Rendezvous
24 August 06 : 05.13 AM
Tonight reminds me of late nights, 4am, sticky with perspiration and smudged eyeliner. And bad gastrics. R&B music throbbing in my ear, then coming home to PJ Harvey and Radiohead and nigritude and quietude. It always felt almost surreal.
I was feeling ultra shitty the entire day (I usually wouldn't use the word 'ultra' but in times like this, it felt very, very necessary).
Airell sent me this message,
"I've got soul but I'm not a soldier. I've got soul but I'm not a soldier."
I'M DYING.
I was trying to study but the piano beckons and so does the refrigerator and the computer and this and that and everything. I can't spend the night with my books, not this night because it's too exquisite. I have to be out at the porch counting stars or listening out for garden faeries (I think their music will sound like that of Siouxie & the Banshees'), not trying to understand price elasticity concepts.
(I'm thinking of these random things, mind-debris. So no paragraph here is intentionally linked in any way to another.)
I was ill two weeks ago, a fever and a needle at the doctor's to help it subside. I was given a choice, strong pills or an injection and I chose the latter. I used to be afraid of needles, but after last year's, the one that made me unconscious, I think I'm over the fright. It's just metal under the skin.
Wei Er's trying to get me to meet this guy. A friend of his. It was so weird because two nights ago, Jus called me and said someone wanted his friend to meet me. Then I found out that the someone was Wei Er, and I was so amused at the coincidence, I told Danii about it, who realized that he actually knew Jus' friend. Fucking Friendster moment, I can't get over it.
Jermaine called, and we talked about Sern and that entry where he ended with the word Ouch, among other things.
My skin's too sensitive for Danii's goatee. It might mean something.
I was looking through old stuff in my folders on the comp. Then I find a notepad document titled "Letter to Elise". But it was really just a letter from b. to Insert Name Here. For some reason, I don't recall reading this at all, but I have it saved. He wrote,
" ... Sometimes, you would fill the romantic role but often times the lines escaped you.
You will always trawl the flotsam, trying to retrieve your prefab heart while others shred themselves into ribbons over you. "
Something made me cry about half an hour ago. Shhh.
I thought about the ex today. I found his pictures (the ones I've zipped up in a folder in some folder's folder's folder) and felt embarrassed so I closed the browser. I tried to recall at which point of our relationship did quirky become outlandish, sweet become cloying, concern become oppression, making love become fucking... because there must have been a freezing point, an exact moment I can return to, and figure out how it could have happened the way it did. But I can't put a date, a time, an incident to that. I don't even know when we completely ended things, because we were having sex even after we made it clear that we've broken up, so I still believed he loved me, that things were not over. It was only after I got over him, that I realized, it was all feral-fucking-pleasure, not love-soul-emotional-connection bullshit. I was dense that way.
I don't want to get emotionally attached to anyone. I don't I don't I don't. I can't.
I just want to go dancing.