It Was My Fault
I should have written this immediately after the game on Wednesday but didn't because I had more important things going on at the time. But after thinking about it some more, I realized that the Spurs lost because of my actions.
You see, my hat came in the mail the other day and, well, I was wearing it during the game. I will not wear it tonight. I'm not that excited about watching the game tonight but I will. I will place myself strategically in front of the television, stomach tossing and turning, haven't eaten in two days, drinking beer, hoping for the best. Oh how I despise physiology and all of its mystery. It's been raining. I think I'm finally done with it.
If I ever say again that I could live in Seattle, slap me on both sides of the face. I wore shorts yesterday and thongs (for my feet!) and it was wonderful. I miss my legs. I suppose the cold has never stopped me before. I have a problem right now. I want to write but I'm not sure what to say. I'm sure I have a lot to say but I don't know how to sort it out. So, you, my victims, are having to excavate through the mess as I try to find my groove. There definitely is a groove. And when it hits, it is such a ride.The words come out like water from a faucet, representing the images that I see in my head, the thoughts I want to relay. My stomach is hurting right now and there's nothing TUMS can do about it. I went to Housing Works yesterday and read more Freud. Perversion, sadism, masochism. The usual run-of-the-mill stuff. Marcela joined me a little later, as did this guy who's pretty into her. Sucks he's married. Stephanie came, too. It was a party.
We walked to this vegetarian restaurant (the guy's a vegan) in the W. Village. It was a nice place. I got a "sir." Wouldn't be a complete day without one of those. So after this, we all went to Marcela's house. The guy, too. It's a small Manhattan apartment and I was feeling really anxious. So much so that I almost asked to check my e-mail. For some kind of connection outside of the space I felt trapped in. Little did I know it had nothing to do with their apartment.
I ended up taking a walk last night -- this morning, actually. It was about 12:30. And it was pouring. Thunder. Lighting. All that good stuff. I had the bright idea that I would just kind of walk along Prospect Park, but I just kept going and going. Prospect Park is really big. On a rainy night at 12:45...1:00...1:12...1:38.........2:45 over the sound of Beth Orton is probably not the time one wants to discover this. I only felt in danger once.
I was walking along Flatbush and spotted a guy walking toward me. There was a big rig parked on the street and we would have passed one another alongside the truck. Well, we didn't get a chance because he stepped off the sidewalk and went into the park through a broken part of the fence. Um. Ok. All I could think of was "CSI," "Law and Order," "X-Files." After realizing that I watch too much television, I stopped alongside the truck (it was dark; no one would have seen him jump out to attack me) and turned around. Then I crossed the street. Then I realized the other side wasn't much better.
Gender ambiguity is good for times precisely like these. So, after escaping death, I continued on my walk, wishing I had stayed with my original plan, which was to simply walk to the end of my street and sit on a bench. This was good exercise, though. Nothing like a little scare to get the heart rate up. Very dark. Very quiet. And I was alone in my head. I must apologize for the lack of excitement in this post.
Usually when I'm like this, I don't write. But whatever. I've got to write somewhere. I'm going to Manhattan today to meet this guy from Poland. He is a good friend of Elzbieta's and she told me about him months ago. She said I had to meet him because he's into identity. Aren't we all? So she called yesterday and he and I made plans for this afternoon. If we go to lunch, I hope he pays. I'm slowly getting more ideas for my thesis. I watched Hedwig again and would really like to do something with that. But a woman from Liberal Studies did it this year. So I don't know. Maybe Cabaret.
My mind is all over the place right now. As you can see, I'm incapable of forming coherent thoughts. But I'm going to click the "post" button anyway. That's all I can do.
