Monday, June 29, 2015

letters from lovejoy

(A poetry rub cafe on the planet Lovejoy, 2073. Amanda and wrob talk while receiving massages.)
WROB: I know, i know! Don't agonize, it was a million years ago.
AMANDA: (dialogue to be inserted)
WROB: Where is this coming from? Do you need penance, or absolution? If it's the latter, you know you've had that...always.
AMANDA: (dialogue to be inserted)
WROB: was dehumanizing. Have you ever had your humanity assaulted? Or negated? Well, of course, everyone has. But it was like this demon child was out there screaming "You're not a human being! You thought you were a human being, but you're NOT!! I rip the tongue out of your fucking head! You don't exist!!!" It was like you wanted me to do something stupid, so you could rationalize rejecting me. And when i didn't take the bait, you acted like a mudslinging politician and accused me of doing it anyway. It was a tough year. Eric erased me, shane did the same...which is the way everybody acted back in those days, so big deal. But it was such a mindfuck, because you kept dropping these horrible bombs. We'd meet accidentally for twenty-nine seconds, you would say something disconnected from reality...and even though i knew intellectually that you were making shit up because you felt you had to say something, there was a tiniest nugget of uncertainty over whether you might actually believe what you were saying. If that were so, then a simple, short talk at any point would have fixed everything. And maybe "fixing everything" meant you needing to end our friendship...which was fine, of course.
AMANDA: (dialogue to be inserted)
WROB: There's only one that sticks in my mind...when you told me you thought i'd had expectations. To spend fifteen years offering one message above all - "i have NO expectations". Everyone you'd ever known, every lover or friend or family member, had crapped their expectations onto you. But not me, i wasn't going to do that. Ever (except the ones you asked me to hold). I knew that if a hundred bloodhounds went back over every word i'd said, every deed i'd done, they would never find the tiniest whiff of expectation. So, yeah, boom - the most hurtful thing anyone had ever said to me. Ain't life funny.
AMANDA: (dialogue to be inserted)
WROB: Exactly. You were a surgeon. You were syd barrett. And you couldn't stand the thought that someone saw you. You needed that illusion of control you'd always so carefully maintained. But it's not like it was so bad that i lost perspective, or the ability to laugh. There were one or two hysterical moments. I laughed for an entire day once, when i listened to an alanis morrisette song and realized you had behaved exactly like the man she was trashing. I mean...that's funny.
AMANDA: (dialogue to be inserted)
WROB: No, dumbass, i don't remember the song.
AMANDA: (dialogue to be inserted)
WROB: I was always proud of my yearly ritual - once a year, on your birthday, i would climb in my biplane and skywrite over your house "IT'S NOT HOW WELL YOU LOVE OTHERS, BUT HOW WELL YOU LOVE YOURSELF".
AMANDA: You did no such fucking thing.
WROB: I didn't? Could've sworn i did...
AMANDA: You can't even remember when my birthday is, dipshit!
WROB: Not true. Starting the first year you ignored me on van's birthday, every year after, exactly nine months before your birthday, i fucked nine fertile women. Don quixote got nothin' on me...
AMANDA: You did that for me?
WROB: Damn straight.
THERAPIST: (to amanda) Would you like the happy ending?
WROB: Been wondering that since 1998...

Sunday, June 14, 2015

naked nurse 7


Dear naked nurse,
If i had a nickel for every time i scared a woman off by telling her i loved her the first time we had sex...i'd have some nickels! What's wrong with people?? Are we really that neurotic?
-lovelorn in little rock

Dear lovelorn,
If you're going to answer your own question, why am i even here?
Asking people to be relaxed and open and accepting (or giving or nurturing or agendaless) any time sex is involved, is like asking slugs to dance - even if they do their best, no one's likely to notice or care. But give us another century or two, and we'll get our caca conjoined.
Right now, there's just far too much at stake when sex is in play. Aside from money, nothing else defines our lives so thoroughly...and for most people, especially women, our sexual choices determine our financial well-being as well.
Nothing could be more natural than telling your lover you love them! It seems a no-brainer. But (again, especially for women), the sex game is all about long-term strategies, so a "premature i love you" throws us off. Ironically, it can sound...shallow. Insincere, instead of truthful and natural. Of course, part of the problem is hormones. Any time we're caught up in the swirls of falling in love, our brains are simply a perplexed passenger. Instead of sensibly kicking them to the curb and enjoying the ride, we try to CONTROL...ourselves, our partners, our precious self-images.
And to play devil's advocate for a moment, an "i love you" in the heat of hormonal passion, is arguably not as objectively truthful as it might feel. Is it truly the other person we love, or simply how we feel with them? To some extent, those realities overlap. Yet often as not, a brain awash in endorphins can wake up a year later and realize that their beloved annoys them no end. Never, ever, ever make life choices while in the first eighteen months of falling in love (of course, to the misery of all, this is precisely the time most of us DO make life choices).
Is there a more honest alternative to the "premature i love you"? How about "i love this". While that has the merit of likely being the most truthful option, it makes a far too shallow clang in our ears. Perhaps "i love us", then? It still has a high degree of honesty, while maintaining a semblance of healthy perspective.
I love us!
I promise, that's not just the hormones talking.
mirthful mountings,
the naked nurse

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Tuesday, June 9, 2015

naked nurse 6


Dear naked nurse,
How do fat-bottomed girls feel about the song "Fat-Bottomed Girls"?
-wondering in Westphalia

Dear wondering,
What, you can't just let them make the rocking world go round, and leave it at that? Sigh. Okay, this is the closest i'll probably ever come to dissembling, but...there are probably as many different answers to that question as there are fat-bottomed girls (er, women). Now, you got a smart-ass follow-up about babies and back?
rumpalicious reveries,
the naked nurse

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