.) She’s well traveled. Worldly. She’s full of experiences. It scares me in a pleasant way.”
Who am I talking about? Someone? Anyone? Jesus if I know anymore. I just copy the words from the unholy book of record. The concordance of all I’ve ever said or done or imagined or unimagined. I’ve sliced my face with the edge of a fingernail. I’ve drank two bottles of wine and will surely shit green tomorrow. Surely. When I wake in the morning my head will scream along with the children of the neighborhood. The rats in the kitchen will gnaw through the pasta boxes, eating the pasta and leaving the nuclear orange cheese powder.
I will rise and eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and mourn the lack of milk. I will take a shower and read my email and carefully craft an incomplete list of what is needed from the grocery. I will take a piss and take a shower and walk to the mechanic and bail out my truck and go to the Safeway and buy what I need minus those things I left off the list. I will flirt at the checkout and walk to my truck and take the long way home. Drive down 7th ave and past Twin Lakes beach and see the surf and the people on the sand in the sun loving life.
I will move the bowflex in various directions and feel stronger for it. I will play guitar and maybe make a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. I will walk on the beach and talk to the gulls and forever remember what was said.
What was said.
At some point, Nate, you must realize that you are who you are and that things flow into you and you need to let them flow. When people tell you to guard yourself think about what you are guarding yourself against. Love? Pain? Life is risk, and pain is transient and love is the ultimate goal. Isn’t it?
You so definitely want to be in love, Nate. So clearly. You want a wife and children and a house overlooking the sea. You want a family, don’t you Nate? And you want the time to raise your children right, with mind rich and emotional health and confidence. Confidence like you maybe glimpsed so long ago. It seems so long ago.
It’s bed time, Nate. Go to bed.
"We are our own failure, we our the cause of our own demise, and for that one glimmer of happiness we shall put ourselves through hell and back."
I'll read this again later when there isn't somebody else waiting for the computer.