that's kinda funny, 'cause I was gonna do this...
GanjaStack: twenty. psychology major. my weekend lover. real. lies to himself a lot. intuitive. native american (but not blackfoot). makes high-pitched noises when kissed. wears girls jeans. doesn't have a job. buys three-for-one cigarettes. smells like home.
(Or something like that.)
_________________________
Thursday, September 18, 2008
[enter GanjaStack]
_________________________
Friday, September 19, 2008
When someone likes you, they contact you.
This occured to me while walking to the store this afternoon.
Not that I didn't already know this, but I really realized it just today. "It hit you," they say.
"When we don't know the reasons why someone no longer loves us, we find them."
Along these lines, when you know someone doesn't care much, but don't want to believe it, we give them all sorts of excuses for why they didn't call or stop by. I know it looks like he doesn't like me, but if you think about it.... So today it truly struck me what honest bullshit that is. Why do we do this to ourselves? We psych ourselves out and most likely cause ourselves more trouble in the end by stringing out this wishful thinking.
If someone wants to talk to you and be around you, they will get in contact with you.
And if they don't?
They won't.
No "but"s. No situational circumstances. The end.
_________________________
Saturday, September 20, 2008
GanjaStack and I spend all day together. While I take a shower, he does my dishes and takes out my trash, unasked. We search Clifton on foot for his car. When we find it, we drive across the bridge into Kentucky, to his grandma's house (which he consistently spells G-R-A-M-M-A). While GanjaStack does chores outside, I learn about Howard Hughes in the bathroom, then lay on the couch and pretend I'm Mort Rainey from "Secret Window." He steals gas from his grandma's husband and we stop at three fast food stations before he decides what he wants to eat.
Back to his house, fill our veins with french-fry grease. "Sweeney Todd," Sailor Jerry's, a laughing pledge to marry in 50...40...no, 20 years, so we won't have to die alone.
It's 5AM, we can't stand it any longer...
_________________________
Sunday, September 21, 2008
[[We have fast sex. You moan frantically, come hard.]]
Sometimes you sound as though you're auditioning for the part of Adam Rose, and when you smile really big you look like Vatica Chris, both of which bother me, but for different reasons. In the car on the way to Mikey's, I ask if you know who the latter is, and am slightly relieved when you don't. Without asking, I know you know the former, because you've told me more than once that you hate him. (I wonder if I did not beat Adam to GanjaStack's ex-girlfriend, after all.) He telephoned me from Germany a few days later, and I asked him about you. As it turns out, he hasn't got a clue who you are, so you shouldn't waste much energy on hating him.
_________________________
Monday, September 22, 2008
We're tangled up in the pre-dawn dark, James snoring slightly next to us.
"Goodnight, GanjaStack," I whisper.
"'Night, sweetie," he says.
[[You say the words "happy" and "relief," then call me "sweetie" and kiss me goodnight.]]
_________________________
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
[exit GanjaStack]
_________________________
(OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!!
(Or something like that.)
_________________________
Thursday, September 18, 2008
[enter GanjaStack]
_________________________
Friday, September 19, 2008
When someone likes you, they contact you.
This occured to me while walking to the store this afternoon.
Not that I didn't already know this, but I really realized it just today. "It hit you," they say.
"When we don't know the reasons why someone no longer loves us, we find them."
Along these lines, when you know someone doesn't care much, but don't want to believe it, we give them all sorts of excuses for why they didn't call or stop by. I know it looks like he doesn't like me, but if you think about it.... So today it truly struck me what honest bullshit that is. Why do we do this to ourselves? We psych ourselves out and most likely cause ourselves more trouble in the end by stringing out this wishful thinking.
If someone wants to talk to you and be around you, they will get in contact with you.
And if they don't?
They won't.
No "but"s. No situational circumstances. The end.
_________________________
Saturday, September 20, 2008
GanjaStack and I spend all day together. While I take a shower, he does my dishes and takes out my trash, unasked. We search Clifton on foot for his car. When we find it, we drive across the bridge into Kentucky, to his grandma's house (which he consistently spells G-R-A-M-M-A). While GanjaStack does chores outside, I learn about Howard Hughes in the bathroom, then lay on the couch and pretend I'm Mort Rainey from "Secret Window." He steals gas from his grandma's husband and we stop at three fast food stations before he decides what he wants to eat.
Back to his house, fill our veins with french-fry grease. "Sweeney Todd," Sailor Jerry's, a laughing pledge to marry in 50...40...no, 20 years, so we won't have to die alone.
It's 5AM, we can't stand it any longer...
_________________________
Sunday, September 21, 2008
[[We have fast sex. You moan frantically, come hard.]]
Sometimes you sound as though you're auditioning for the part of Adam Rose, and when you smile really big you look like Vatica Chris, both of which bother me, but for different reasons. In the car on the way to Mikey's, I ask if you know who the latter is, and am slightly relieved when you don't. Without asking, I know you know the former, because you've told me more than once that you hate him. (I wonder if I did not beat Adam to GanjaStack's ex-girlfriend, after all.) He telephoned me from Germany a few days later, and I asked him about you. As it turns out, he hasn't got a clue who you are, so you shouldn't waste much energy on hating him.
_________________________
Monday, September 22, 2008
We're tangled up in the pre-dawn dark, James snoring slightly next to us.
"Goodnight, GanjaStack," I whisper.
"'Night, sweetie," he says.
[[You say the words "happy" and "relief," then call me "sweetie" and kiss me goodnight.]]
_________________________
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
[exit GanjaStack]
_________________________
(OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT!!!
posted by Angela at 7:04 PM
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