Fretting here in my studied gloom
Is jes another day spent in purple fumes
I got less time, with many to do
Yet I shag my hand, I'm cravin for you
But nothin ever happens
And I blunder
I'm ridin fine in your arms
I'm ridin you hard, I'm ridin you strong
And it disappears, the vision of you
So I shag my hand, I'm cravin for you
But nothin ever happens
And I blunder
I blunder how, I blunder why
The other day I rode this guy to heaven 'n' nigh
And all I saw was us speeding down the dee-en-dee
The leaves changed from green to brown
And I turn my finger, turn it up, in 'n' around
And all I saw was of us speeding down the dee-en-dee
Isolation is not good for me
Isolation - I don't wanna think of us on the dee-en-dee
I'm dancin' around, using every ploy
Baby anyhow I gotta do another guy
And though much will happen,
It'll be a blunder
"You hate men?! WHY?" This was not from any anonymous, but an acquaintance of a few shared night outs, amongst hordes of others. Another said on another conveyed chat, "Tell her to go back to the old Eve. She's gone mad."
Hmm. I don't hate men. I write about a particular kind of Men and they do exist. No matter how anyone, very moronically, will first read this blog and then thrash around on the floor in agony. Then while denying any "hatred" towards women, go on to wish me triple penetrations, rape, sodomy, gang-rape and fellatio. (Hain? Fellatio as a way of TIRING a woman? Excuse me. If the woman is angry and claims to have a temper like mine - verifiable by people - why would anyone ask for a blowjob? Or risk it?) Gangrapes, yes, are usually known to kill a woman than merely tire her. Wow. This anonymous person has strong anti-me feelings. And THEN the person claims to be a man AND wonders as to WHY I wrie nastily about men. Or, a particular kind of men.
Oh there are AMAZING men. I have met them too. They are the ones who are around when the nasty boys and the beastie boys have had their way. Most certainly, I have abetted in my own misery very willingly. Many so-called strong people who appear quite cant-ruffle-their-feathers and capable of looking after themselves, change when they (think they) fall in love. I think such people just like the idea of letting go of the control and either looking after someone else or being looked after and therefore lose control of their own vulnerability. They show their weak spots. They give (in). They get fucked-over. Ditto.
Is it strange, that even the AMAZING men who are there in my life have had some sort of Nasty Love Story? It involves the female version of the nasty-boys. At times I wonder, if the beasties hurt me and the good ones are around, WHY doesn't anything work out anywhere? Neither of us are interested. Many of my single, eligible friends have their own set of single, eligible friends and yet, no one dates anyone and everyone remains single and eligible. I suspect they fuck though.
When certain people ask "what's so special here?" (no, it doesn't 'bother' me, I like to be able to answer questions posed to me), I think of the Few Good Men. I think all people should think of them (haha, few good people, not necessary for men to think of men, heh) when questioned by nasties. Science says that for a man and woman to be friends, attraction is a must. Whether you choose to do something about it or not is another matter. I suspect that sometimes opposite-sex friendships are also based on pity, when one lets the other hang around becase (a) it doesn't make a difference to you (b) you like your ego pampered and (c) when you know the other is 'dependent' on you and therefore you apply (a) But the pity-friendships don't last, the stronger person usually pulls out on first signs of trouble. Anyway. I think of my good male-friends and the fact that they are bloody good human beings, intelligent men, funny men, capable men, men with spine AND they are my friends. There HAS to be something special about me to have them around. Likewise for all of us... even one good person in our lives negates any number of Nasties.
Erm. I have already declared that I am a pessimist-trying-to-control-it person. So the corresponding negative-thought to the positive-good-men-like-me-thought would be ---> What if these men have YOU around as a pity-friend, Eve*?`Considered that 'sweety'?" But then I am also a perfectionist and like to cover all loop-holes. Or perhaps I am being a typical woman, typically needing constant validation of affection? Hmm. Let's fucking be positive for this moment at least. That's the problem with losing trust you know, you fucking doubt everything. Even your own positive thoughts.
Blah. This post is supposed to be Positive, or was. Reclaiming positivity... Few Good Men (so far): He got me interested in new words, 'chutzpah' being the first he threw at me. He who offers a conversation and company when most needed and shows me brilliant films. He who spends an idle, ideal day that translates into evening and night and doesn't ask any questions when I shut-up for hours at an end. (also the reason why I should perhaps not go to anymore
parties, I go to sleep.) He who's offered me a roof time and again, without a single motive or me giving anything back, ever. Some strangers who have strangely shielded me from other strangers around when I'm trying to get a drink for myself over the bar... I'm short, I get crowded out. So these strangers would just sort of ward off others, buying me the time to get a drink, smile politely, let me pass. They never touch. It's SUCH a nice feeling.
And club bouncers! Ha, ha, there used to be one at Pluto's (now dead restobar that I frequented on Thursday nights way back in 2000-2003) me thinks, who could raise a brow. I never spoke to him, but when I'd get there and be dancing, he'd keep and eyebrow out for me and would arch it threateningly at any not-so-nice company around me. He was my personal Rock. Heh. Uff. I'm digressing into stories... Or he who calls randomly, messages randomly, checks on me and I always make a promise of calling back and follow through religiously by not doing so. And so on and so forth. Can't write anymore, somehow, these stories are more personal.
PS: Notes to self
Romantic: Men don't like you.
Cynic: Yes, I know. (scowl) Aren't you supposed to be dead?
Ghost Romantic: I'm haunting you. Besides, what are you going to do about men not liking you?Cynic: Nothing. Shrug.
GR: Writing 'shrug' is not cool, by the way.
GR: You are SUCH a teenager. What do you mean nothing?
Cynic: There are some things you can do nothing about...
GR: Stop being mysterious, doesn't suit you. You're very bad at it...
Cynic: Shrug. Like the sun rises from the east. You can do nothing even if your room is placed anti-Feng Shui directions.
GR: You're trying to be cool again.
Cynic: Yes. Shrug. At least I try. Somethings can be changed, somethings can't. Men don't like me. Period.
Cynic: Dy'er maker...
Cynic: Let's go sleep.