Pearl pointed out that I should document some of these. Note that they all involve boys doing me wrong.
Eugene era. Mandee to her intimate circle: Roommates Pearl, Maria, Bree; Couchdweller and somewhat unwilling constant confidante George. I send a text in frustration that a boy gave some lame excuse for not coming over for dinner.
Pearl: Sux 4 him. more pizza 4 us
George: Girl. Drop that zero and get yourself a hero.
(note that this is unlike anything that George would typically utter)
In response to a lament that a rocker boy had done me wrong:
Omar: Fuck him! Worst member of the band.
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Thoughts on the Arctic Blast:
This shit is weird. Surreal and beautiful. Dehabilitating and destructive. My mind is muddled partly because I can’t see the ground and also because I am constantly drinking. My friends and coworkers confirm this is true for them as well so I go forth in confidence and confusion.
I feel like the “arctic blast” is illuminating some of the general ways that we’ve come to operate around here. Most obvious is the fact that we strive for reasons to get out of things — anyway, every way to get “off the hook”. Sometimes just to know that we can, to have that leverage with which to feel in control of our own lives–or maybe even to feel fully OUT of control, beyond the realm of whoever it is that would say they call our shots. Not necessarily because we have something more worthwhile to do. To truly have control over our own lives (or something close to it) would involve a much more concentrated, deliberate way of going about things. As it is we are flailing around somewhat desperately, grasping onto whatever we can in any moment, pounding it into the ground. At least that’s what I do. And then I don’t have words to describe it. I try but realize how very trite and true I am. I get lost between my desire to feel the weightlessness of loss of control and my unrelenting urge to control and maniupulate every situation. I want to tell the inane stories of the moments I’m stranded and out of control, but I want to dictate my placement and effect as well. Somewhere between the effort and effortlessness I end up caught in the contradictions of my desires and end up very far from any of it.
