Spiritual Bumper-cars

All the surfaces are reflective in this town. I can’t find the pores, the holes where smells and sounds are supposed to seep in, where humanity seeps out. It all hovers here, above the surface in fine, separate layers. Nothing commingles. Siloed and segregated I walk through busy, bustling streets surrounded by an invisible shield of my own scent, energy, thoughts. Here they play spiritual bumper-cars and no one ever wins. No one gets bumped, but we all define winning differently…

I have never experienced anomie the way I learned in sociology class. I could never internalize the feeling, understand what it meant to feel alone in a sea of life. I am starting to wrap my head around it now. I’m not there, but the prospect has become less hypothetical.

I teeter between anger and sadness, disbelief and frustration. How? And more importantly, why? Why live in a cocoon when you can be out in the world? Is it a protectionist instinct? Self-preservation? What about the green of my eyes makes you look away so quickly? What is it in the curve of my smile that has you turning away?

Sex Talk

Went to an open-forum style chat on sex tonight. I had high hopes that were all quickly dashed. Too bad because I think it could have been great. Like a drunken mistake though, all that happened was half-way through I was itching for an excuse to leave.

I consider myself fairly politically correct, excessively so if you ask my brother and a handful of others, but I just CAN NOT get on-board with A) validating every single thing, every single person says and B) being so careful not to offend that you end up saying nothing at all (and take a bloody long time doing it).

BDSM is rough. Bondage is not fluffy. Masochism is harsh. That’s why people who like it, like it. To deny this basic premise is to essentially deny those who take part in it any validation. By insisting that calling it harsh devalues or judges it negatively is to miss the point entirely and furthermore reinforces the notion that harsh = bad.

This was but one hyper-politically correct academic approach to a very visceral topic that made me crazy this evening. But I am too tired to write more. Sleep calls, perhaps more ranting tomorrow.

Seriously?

Remember how I said moving was fun? Hark back if you can (or scroll I suppose) to a post, not long ago where I mentioned that I liked moving, relished the chance for fresh starts and adventure, enjoyed the chance to take stock.

Lies.

Well no, not lies exactly but every silver lining has a cloud I suppose… Picture this:

Last night I crawl into bed -it was cool in the apartment as A) I am trying to use less energy and B) I’m broke. I curled into my its-winter-and-I’m cold-and-sleeping-alone fetal position and tried to generate some heat. I fell asleep soon after and did not wake up until 2.5 hours later when I was shivering so hard I yanked a very heavy and suprisingly pliant carpet off my floor and chucked it on top of myself. Giggling and warmer I went back to bed. This morning I awoke and, determined to enjoy my first morning in the new place stayed curled in bed while coming to the decision that I would make myself a cup of warm tea and come back to bed to read. Warm and fuzzy and still half asleep I plodded into my kitchen only to be met with a puddle of wet spreading ever closer to my feet. It was coming from the fridge. Well shit. I guess I’m buying that fridge I saw on Craig’s List… I opened the fridge and then the freezer. Wait. My ice is icey and the fridge is cold. Where is that water from then? I look up. Nope, no leaks. I decide to follow the trail of wet past the fridge and when my eyes land at the base of the water heater all visions of warm tea and literature vanished. Well fuck.

I’ll fast-track through the rest of my day. A day composed of waiting, waiting, working a bit from home, waiting and finally saying screw this and walking over to the cafe with my book. The landlord never came, never called and I have a bad feeling that I won’t have water, neither not nor cold until Tuesday. So I am now at my mum’s place so I can shower, brush teeth and have the sublime luxury of a flushing toilette.

Yay moving!

ARRGGG!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

I could scream. I am so thoroughly annoyed. I was supposed to be moving today, in fact I did move today; a car load of my stuff plus all the cleaning supplies I needed, all hauled out to the other end of town thanks to a friend who put today away to help me. Got there, hauled shit out of the car only to get into the apartment and see that the current tenant is STILL LIVING THERE!!!

Laptop on, dirty dished on counter, clothes everywhere, food in the fridge, hair in the sink LIVING THERE.

Back into the car go the boxes of my life, back go buckets of cleaning pastes & powders, back goes best friend in the whole wide world for not being pissed at me for wasting his day. And all of us back to the west-end where we proceed to lug all my stuff back up a flight of stairs.

Ugh.