maybe what i want is to posess people. which you can't do under any rational circumstances.  some unrealistic assurance of loyalty and being present.  settling into each other's hollows and all that.  that familiar loneliness.  wanting people that i can't have.  not living up to expectations of myself.  not even worth the words to say it.  repeating and repeating the same old things.  maybe it's the month of february anyway.  i read last year's blog entries.  the same and the same again.  though...i feel like i would feel better had i been unaffected by the affected nice boy act.  fucker.  some angry sort of melancholy is eager to clutch my insides and twist them up at any opportunity for that sense of not living up. of being boring. of saying not quite the right thing.  so they twist.  i resist.  stewing.  familiar hopelessness.  repeat repeat. trying to redirect.  concentrate on  the concrete, the tasks to complete.  but on the over end of our little dinner shindig thing...the abiding sense of conversational failure...that idiotic fixation on the impossible boy...my mild tummy ache...i'm not feeling so hot so....a brief cliche of a blog entry. creep creep creep.

in other news: yesterday. for the first time in years.  i was able to touch my toes.  i was ecstatic.

look look experiencing life with a level head again i think.  mmm.  some tight little self-defeating knot of unhappy misapprehensions sterotypical western inside empty disconnect self hatred everyone false thing appeared (with real and pretend people and bodily inspirations).  accompanied by much bread cheese and sugar.  and general fatigue.  now.  well.  a more typical cynicism, mild resignation, repeating life patterns, gigglng absurdity, enjoying my little self maintenance tasks.  and little frills.  finding mysterious legume recipes in the ayurvedic cookbook.  starting another batch of kombucha.  the small challenge of trying to incorporate all produce into various lunch configurations before smelly disintegration.  small thrills at nearly finishing old tins of tea.  steaming vegetables.  cutting nails.  scraping the tongue.  brushing the skin.  soak soak soak.

feeling clean again.  released somehow.  and i'm not sure what to make of that tight tense knot, feeling glutted with awful thought and how awful thought feels somehow in my chest like chewed up bread in your mouth. or  like how a grilled cheese sandwich might sit aging a while in your tumbly.  all soft and stagnant.  imprecise.  residues.  filminess.  lack of clarity. you see. in my intestine.  and outside of me.  so. back to the vegetables anyways. like a good little girl. 

but taking pleasure in all these pretty sundries.  maybe just distractions from the stormy underneath?  shall i be a freudian? sublimate?  all that.  oh. great.

no point exactly.  but it is nice that the variously rankled or bright and shiny headspace is conveniently reflected in place and food and digestion.  things are perhaps operating in tandem.  my food preferences are producing funny literalized metaphors.  if not evidence of my little world righting itself, it is still pretty charming that mindplace can manage to place the story and the sense on the big ol mess.  yum.

well what a confused delusional i must've been.  or perhaps what  a mean ol fakester of a boy.  oh well anyway...it's always both, isn't it?  so after this last ditch email effort to say hello come play with a long list of excellent activity options, i resign myself to being ignored by the erstwhile object of affections.  i genuinely thought we had some fine oh fine times.  was excited for more.  the ignoring is perhaps the universe's funny idea of paying me back for my own evil ignoring phone calls after awfully boring uneventful hours fraught with superficial small talk spent with a thirty one year old feller or two over the past two years.   but c'mon post one hardly intimate date...i can rationalize ignoring.  though such logic leads me to believe i must have been a boring lady all around.  and him just hanging out with me in the hopes of a nice fuck.  how sad when i think of my stupidly telling my sister about being smitten in some email and her only reply (no charm, no questions, nothing) was to tell me that rob the idiot boyfriend says i better have sex with him soon if i don't want to mess it all up.  pisses me off to think he might have been right (though i stand by my bitchy reply advice to stupid rob, maybe he should get himself a job.  fucker).  likewise irritates me to think i was pretty ready to fuck that fucking boy.  i suppose i would feel more angry if i had fucked him, gotten more attached...and then he ignored me.  eh?  fuck. 

now i'm trying to read lady chatterly's lover...which is kind of boring.  not sure if i'll make it through.  never read any d h lawrence.  not sure what to expect.  maybe i'll switch to kundera. 

and ooh: mighty fine old time music lately.  the sf bluegrass festival.  i heard the foghorn stringband.  from portland. really nice old time string band music,  fast fast.  i even danced.  weird: i ran into this old guy i met at the airport while waiting for my plane to newark at the show.  last place i expected to run into anybody i knew.  and i suppose i ran into someone i didn't really know. so. hey. and i spent all afternoon at the atlas cafe listening to three bands.  yay i like it.  renewed resolve to go see more old time shows.  kinda maybe thought i might get up the nerve to go to the square dance shebang tonight.  but all these lone outings get to be a bit...well..lonesome feeling.  but what can i say?  when i give into the general roommate preference outing (no one ever wants to go to my choice events) as i did on friday night...man what shitty shitty music i heard.  kid 606 noise rock shit.  no perceptible talent.  no lyrics.  a microphone stuck into his screaming mouth while he pressed the delay button.  unnotable guitar and drum kit.  me drinking a lot of beer out of boredom and general irritability.  it seems there is always someone eager to expound upon their happy blossoming love life while i am trying to hide my hurt as i resign myself to my false ignoring unloved life.  ha. 

hooray, however, for time to be spent with fun oh fun attraction resistance friend tomorrow.  conversational pleasure plus crazy japanese chainsaw arm monsters and children with magic powers movie.  with all these fun activites and no one to come along...it is nice to get one pal in on it.  eh? 

rumble rumble.  unsteady head.

crumbly underneath curiosities of sleep:

hmm. i rarely remember my dreams.  but this week i seem to be on a memory roll.  certainly vague.  but kind of thrilling. though all rather anxious and odd.  and so transparently indicating various fears and irritations with self.  all in all, really not interesting to put in a place where any one but me would read.  but hey.  i'm nearly just the only one that reads.  almost. 

dream number one.  sitting down in a restaurant to eat with housemate b we end up at a table next to someone who looks like smartboy with some nice looking lady.  rather startled, i decide to avoid eye contact and not to initiate hello sayings so quickly that i am not even sure that it is him at all and b has never met him so wouldn't be the wiser.  but i am quickly noticed and and hello'ed sweetly, hugged, and coddled as though missed, he was so busy, oh blah blah blah.  i am quite taken aback since not only had i expected a little awkwardness, expecting girl to be some alternate alpha dater lady, but this guy doesn't quite look like him or sound like him, but speaks with his intonation and moves like so, and acts as though he is, introduces himself to my roommate and me to his dining friend.  it's as if one of those people that looks almost like an old pal from a block away (always ever happening to me in this too small city), but you don't want to stare, so you place attention somewhere else until perhaps ten feet apart, only to find some vague similarity in their coloring and body type and otherwise puzzlement at one's poor vision.  but that person who looks totally different turns out to be completely sure that he is so-and-so.  no doubt about it.  a disturbing literalization of the creepy crawlies of falsity, masks, pretend everything, else, this, and all that, as relates to all newcomers to or otherwise quick leavers from my little sphere.  certainly significant that this miss you excuses hug darling crap (which, embarrassingly, i want) comes from this hybrid stranger lookalike person.  a mixture of revulsion and joy.  maybe i felt that way anyway.  that feller still too much a stranger at this point anyway.  where _do_ people dredge up all this sudden affection for people thay hardly know? these sudden affections all full of ambiguity that nevertheless manage to lift me an inch of so off the ground, all groundlessly smitten you see.  but then again...i'm not even sure about knowing.  that feeling that you know someone.  comes and goes.  think about most people i haven't known for more than a year or two...and i start to imagine, for one reason or other, that we hardly "know" each other at all.  but what do i mean?  yikes.

dream number two.  a drawn out humdrum fear filled return home, lots of quiet contemplation and trying to hide emotions.  having found that for a reason i don't quite grasp, but somehow preventive and not quite logical, i have to have a second back surgery.  everything reminds me of the first go around.  but it's all made worse by a nagging uncertainty about whether all this is necessary.  and guilt.  no doubt.  a logically derived anxiety dream.  after all.  this fear of and about my little struggle with my body.  it's creeping pains.  strange cramps in the used to be numb part of my leg.  the occasional pick up of small statured boys which makes me nervous.  the less too infrequent once a week yoga practice.  it all affects how i sit, how i move, what i pay attention to, where i hold my tension.  but anyways, not so vivid a dream, but very much an edited version of last year's memory.  hmm. 

dream number three.  well.  i can't realyl remember it actually.  but housemate m was in it.  and something about fast growing leg hair.  something significant happened at some point.  i definitely woke up at three in the morning, freezing cold, half consciously climbing into my sleeping bag, with the brow furrowing sensation of having had a disturbing dream. 

quite odd to have these dreams that so easily mesh with reality.  mixes things up a bit. 

meanwhile.  loving this murakami book.  i haven't been so keen on present time authors these days.  what can i say.  but hardboiled wonderland and the end of the world is a damn fine novel.  though there are still enough pages left to change my mind.  rum tum tum.  but the business of making little self-enclosed worlds in a novel that mirror minds and people and reality, all decidedly bubble like impenetrable mysterious creative crazy places where dream and reality and in between get all mixed up, while maintaining this tone of mundane acceptance as things roll along just as they ought.  a subtle talent.  i support it.  nabokov and kafka did it quite well.  woop. 

anyways.  i meant to go to bed two hours ago.  dagnabbit.

prolonged growl.  alll weekend long.  restless and irritable.  bleh.  one of my greatest pastimes is cataloguing the factors involved in making me growl.  fatigue, energy gone to fighting off sickness (everyone's getting sick, i presume i'm on the verge of it, strep throat cough cough etc the works), ever the menstrual bitch.  but in such a crummy crumbly state, my head seems to fixate upon the possibility that i am being ignored by the smarty smitten for boy (unreturned missed call, unanswered text message).  which makes me sad and angry.  i ought to have never let the small thrill of any interest in me get blown out of proportion.  i ought to not want so much to be wanted.  and mister desire resistance has a girlfriend boy ought to not call me on the telephone so willing to come play with me.  silly ironies.  i should like to punch the collective ironies squarely in the face.  the usual lessons learned.  failure at emotional control ruins all.  attempts at emotional control increase emotion (like thought suppression thoery and the white bear).  sprinkle on hormonal fluctuations and immune system working full speed ahead.  little girl longing for connection too negative to spend time with people, cries by herself on saturday night, tucked in the corner with head under the bed.  big girl drinks some wine to calm down.  but what a strange high comes from fine times, feeling wanted, giggly fancy free...such superficial times spent ought not to make me so happy.  seeking a more even keel perhaps.  the ol meditation practice ought to come on back.  tut tut. 

how oh how many oughts.

the happy ending: best college sweet neat college pal calls me sunday morning with commiseration, tales, merriment.  oh the darling.  oh hello. 

anyways...i'm just fine. a-ok.  rat a tat. chemical chat. bye.