Monday, May 01, 2006

I have no particular point in mind, but a few things I wish to type. So.

Casey's livejournal's second-most-recent post is this one line: "People my age: flakey, self-obsessed, given to group think." I've read it about six times and find myself wondering if he means all of them are all of that or all of them fit into one of those categories. Then I think about whether or not there was a reason for him to be thinking about me at that moment (because this is what I do, not because it is logical, not because I believe or want to believe that he was, simply because this is what I do.) And I pick my label from the three, wondering whether or not I fit the label "self-obsessed", wondering whether or not he believes I am self-obsessed (I know the answer, I am fairly sure, to the latter.)

Then it gets slightly more emotional than I want it to be, so I minimize the window and stare at the picture of myself that is my desktop.


At least I know that I am not only self-obsessed, I also tend to obsess about other people: him, at one point, and often when I am thinking about my life, and my potential, and all the things that could be happening as I mop the maroon-tiled floor of my own little McDonald's. Katie, a girl I met at the Outright prom, who danced with me in such a way that I wish my whole life could be more like it was in that moment: exhilirating, full of intrigue, sexy and carefree and fun..I suppose "carefree" doesn't belong there. As her hands slid up and down my torso, I wanted so badly just to feel it and nothing more, and yet all I could think of was how to play it cool once the song ended, and did she really want to dance with me, or was she going one round with everyone on the floor, and will she be disappointed when I turn around and sees my face (she was behind me), or has she seen me? And everything else.

Katie was confident. And with good reason. Katie was beautiful.

I am not confident, and I only feel beautiful from time to time, when I take a particularly good picture of myself. Which, Casey, happens to be why it's my desktop background.


Chad, I've obsessed over Chad quite a bit, too. Last night I spent about four hours online with him, engaged in what I believe could maybe be classified as flirtation, but you never know with a man like him (which is a large portion of the appeal.) About the fifth time I reassured him of his absolute sexual prowess (from what I remember), I was certain I was saying things that I shouldn't, things I wouldn't want Zack to read, things that I wasn't going to enjoy confessing to him later, but I knew I would.

I do not lie to Zack. I do not leave key things out.

I found a file on the computer indicating that three years ago, Zack threatened Casey online, pending the end of our complicated three-way relationship (act one.) I heard nothing about it from either of them, and I'm not sure casey ever actually got these messages.

This qualifies as a key thing that Zack has left out. So no matter what I say to Chad or anyone else, I always have that self-righteousness to fall back on.

Because that's what makes a marriage, really.

I wish I had started this with a specific point. Then I'd know when I was ready to stop. I don't think I am, yet.

Zack. Since the night, that one night, I've spent a lot of time obsessing about him. I think, perhaps, I am beginning to distract myself from that again. Scared, perhaps, of being dependent (and knowing how truly dependent I am.)

Zack bought a book called "The Nimrod Flipout" which is of short stories written by...some Jew, I think. Said he read a review in Time or Newsweek or something (what the hell is he doing reading Time or Newsweek?) and he's read a little of it so far, thinks it's pretty good. I thoght I might like to get hooked on another humorous short-story writer, so I've been picking through them while on the toilet. I don't like them much. I can't decide if I'm missing the point, or if this is just the writing the kind of writing that Casey and I discussed once as being "The kind of writing that a person of lesser intelligence would just assume was good."

I would like to know what Casey would think of "The Nimrod Flipout". I would like to read Casey's short stories, the ones he linked to on his livejournal on his third-latest post, and give him the feedback he's looking for (and exactly the feedback he's looking for, so he'd realize what he was missing. Because that, quite simply, is what I do.) But I can't, I won't, I won't let myself. Sometimes I think I will. The night Zack almost left me, I thought about how I planned to read them the next day. And I thought about Chad. And I would have thought about Katie, if I'd met her yet.

This post is anticlimatic. Like the stories in the book.

On with it.