It's 4:30 in the morning and I've just hung up with Narc for the fifth time in the past hour. Why do I keep picking up the phone? Because I'm a fucking moron. He called me on my land-line about an hour ago, still relatively coherent. Said he was at a bar by himself, and that he knows it sounds stupid but that he "can't stop thinking about me." I was half asleep and groggy and told him I thought he was pissed off at me. He said "No! I want to fuck your brains out! Get down here..." I had to refuse (for obvious reasons, the least of which is that I have to be up in a few hours to teach). He apologized for calling so late and told me to "go back to sleep and have a good class." Before hanging up, he told me that he loves me. (Huh??? What the fuck?)
Anyway, twenty minutes later or so, he called my cell phone and said "Hey! Thought I might catch you out tonight. Where are you?" That pretty much gave away his extreme level of intoxication. I explained to him again that I was home in bed asleep. He asked if he could catch a cab and come up to see me. I refused and he hung up.
He called back again in another 10 minutes, even less coherent. He told me something about how he was sick of the fact that I am "sticking my dick in his mouth." I asked him what he meant by that and he refused to explain, incredulous that I didn't understand to begin with. Then he continued with a lot more begging for me to come down there. He's not a stupid boy. He's learned a few tricks and even promised me brunch tomorrow. That might have been enticing at one pathetic point, but by now it's far too little too late. It makes me ill how he's clumsily adopted "brunch" as a carrot stick to draw me in. I explained again that I had to teach and he told me to "call in sick." I told him that I couldn't because I have a professional responsibility. He said that I shouldn't be teaching anyway because I'm an "unfit teacher." That kind of upset me. I told him that he has "no fucking clue what he's talking about" and we should hang up because he was too drunk.
He didn't like that fact that I called him drunk. He kept exclaiming, "No! You're drunk and I'm sober! You're the one who's drunk. I'm not drunk." I told him that I had stayed in tonight and gone to bed early and he refused to believe me. This whole thing is a little too sick for me. He needs me to be the one who's fucked up (which I often am) because he can't handle the fact that he's just as messed up as I am. I mean, it's Sunday night for God's sake...
He called me back again twice more. The first time he said "Hey, just returning your call!" I told him I didn't call him, but he insisted I did. "What are you, crazy?" I asked him. He wasn't too happy with that. Again, he wants me to be the crazy one. I sent him a text to "stop calling me." I hope he gets it in the morning and feels really stupid and can't be angry for my drunken calls to him on Saturday night.
In the next call he told me he wants to take the day off tomorrow to spend with me and he wants to wake up with me--in fact he has to wake up with me. I had a lot of difficulty explaining to him that even if he takes the day off, I don't have the day off. He kept getting upset and saying "shit" and then called me a bitch. I told him not to talk to me like that and he kind of backed down. I know he would be really embarassed if, when sober, he could hear the things he was saying. I have to wonder what kind of an awful drunk I make. But seriously, he lives in his own little world. It amazes me how little perspective he has on what the rest of my life is like.
I don't know why I keep picking up the phone. There's a strange familiarity for me, dealing with drunk people. There's something about it that's comforting. Theres' something about it that I like, even in the hostility. I know that B has a lot of discomfort dealing with people when they're drunk (especially me). Hammer has told me the same. For me, though, it awakens something. I like that I got to be patient with him and good. Tomorrow he'll have to feel grateful that I was kind, if he even remembers. He'll have to be even more grateful when I'm forgiving, which I can't avoid being. I don't know...maybe that makes me crazy.
Ughh... Just now, as I am writing he called me yet again. (And again!) I told him that I can't have this conversation again. The one thing that is really frustrating about drunks is their vicious level of repetition. How many times can he say "I want to fuck you tonight"? How many times can I explain that it's not going to happen?
In our last conversation (one minute ago), he called to tell me that he's dancing around his house right now to a lame British pop band. (I wanted to crack up when I heard that one!) When I told him to stop calling and that I'm not coming, he said that he's hanging up on me because "I don't have that." I asked him what "that" is. After talking in circles and with a lot of difficulty, he managed to explain that I "don't have what he wants right now." "So you're hanging up on me because I won't come down there and please you this second?" I asked. "It's not about that," he said. "You know what it's about. You know what we're about. You know where I'm at." (Um... I hate to tell you Narc, I have no fucking clue...) Then he said something like "Push!" or "Whoosh!" and hung up. This night is getting a surreal. Is this what 5:00 a.m. sobriety is like? I need to go get back in a bed for another hour or two.
Okay it's 5:06. I'm refusing to answer the phone again. I'm going to try to catch a few more winks. At least tomorrow I only have to teach for an hour and a half. My Narcissist is such a handful. Such a fucking handful. Why can't I resist self-centered, demanding, witholding boys? Can anybody tell me that? Why???
Monday, January 31, 2005
Sunday, January 30, 2005
By the way...
A friend of mine complained about the fact that I haven't "coded" people's names. (Except, of course, for my own!) So I think I'll start doing everyone the courtesy of coming up with nicknames for all of you... For friends with frequent mention, feel free to pick your own...
Self-Renunciation
Not to harp on the whole Narc situation even more, but I think it's finally over between us. But first, let me back-track a bit...
Friday's teaching marathon left me completely wiped. Never again will I attempt such a feat on only three hours of sleep! I came home and napped for a while, remaining in a state of utter fatigue. Not wanting to face my feelings or stay in for the night, I limpidly attempted to get into the "friday night" spirit by showering and reapplying my makeup. Around 11:00 I was about to head out to Cheers when B called and asked if he could come over. I was eternally grateful for his intervention. We had such a nice cozy night at home. I managed a good night's sleep and was able to avoid the potential disaster of a night of exhaustion masked by alcohol. The next afternoon we went for brunch and discussed the whole Narc situation yet again. My primary grievance--that a week had gone by since I'd seen him and although I had contacted him five or six times, he never replied to a single text message or phone call. I was confused and sure he was sending me some kind of intentional negative message. Yet again, my feelings were hurt, and B encouraged me not to put up with it. Right there in the diner I wrote Narc a text telling him that I'm "sick of being disrespected" and that there's no excuse not to return my calls over the course of a whole week. Knowing him, I didn't expect a reply.
I spent the rest of the afternoon reading about Wagner's philosophical interests--mostly Feuerbach and Schopenhauer. I didn't feel like being around people so I went into St. Bartholomew's Church and did my reading there. It was peaceful and dim. Walking home later in the day I chatted with Jessica on the phone about life and boys and drama. At some point during our conversation Narc texted me back. He was quite uncongenial, declaring that he was sick of my "emotional histrionics," that he had made it "very very clear" that he would be writing all week and that I should "let him be." I was floored by the level of hostility in his tone. I wrote him back a simple "ok. goodbye," and then burst into a "histrionic" flood of tears. After a few words with B and then Hammer, I calmed down and wrote back to Narc that I was sorry my message upset him. I didn't mean to be hysterical or harsh, but didn't know that the fact that he had to write this week meant that we could have no contact at all. I told him that I would "let him be" and that I guess "that's it for us." He told me to "stop being so dramatic" and to "let him write;" he'd be in touch in a few days. I didn't respond. I was just spent from the crying spell and didn't know what to say. I pulled myself together, got dressed for the evening and headed over to Cheers for a few drinks. I was supposed to have met Jake at a poetry reading at 7:00, but was dreadfully late due to the emotional ambush.
Eventually, I got in touch with Jake and went to meet him and a few of his friends downtown. His friends departed early and Jake and I ended up at the Thirsty Scholar for drinks, and drink we did! We were both pretty far gone by the time we headed home around 1:00 am. I went back into Cheers for another two hours or so...so unecessary, but that's me. Although I don't remember the end of the evening, I was able to piece most of it together this morning. Apparantly, my insecurity and lack of judgement triumphed because I didn't "let Narc be," instead calling him several times between 3:00 and 3:30. He got annoyed enough that he texted me to stop calling him immediately if I had any interest in "retaining his friendship." (A statement which begs the question, "what friendship?" but that's another issue). This morning I woke up sick about all of this, but angry at him as well. For me, that's a good thing. I'm never angry enough. I deleted all of our text correspondence from my phone along with his numbers. I don't ever want to call him again, but there's only one way to accomplish that-- it means I can't drink.
So today is day one of my week long abstinance. I am going to embrace sobriety wholeheartedly! No more Hyde...only Jekyll! On another note, I was sad to see this morning that I lost my amethyst. I must have left it in the bar or else it's lying on the street sadly burried in one of the ubiquitous mounds of smoggy piss-colored snow. (Snow that had fallen like magic last Saturday as I left his house). I also can't find my credit card or my scarf, but I suspect those are still at Cheers.
B and I had lunch today in "Curry Hill." It was pretty good--a ton of food for a good price. I'm at school now, but have to meet VJ in a little while. I want to stop in the gem gallery on Madison and see if I can pick up a new crystal. So I guess that's it for now. I'm tired.
Friday's teaching marathon left me completely wiped. Never again will I attempt such a feat on only three hours of sleep! I came home and napped for a while, remaining in a state of utter fatigue. Not wanting to face my feelings or stay in for the night, I limpidly attempted to get into the "friday night" spirit by showering and reapplying my makeup. Around 11:00 I was about to head out to Cheers when B called and asked if he could come over. I was eternally grateful for his intervention. We had such a nice cozy night at home. I managed a good night's sleep and was able to avoid the potential disaster of a night of exhaustion masked by alcohol. The next afternoon we went for brunch and discussed the whole Narc situation yet again. My primary grievance--that a week had gone by since I'd seen him and although I had contacted him five or six times, he never replied to a single text message or phone call. I was confused and sure he was sending me some kind of intentional negative message. Yet again, my feelings were hurt, and B encouraged me not to put up with it. Right there in the diner I wrote Narc a text telling him that I'm "sick of being disrespected" and that there's no excuse not to return my calls over the course of a whole week. Knowing him, I didn't expect a reply.
I spent the rest of the afternoon reading about Wagner's philosophical interests--mostly Feuerbach and Schopenhauer. I didn't feel like being around people so I went into St. Bartholomew's Church and did my reading there. It was peaceful and dim. Walking home later in the day I chatted with Jessica on the phone about life and boys and drama. At some point during our conversation Narc texted me back. He was quite uncongenial, declaring that he was sick of my "emotional histrionics," that he had made it "very very clear" that he would be writing all week and that I should "let him be." I was floored by the level of hostility in his tone. I wrote him back a simple "ok. goodbye," and then burst into a "histrionic" flood of tears. After a few words with B and then Hammer, I calmed down and wrote back to Narc that I was sorry my message upset him. I didn't mean to be hysterical or harsh, but didn't know that the fact that he had to write this week meant that we could have no contact at all. I told him that I would "let him be" and that I guess "that's it for us." He told me to "stop being so dramatic" and to "let him write;" he'd be in touch in a few days. I didn't respond. I was just spent from the crying spell and didn't know what to say. I pulled myself together, got dressed for the evening and headed over to Cheers for a few drinks. I was supposed to have met Jake at a poetry reading at 7:00, but was dreadfully late due to the emotional ambush.
Eventually, I got in touch with Jake and went to meet him and a few of his friends downtown. His friends departed early and Jake and I ended up at the Thirsty Scholar for drinks, and drink we did! We were both pretty far gone by the time we headed home around 1:00 am. I went back into Cheers for another two hours or so...so unecessary, but that's me. Although I don't remember the end of the evening, I was able to piece most of it together this morning. Apparantly, my insecurity and lack of judgement triumphed because I didn't "let Narc be," instead calling him several times between 3:00 and 3:30. He got annoyed enough that he texted me to stop calling him immediately if I had any interest in "retaining his friendship." (A statement which begs the question, "what friendship?" but that's another issue). This morning I woke up sick about all of this, but angry at him as well. For me, that's a good thing. I'm never angry enough. I deleted all of our text correspondence from my phone along with his numbers. I don't ever want to call him again, but there's only one way to accomplish that-- it means I can't drink.
So today is day one of my week long abstinance. I am going to embrace sobriety wholeheartedly! No more Hyde...only Jekyll! On another note, I was sad to see this morning that I lost my amethyst. I must have left it in the bar or else it's lying on the street sadly burried in one of the ubiquitous mounds of smoggy piss-colored snow. (Snow that had fallen like magic last Saturday as I left his house). I also can't find my credit card or my scarf, but I suspect those are still at Cheers.
B and I had lunch today in "Curry Hill." It was pretty good--a ton of food for a good price. I'm at school now, but have to meet VJ in a little while. I want to stop in the gem gallery on Madison and see if I can pick up a new crystal. So I guess that's it for now. I'm tired.
Friday, January 28, 2005
The One Woman Meistersinger
I'm on break from teaching right now. Just had to stop in my office and rant about how insane this is. I'm on three hours of sleep. I just lectured for three hours. Now I have a 20 min break and then I have to lecture another three hours. Six fucking hours of speaking into a chalkboard!!! My life is becoming Wagnerian. I'm a one woman Meistersinger!!!
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Yo-Yo Hyde
I'm sitting with an absolutely sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Narc still hasn't called or contacted me since Saturday even though I sent him a few texts on Tuesday. I know it has only been two days, but after our week together, it feels like an eternity. I imagine that he's purposely avoiding me. I know that when I see him he's going to act all casual about it, telling me that he was busy with work, and pretend that it’s normal not to respond to a text message for days on end. Maybe I'm stupid for staying involved, but it’s hard to help myself. He's somehow already under my skin...in my body and my heart in a way I can't seem to ignore. I have to try. I have to try to ignore him. There's no other way to deal with it when he treats me like a fucking yo-yo.
Ughhh... So enough about him. I need to focus on something else. Today has to be all about beginnings. It's the first day of the new semester and even though I don't technically have class or teaching until tomorrow, I feel like I have to start fresh today. I am still pretty upset at myself for my little "medicinal" binge on Tuesday night. I have a voice lesson in about 45 minutes, and I just don't know how I'm going to be able to sing with all of this shit still stuck in my nasal passages and burning in my throat. It really fucks with my voice for at least a week or so. I don’t want to give up hope though. I read an article in the NY Times about another opera singer, Andrea Gruber, who had been heavy into drugs for years. She used to sing at the Met in the early '90s all drugged up--a feat I can't even IMAGINE! Anyway, eventually her career started to fall apart, but now she's back and clean and singing the title role in Turandot this month. I’m not trying to say that fucking up my body is okay; rather, I simply need to believe that just because I've made mistakes, it doesn't mean I can't get my singing back on track.
Anyway, last night (after delicious sushi), Hammer, the Wizard and I went to see Million Dollar Baby. The second half of the movie left me wiped. I feel totally drained from the emotional experience. We went to a late show (got out around 1:00 a.m.) and I was so tired from not having slept the night before that my body started shutting down. I couldn't get my teeth to stop chattering. ("Poppy" was out big time!) I caught a cab home and fell asleep almost immediately, grateful that I didn't have to put up with my usual insomnia. I still don't feel entirely rested this morning though, and am not looking forward to going out into the sub-zero weather.
Tonight I have the intellectual history seminar. I still have to read the paper we're discussing--a chapter on Sartre and Post-Colonialism. I should make a promise to myself now not to have wine with dinner. I know that if I start drinking I'm going to end up making it a late night at Keats and I really can't afford to do that. Friday is my first day of teaching for the semester, and six hours of lecturing will not be sustainable if it my brain is trying to filter out the typical alcohol-fog of a "day-after."
That's it for now. Must go find my lipstick. And my amethyst. I think it helped cure me yesterday.
Ughhh... So enough about him. I need to focus on something else. Today has to be all about beginnings. It's the first day of the new semester and even though I don't technically have class or teaching until tomorrow, I feel like I have to start fresh today. I am still pretty upset at myself for my little "medicinal" binge on Tuesday night. I have a voice lesson in about 45 minutes, and I just don't know how I'm going to be able to sing with all of this shit still stuck in my nasal passages and burning in my throat. It really fucks with my voice for at least a week or so. I don’t want to give up hope though. I read an article in the NY Times about another opera singer, Andrea Gruber, who had been heavy into drugs for years. She used to sing at the Met in the early '90s all drugged up--a feat I can't even IMAGINE! Anyway, eventually her career started to fall apart, but now she's back and clean and singing the title role in Turandot this month. I’m not trying to say that fucking up my body is okay; rather, I simply need to believe that just because I've made mistakes, it doesn't mean I can't get my singing back on track.
Anyway, last night (after delicious sushi), Hammer, the Wizard and I went to see Million Dollar Baby. The second half of the movie left me wiped. I feel totally drained from the emotional experience. We went to a late show (got out around 1:00 a.m.) and I was so tired from not having slept the night before that my body started shutting down. I couldn't get my teeth to stop chattering. ("Poppy" was out big time!) I caught a cab home and fell asleep almost immediately, grateful that I didn't have to put up with my usual insomnia. I still don't feel entirely rested this morning though, and am not looking forward to going out into the sub-zero weather.
Tonight I have the intellectual history seminar. I still have to read the paper we're discussing--a chapter on Sartre and Post-Colonialism. I should make a promise to myself now not to have wine with dinner. I know that if I start drinking I'm going to end up making it a late night at Keats and I really can't afford to do that. Friday is my first day of teaching for the semester, and six hours of lecturing will not be sustainable if it my brain is trying to filter out the typical alcohol-fog of a "day-after."
That's it for now. Must go find my lipstick. And my amethyst. I think it helped cure me yesterday.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
An Amethyst in my Pocket
I definitely don't rock. Didn't go to sleep last night. So tired and a little hungry and nauseated right now. Going to meet Hammer to get a pedicure. I think I need a more thorough cure than that. Narc is completely ignoring me. I totally broke my resolution last night. When I told IrishBird about my ghosts, she told me to pray to Jesus Christ to cast them out. I wrote a poem on a napkin. I walked a drunk man named Shamus back to his apartment. I hung out with a guy named Sean Duffy. I have an amethyst in my pocket.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Monday, January 24, 2005
Haunted
I thought my anxiety was gone, but it's really not. Last night was the first night I've been alone in my house since last Sunday. I couldn't sleep a wink. I got in bed around midnight but didn't fall asleep until around 6:00 am. I was being haunted. I was surrounded by unfriendly spirits. Each time I would drift into a sleep-state, they would disturb me. At one point, I felt my foot hanging off the bed and I felt someone grab onto it. I jerked my head up and thought I saw two boys running away. Then I looked and saw that my foot was not off the bed at all. In fact, I was squarely in the middle of my bed. Later, I opened my eyes in the dark and thought I saw a hand pressing through my wall as if there were someone trapped behind it. When I looked again, the wall was still and smooth. These things continued all night. I just had to hope that I was exhausted enough that I would finally fall asleep anyway, even with my heart pounding so fast. I finally mangaged to snatch a few hours of rest away from those ghosts.
Thoughts of committment this morning. Being committed to someone or something. I have been thinking that "committment" means more than being sexually faithful to another person. Being committed to another person means doing what you can for that person's well being. For example, I know that B and I are completely committed to each other as friends. I have to wonder if Narc will ever be committed to me in that way. Would he come over if I were sick? Would he feed my cat if I needed him to? I am suddenly unsettled.
Last night while I was trying to sleep I got to watch Kiefer on Inside the Actor's Studio. He said that his grandfather once told him: "You're not a dumb boy. You know what's right and what's wrong, and you know what you value. Now you just have to try your best to live by that." I think it was very apropo advice. I do know what I want, what I value and who I want to be. I've just been so fucking lazy about it.
Anyway, I have to head out to run some errands and get some work done today. Something isn't sitting well with me right now. I miss that feeling of peace from last night...
Oh, by the way--I got my diary back!!! They had it at Waikiki Wally's. When I went down there last night to pick it up, the bartender told me to "take care of myself." I guess she read it. Oh well...
Thoughts of committment this morning. Being committed to someone or something. I have been thinking that "committment" means more than being sexually faithful to another person. Being committed to another person means doing what you can for that person's well being. For example, I know that B and I are completely committed to each other as friends. I have to wonder if Narc will ever be committed to me in that way. Would he come over if I were sick? Would he feed my cat if I needed him to? I am suddenly unsettled.
Last night while I was trying to sleep I got to watch Kiefer on Inside the Actor's Studio. He said that his grandfather once told him: "You're not a dumb boy. You know what's right and what's wrong, and you know what you value. Now you just have to try your best to live by that." I think it was very apropo advice. I do know what I want, what I value and who I want to be. I've just been so fucking lazy about it.
Anyway, I have to head out to run some errands and get some work done today. Something isn't sitting well with me right now. I miss that feeling of peace from last night...
Oh, by the way--I got my diary back!!! They had it at Waikiki Wally's. When I went down there last night to pick it up, the bartender told me to "take care of myself." I guess she read it. Oh well...
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Regression or Progression? Part II
So, back to my story...
When I got to Narc's on Wednesday night, he was really sweet to me. We bummed around for a while. He taught me how to play "Resident Evil," and showed me his short film that I had been asking about for a while. We watched some "I love the '90s" on VH1 and just had a cozy nice time. He sincerely apologized for the night before and told me that the UN woman was just someone he had gone out with a few times before breaking it off. I didn't ask about it. I mean, it's not like I had been committed to him either. A perfect night! I felt close to him all over again, but in a saner reality-based way. Since I got there at 1:00 am or so, we stayed up until 4:00 or 5:00.
What happened the next morning was truly bizarre!
At around noon, his doorman started buzzing up to the apartment. The buzzing just wouldn't stop. I asked if we should get the door, but he insisted that he wasn't expecting anyone and that we could just ignore it. After 15 minutes or so of buzzing we suddenly heard footsteps and voices in the living room. A moment later a group of policemen burst into the bedroom! I dove under the covers (being that I wasn't wearing anything), and Narc asked what they were doing there. It turns out that the UN woman had panicked after Narc never returned her angry phone call and imagined him dead in the apartment, eventually calling the police. The whole episode was so strange. Later when we finally got out of bed, she had sent him an email titled "You're pathetic!" in which she called him out for being a jerk to her and told him that the police had reported back to her that he was safe, but naked in bed with another girl. I don't blame her for being upset, but I was pretty embarassed by the incident and felt a little weird being in that position. I told him to write her back and apoligze, but he said that she had no business doing that and he didn't have anything to say to her. Also weird for me to have an inside view on the other end of his non-communication tactics.
I ended up staying the day before finally taking off around 9:00 or so. I was supposed to meet a friend at Cheers at 10:30 and had to shower and change first. Drinks with my friend was fun, but he wanted to head home around 1:00 am (part of the working world I guess). I, on the other hand, had slept all day and was just getting revved up for the night. There was a Pakistani man at the bar who IrishBird introduced me to. She told me that he's shy and has trouble talking to women and had just moved to NY and didn't know anyone. We started chatting and he said that he'd met me before. He seemed to know a lot about me, like what I was studying and where I lived. I thought it was strange b/c I really didn't remember him. Later he confessed that once we were both outside smoking and I was talking to another boy and he overheard all that stuff about me. I think it was the Billy-boy night. Anyway, we moved bars when Cheers closed (back to Manchester Pub where I met another nice bartender, Mave. Also, a guy named Phil was there both Tuesday and Thursday and we hung out for a while). We kept drinking and the Pakistani man started getting all formal romantic on me. He started saying things like "you are a very beautiful lady" and asked if I was available. I told him that I was not, but we talked more anyway. He walked me home and tried to kiss me and I said that I had to go. I was pretty drunk at that point--it was around 4:30 am. I ended up texting Narc to see if he was awake. As luck would have it, he was awake and drunk, just like me!
I hopped in a cab to go see him and once again had a really nice time with him. Skipping ahead, we slept in the next day until around 1:00 pm. Then we just bummed around again, being completely decadent. I felt like an old world aristocrat. We watched a lot of crap on TV, including parts of Bloodsport and Top Gun, ordered in food, and eventually when we could stand it no longer, tried to make a plan to go out. Yes, you heard correctly! A PLAN to GO OUT together... I feel so victorious. I also feel so pathetic that after 6 months of seeing him, I feel victorious over something so minor. Whatever... We went to a few places, starting with Waikiki Wally's where we shared a giant drink the size of a fish bowl with a flaming volcano in the middle. I had a good time just talking and getting to know each other better...stories about what we've been in the past and where we want to go from here, etc. Anyway, at one point in the night he told me that I was being "tacky" b/c I mentioned other guys too much. I was taken aback because I was treating him as a friend, being open with him, and didn't know I was supposed to be sensitive about it. In fact, I thought he would feel less threatened by my declarations of love last month if they were somehow contextualized. Because I was drunk and because I can't handle criticism from boys I let myself be vulnerable to, I got pretty upset and was trying to not cry. As B knows well, you can see my crys coming on from a mile away...I start to get a lip tremble thing as a warning. When Narc saw that, he tried to give me a hug. I protested and asked how I'm supposed to know how to act with him when I never know how he feels about me or about anything. He was incredulous. He asked how I could not know how he feels. I said that I just don't. He said that he can't say he loves me because he "doesn't know what that means" and it has all kind of loaded relationship subtext, but he stared me straight in the eye and took my hand and said "I adore you!" I just melted into a puddle on the floor. I don't think I've recovered yet. I am still floating on that one. Anyway, we kept drinking and hanging out until I was too wasted to remember details, went home and crashed around 5:00 am.
The next day we slept in pretty late. I couldn't believe it was Saturday but I was still in my Thursday clothes. I showered over there, but was cranky b/c I didn't have my hair products. We ended up once again wasting the day away in a hedonistic fog, watching TV, ordering take out, etc. His body language definitely has changed towards me in the past few days. He had become very affectionate in a sweet way and I was happy. I knew I had to leave though. Neither one of us had done a stitch of work since before we hooked up on Tuesday. He had those writing deadlines, and I have my incompletes. I kept making weak attempts to get up and get dressed, but he kept saying I should stay a little longer. This went on all the way until after SNL when at 1:00 am I got my stuff together. I tried to make myself semi-presentable so I could stop in at Cheers. It wasn't that easy to do without all of my schminken though.
The whole day long it had been snowing, and I had to head out into the blizzard. There were mounds of snow at every street corner and the city was silent. It felt magical to be outside just then. I had no trouble getting a cab, but realized that I didn't have my journal with me. ARGHHHHHHH!!!! Where was it? Where could I have left it? I called Narc in a panic. He took a look around and said it wasn't there. I tried calling the bars we had been to, but they were crowded and couldn't help me. I was flooded with anxiety, but there was nothing I could do. When I got uptown I went into Cheers. FightingMensch, Gambler and BulgarianGuy were playing blackjack. PumpedUp was bartending and BarMan was running Karaoke. Huh? Where was IrishBird? Something was definitely wrong. PumpedUp seemed in a good mood, but when I asked where IrishBird was he said flippantly, "why don't you call her tomorrow and find out?" I was slamming down the Jack Daniels, although I'm not sure why. PumpedUp was amazed and BulgarianGuy said I was drinking it as if it were tea. I need to stop..."New Year, New Me." Right? I'm going to try again this week. Anyway, I sang a few songs and hung out with BulgarianGuy a bit. They closed up around 3:00 so BulgarianGuy and I walked up to Manchester Pub for a few more. I got pretty wasted and so did he. He kept telling me how much he likes me and hasn't met anyone else like me, especially here in the States, etc. I told him that my heart is somewhere else and that I like him as a friend, but that I don't want to hook up or anything like that. He came back to my place and we hung out and talked for a while. Finally I passed out.
I woke up this morning on the bathroom floor. BulgarianGuy was passed out on my couch. I got up, got dressed and we went out for brunch. He drank two Coronas and that's it. He said that in Bulgaria they drink beer for breakfast.
Okay....
Now I'm back in my house and it's twilight. The city seems so calm outside and I feel like I can finally rest. Things are so much better in my head. All of the anxiety lingering from my chaotic December and my ambiguity with Narc is lifting out of me. I really do feel peaceful right now and I'm determined to have a productive day tomorrow. I really hope this new year is going to be a good one. I just have to keep my habits in check and remember that I have goals to work towards. And I have to sing again.
So that's it, goodnight for now! I'm going to go enjoy this feeling.
PS: IrishBird called me today. She was upset last night, but glad that I checked on her. I hope she has resolution in the new year too.
When I got to Narc's on Wednesday night, he was really sweet to me. We bummed around for a while. He taught me how to play "Resident Evil," and showed me his short film that I had been asking about for a while. We watched some "I love the '90s" on VH1 and just had a cozy nice time. He sincerely apologized for the night before and told me that the UN woman was just someone he had gone out with a few times before breaking it off. I didn't ask about it. I mean, it's not like I had been committed to him either. A perfect night! I felt close to him all over again, but in a saner reality-based way. Since I got there at 1:00 am or so, we stayed up until 4:00 or 5:00.
What happened the next morning was truly bizarre!
At around noon, his doorman started buzzing up to the apartment. The buzzing just wouldn't stop. I asked if we should get the door, but he insisted that he wasn't expecting anyone and that we could just ignore it. After 15 minutes or so of buzzing we suddenly heard footsteps and voices in the living room. A moment later a group of policemen burst into the bedroom! I dove under the covers (being that I wasn't wearing anything), and Narc asked what they were doing there. It turns out that the UN woman had panicked after Narc never returned her angry phone call and imagined him dead in the apartment, eventually calling the police. The whole episode was so strange. Later when we finally got out of bed, she had sent him an email titled "You're pathetic!" in which she called him out for being a jerk to her and told him that the police had reported back to her that he was safe, but naked in bed with another girl. I don't blame her for being upset, but I was pretty embarassed by the incident and felt a little weird being in that position. I told him to write her back and apoligze, but he said that she had no business doing that and he didn't have anything to say to her. Also weird for me to have an inside view on the other end of his non-communication tactics.
I ended up staying the day before finally taking off around 9:00 or so. I was supposed to meet a friend at Cheers at 10:30 and had to shower and change first. Drinks with my friend was fun, but he wanted to head home around 1:00 am (part of the working world I guess). I, on the other hand, had slept all day and was just getting revved up for the night. There was a Pakistani man at the bar who IrishBird introduced me to. She told me that he's shy and has trouble talking to women and had just moved to NY and didn't know anyone. We started chatting and he said that he'd met me before. He seemed to know a lot about me, like what I was studying and where I lived. I thought it was strange b/c I really didn't remember him. Later he confessed that once we were both outside smoking and I was talking to another boy and he overheard all that stuff about me. I think it was the Billy-boy night. Anyway, we moved bars when Cheers closed (back to Manchester Pub where I met another nice bartender, Mave. Also, a guy named Phil was there both Tuesday and Thursday and we hung out for a while). We kept drinking and the Pakistani man started getting all formal romantic on me. He started saying things like "you are a very beautiful lady" and asked if I was available. I told him that I was not, but we talked more anyway. He walked me home and tried to kiss me and I said that I had to go. I was pretty drunk at that point--it was around 4:30 am. I ended up texting Narc to see if he was awake. As luck would have it, he was awake and drunk, just like me!
I hopped in a cab to go see him and once again had a really nice time with him. Skipping ahead, we slept in the next day until around 1:00 pm. Then we just bummed around again, being completely decadent. I felt like an old world aristocrat. We watched a lot of crap on TV, including parts of Bloodsport and Top Gun, ordered in food, and eventually when we could stand it no longer, tried to make a plan to go out. Yes, you heard correctly! A PLAN to GO OUT together... I feel so victorious. I also feel so pathetic that after 6 months of seeing him, I feel victorious over something so minor. Whatever... We went to a few places, starting with Waikiki Wally's where we shared a giant drink the size of a fish bowl with a flaming volcano in the middle. I had a good time just talking and getting to know each other better...stories about what we've been in the past and where we want to go from here, etc. Anyway, at one point in the night he told me that I was being "tacky" b/c I mentioned other guys too much. I was taken aback because I was treating him as a friend, being open with him, and didn't know I was supposed to be sensitive about it. In fact, I thought he would feel less threatened by my declarations of love last month if they were somehow contextualized. Because I was drunk and because I can't handle criticism from boys I let myself be vulnerable to, I got pretty upset and was trying to not cry. As B knows well, you can see my crys coming on from a mile away...I start to get a lip tremble thing as a warning. When Narc saw that, he tried to give me a hug. I protested and asked how I'm supposed to know how to act with him when I never know how he feels about me or about anything. He was incredulous. He asked how I could not know how he feels. I said that I just don't. He said that he can't say he loves me because he "doesn't know what that means" and it has all kind of loaded relationship subtext, but he stared me straight in the eye and took my hand and said "I adore you!" I just melted into a puddle on the floor. I don't think I've recovered yet. I am still floating on that one. Anyway, we kept drinking and hanging out until I was too wasted to remember details, went home and crashed around 5:00 am.
The next day we slept in pretty late. I couldn't believe it was Saturday but I was still in my Thursday clothes. I showered over there, but was cranky b/c I didn't have my hair products. We ended up once again wasting the day away in a hedonistic fog, watching TV, ordering take out, etc. His body language definitely has changed towards me in the past few days. He had become very affectionate in a sweet way and I was happy. I knew I had to leave though. Neither one of us had done a stitch of work since before we hooked up on Tuesday. He had those writing deadlines, and I have my incompletes. I kept making weak attempts to get up and get dressed, but he kept saying I should stay a little longer. This went on all the way until after SNL when at 1:00 am I got my stuff together. I tried to make myself semi-presentable so I could stop in at Cheers. It wasn't that easy to do without all of my schminken though.
The whole day long it had been snowing, and I had to head out into the blizzard. There were mounds of snow at every street corner and the city was silent. It felt magical to be outside just then. I had no trouble getting a cab, but realized that I didn't have my journal with me. ARGHHHHHHH!!!! Where was it? Where could I have left it? I called Narc in a panic. He took a look around and said it wasn't there. I tried calling the bars we had been to, but they were crowded and couldn't help me. I was flooded with anxiety, but there was nothing I could do. When I got uptown I went into Cheers. FightingMensch, Gambler and BulgarianGuy were playing blackjack. PumpedUp was bartending and BarMan was running Karaoke. Huh? Where was IrishBird? Something was definitely wrong. PumpedUp seemed in a good mood, but when I asked where IrishBird was he said flippantly, "why don't you call her tomorrow and find out?" I was slamming down the Jack Daniels, although I'm not sure why. PumpedUp was amazed and BulgarianGuy said I was drinking it as if it were tea. I need to stop..."New Year, New Me." Right? I'm going to try again this week. Anyway, I sang a few songs and hung out with BulgarianGuy a bit. They closed up around 3:00 so BulgarianGuy and I walked up to Manchester Pub for a few more. I got pretty wasted and so did he. He kept telling me how much he likes me and hasn't met anyone else like me, especially here in the States, etc. I told him that my heart is somewhere else and that I like him as a friend, but that I don't want to hook up or anything like that. He came back to my place and we hung out and talked for a while. Finally I passed out.
I woke up this morning on the bathroom floor. BulgarianGuy was passed out on my couch. I got up, got dressed and we went out for brunch. He drank two Coronas and that's it. He said that in Bulgaria they drink beer for breakfast.
Okay....
Now I'm back in my house and it's twilight. The city seems so calm outside and I feel like I can finally rest. Things are so much better in my head. All of the anxiety lingering from my chaotic December and my ambiguity with Narc is lifting out of me. I really do feel peaceful right now and I'm determined to have a productive day tomorrow. I really hope this new year is going to be a good one. I just have to keep my habits in check and remember that I have goals to work towards. And I have to sing again.
So that's it, goodnight for now! I'm going to go enjoy this feeling.
PS: IrishBird called me today. She was upset last night, but glad that I checked on her. I hope she has resolution in the new year too.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Regression or Progression? Part I
The events of the past two days have blown away my illusions of a "peaceful" New Year, but at the same time, I'm happier now than I was on Tuesday morning, so it's all for the best. Tuesday evening was relatively calm... the calm before the storm. I watched the new Law & Order SVU at 10:00 and the actors who played the parents of the suspect were Nora and John Sykes from OLTL. It was a little disconcerting. I tried to read something into it, but came up empty. B and I had a tense phone call. I subjecting him to my repetitive untangling of the Narc mess and he got "short" with me said he had to go. I got all emotional (as I'm prone to do) and asked him why he makes me feel like a burden. We ended up hanging up upset and apoligizing a few minutes later. The phone call left me unsettled though, and I didn't want to be at home. I sat on my bed for a while as Jekyll and Hyde battled it out in my head... to go out drinking or not to go out? That was the question. I decided that with my "New Year, New Me" attitude, I would try something I never do--moderation!
I went to Cheers (where else?) and hung out with IrishBird at the bar for a while, chugging diet cokes until my fingers were numb from the cold glass. When I first got there, BarMan and his roomate were at the bar, and I asked them for some friendly "relationship advice." Later, the bar emptied out (probably due to the frigid temperatures), leaving me with only two companions, each of us separated by a few bar stools. The guy to my right (Tom) struck up a conversation with me about closing time at New York bars. It turns out he is in this week from Chicago. He was drinking Maker's on the rocks. At "last call" (around 1:30) I decided to have "just one" and joined him for a glass of whiskey. One promptly turned into two before IrishBird and PumpedUp ushered us out.
Tom was not in the mood to go home; nor was I. I suggested we walk up into the '50s and look for someplace else that was open. We ended up at Manchester Pub, chatting with a "off the boat" Irish bartender named Willy. Nice guy...he works a few places in the neighborhood, so I have to remember to follow up on that. Seven whiskeys later (or so) Tom and I relocated to my place for some "medicine." I urged him not to overdo it. My concerns were completley uncessary, as after just a touch of it, he passed out on my couch. I continued to enjoy myself for a while until about 4:30am when I called Liu in a slightly manic state of mind. While we were on the phone, Narc interrupted via call waiting. He was even more wasted than I was...in a state I've only seen matched the night of the "your life is shit" phone call last month. Anyway, he demanded my presence, but I had the problem of the man passed out on my couch. After some negotiation (mention of the Whitney, brunch at "Bubby's," and a weak attempt on my part to explain that I was not hooking up with man on my couch) I agreed to meet him. I had to literally shake Tom to wake him up and physically support him step by step as we left the building. Back into the blasting wind, I dragged Tom to his hotel, ignoring the stream of drunken phone calls muffled in my pocket. Eyes dialted and fighting cotton mouth, I had to figure out Tom's room number, arrange a wake-up call for him, resist his advances in the elevator and his hotel room (while excusing myself for the bitter taste) and dash into a cab as fast as I could. At least my efforts were rewarded when Tom told me over and over what a "wonderful person" I am. Thanks!
Narc's messages were increasingly paranoid and drunk. I finally picked up once in the cab only to be accused of not really being on my way. The cab driver took the phone and assured him I'd be there in 10 minutes. The details of my evening there are not exactly blog-appropriate, so I'll skip on all that. The important point is that I can't imagine feeling closer to another human being, even though the feeling between us was of an unsustainable intensity that it's difficult to remember even now, just two days later. So far so good... It wasn't until the next morning that anything went wrong.
The next morning (after falling asleep at 8:00 am) I awoke sharply at 9:30, very wired. I tried to entertain myself for a few hours. I gossiped with Hammer for a while, checked my email, drew a picture, wrote in my journal, got dressed, and layed under the covers thinking about "everything and nothing." Finally around 12:00 I decided to try to wake up the snoring log next to me. He refused to budge. I spent the next hour persistintly trying to wake him up until my efforts deteriorated into pleas for him to at least open his eyes and say goodbye to me. The only thing coherent that he mumbled was a request for me to turn on the heater. I was heartbroken. Not only was there no brunch, but there wasn't even a "goodbye, have a nice day." While lacing up my boots his phone rang. It was a woman calling from work (at the UN of all places!) and asking him to explain his drunken 5:00 am phone call to her the night before. Not hard to figure out that he was dating this woman in some capacity. I finally gave up on him, wrote him a furious note (called him an asshole, said he didn't give a shit about me, told him he treats me like a "call girl" and makes me feel worthless...the usual), turned off the heaters hoping he would freeze his ass off, and left. I called him from the cab, telling his machine that he's "not a very nice person" and had succeeded in hurting my feelings, and ran to school to meet Bezukhoff. Once there, Bezukhoff and I ate lunch while I subjected him to more rambling about how much I was hating Narc (or should I say "Raskolnikov"?).
After Bezukhoff walked me home in the snow, I only had a few minutes before having to turn around and get to the West Side to meet B at Lincoln Plaza. We went to see
House of Flying Daggers before dinner at Yin Cheung.
On the way I sent Narc a text:
"On my way to meet friends, but we need to talk soon. I am pretty hurt. Felt very close to u last night but either need to let you go or address this. Please call."
When we got out of the movie, I had two voicemails from him and two texts, apologizing and asking me to call him ASAP. I didn't call back right away, as I was having quality time with B, but after dinner couldn't get it off my mind. B and I parted and I sludged through the snow to LaGuardia High School for BarMan's volleyball game. The game would have been a lot more fun if I weren't running on an hour and a half of sleep and haunted by what had happened. I caved and called him just as the game was beginning. His explanation-- he didn't remember a single thing from the night before (barely even that I had been there). He said I should have dragged him out of bed for brunch...he would have loved to go. I was a little floored by this perfect explanation which both negated my experience of being close to him the previous night while undermining my indignation from that morning. I didn't know what to say and was too exhausted to try. I just muttered something about not knowing what's going on between us and not wanting to get hurt. He suggested that we talk in person (sober for once) and that I go down there for a visit that night. I wasn't sure if I was going to hang out with BarMan and his crew after the game so I asked Narc if we could do it a different night and he said that he couldn't. That if I didn't go there that night, it would be two weeks before I could see him again because he had two upcoming writing deadlines. I said I would call him after the game. I was too wiped to make it through the whole game and just had to come home and shower and think. After my shower I felt better and went to Cheers, slammed down two Jack Daniels and decided to plunge back in to figuring this thing out.
This post is getting WAY too long, so I'm going to finish the story in another day or so...
I went to Cheers (where else?) and hung out with IrishBird at the bar for a while, chugging diet cokes until my fingers were numb from the cold glass. When I first got there, BarMan and his roomate were at the bar, and I asked them for some friendly "relationship advice." Later, the bar emptied out (probably due to the frigid temperatures), leaving me with only two companions, each of us separated by a few bar stools. The guy to my right (Tom) struck up a conversation with me about closing time at New York bars. It turns out he is in this week from Chicago. He was drinking Maker's on the rocks. At "last call" (around 1:30) I decided to have "just one" and joined him for a glass of whiskey. One promptly turned into two before IrishBird and PumpedUp ushered us out.
Tom was not in the mood to go home; nor was I. I suggested we walk up into the '50s and look for someplace else that was open. We ended up at Manchester Pub, chatting with a "off the boat" Irish bartender named Willy. Nice guy...he works a few places in the neighborhood, so I have to remember to follow up on that. Seven whiskeys later (or so) Tom and I relocated to my place for some "medicine." I urged him not to overdo it. My concerns were completley uncessary, as after just a touch of it, he passed out on my couch. I continued to enjoy myself for a while until about 4:30am when I called Liu in a slightly manic state of mind. While we were on the phone, Narc interrupted via call waiting. He was even more wasted than I was...in a state I've only seen matched the night of the "your life is shit" phone call last month. Anyway, he demanded my presence, but I had the problem of the man passed out on my couch. After some negotiation (mention of the Whitney, brunch at "Bubby's," and a weak attempt on my part to explain that I was not hooking up with man on my couch) I agreed to meet him. I had to literally shake Tom to wake him up and physically support him step by step as we left the building. Back into the blasting wind, I dragged Tom to his hotel, ignoring the stream of drunken phone calls muffled in my pocket. Eyes dialted and fighting cotton mouth, I had to figure out Tom's room number, arrange a wake-up call for him, resist his advances in the elevator and his hotel room (while excusing myself for the bitter taste) and dash into a cab as fast as I could. At least my efforts were rewarded when Tom told me over and over what a "wonderful person" I am. Thanks!
Narc's messages were increasingly paranoid and drunk. I finally picked up once in the cab only to be accused of not really being on my way. The cab driver took the phone and assured him I'd be there in 10 minutes. The details of my evening there are not exactly blog-appropriate, so I'll skip on all that. The important point is that I can't imagine feeling closer to another human being, even though the feeling between us was of an unsustainable intensity that it's difficult to remember even now, just two days later. So far so good... It wasn't until the next morning that anything went wrong.
The next morning (after falling asleep at 8:00 am) I awoke sharply at 9:30, very wired. I tried to entertain myself for a few hours. I gossiped with Hammer for a while, checked my email, drew a picture, wrote in my journal, got dressed, and layed under the covers thinking about "everything and nothing." Finally around 12:00 I decided to try to wake up the snoring log next to me. He refused to budge. I spent the next hour persistintly trying to wake him up until my efforts deteriorated into pleas for him to at least open his eyes and say goodbye to me. The only thing coherent that he mumbled was a request for me to turn on the heater. I was heartbroken. Not only was there no brunch, but there wasn't even a "goodbye, have a nice day." While lacing up my boots his phone rang. It was a woman calling from work (at the UN of all places!) and asking him to explain his drunken 5:00 am phone call to her the night before. Not hard to figure out that he was dating this woman in some capacity. I finally gave up on him, wrote him a furious note (called him an asshole, said he didn't give a shit about me, told him he treats me like a "call girl" and makes me feel worthless...the usual), turned off the heaters hoping he would freeze his ass off, and left. I called him from the cab, telling his machine that he's "not a very nice person" and had succeeded in hurting my feelings, and ran to school to meet Bezukhoff. Once there, Bezukhoff and I ate lunch while I subjected him to more rambling about how much I was hating Narc (or should I say "Raskolnikov"?).
After Bezukhoff walked me home in the snow, I only had a few minutes before having to turn around and get to the West Side to meet B at Lincoln Plaza. We went to see
House of Flying Daggers before dinner at Yin Cheung.
On the way I sent Narc a text:
"On my way to meet friends, but we need to talk soon. I am pretty hurt. Felt very close to u last night but either need to let you go or address this. Please call."
When we got out of the movie, I had two voicemails from him and two texts, apologizing and asking me to call him ASAP. I didn't call back right away, as I was having quality time with B, but after dinner couldn't get it off my mind. B and I parted and I sludged through the snow to LaGuardia High School for BarMan's volleyball game. The game would have been a lot more fun if I weren't running on an hour and a half of sleep and haunted by what had happened. I caved and called him just as the game was beginning. His explanation-- he didn't remember a single thing from the night before (barely even that I had been there). He said I should have dragged him out of bed for brunch...he would have loved to go. I was a little floored by this perfect explanation which both negated my experience of being close to him the previous night while undermining my indignation from that morning. I didn't know what to say and was too exhausted to try. I just muttered something about not knowing what's going on between us and not wanting to get hurt. He suggested that we talk in person (sober for once) and that I go down there for a visit that night. I wasn't sure if I was going to hang out with BarMan and his crew after the game so I asked Narc if we could do it a different night and he said that he couldn't. That if I didn't go there that night, it would be two weeks before I could see him again because he had two upcoming writing deadlines. I said I would call him after the game. I was too wiped to make it through the whole game and just had to come home and shower and think. After my shower I felt better and went to Cheers, slammed down two Jack Daniels and decided to plunge back in to figuring this thing out.
This post is getting WAY too long, so I'm going to finish the story in another day or so...
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Down to Work!
For the first day in a long while, I've finally done some school work. Ahh...being back here at school is all too familiar, coasting on my favorite cocktail of coffee and vivarin. My eyes are irritatingly blurring from staring at the computer screen for the past four hours without break. Ughhh! I guess vacation is officially over.
Last night I stayed over at B's--we had a date to watch 24. I've said it before and I'll say it again: "I LOVE JACK BAUER!"
This morning I made a procrastination-trip to Old Navy before getting to school. Once here, I paid off my library loans after months of deliquency, returned my slides to the art history department and met Bezukhoff for lunch. After finally being cleared for registration, I got shut out of the research seminar I need, so I have to wait to hear back from Berger and Gibson on that one. Some good news: I got an A in the German Modernism class! I was so sure I bombed on that final, but I guess once again I've managed to pull off a minor miracle.
Since lunch I've been working on the WWI paper. I finally came up with a thesis (of sorts) but I don't think it's very strong. I guess what I'm going to say is something about how debates about the “New Woman” had begun even before the war. What the war changed (in Germany) was was the nature of the anti-feminist arguments. Whereas before the war, misogynist rhetoric had been grounded in the science of biology and evolution, after the war, it became linked to an increasing association between women and the capitalist bourgeois culture that was being rejected by both the political left and political right. Whereas a lot of historians look at Weimar cultural misogyny as a product of male anxiety and post-war trauma, I'm going to argue that intellectuals were not really attacking women, but rather, were attacking the liberal/capitalist order. (And I guess at some point in the paper I'm going to try to draw a connection between the idea of "woman" and the inflation crisis).
Possible problems:
I feel like this is sort of an intellectually cheap exercise b/c it's never clear whether art and ideas are solely the product of individual personalities or whether one can use them to draw broader conclusions about the culture at large. I feel like I have this same issue with everything interdisciplinary that I try to write. Arghhh!!! Oh well... Whether or not this is a valid exercise, I'm going to try to do it anyway. I think I can justify extrapolating a few cultural generalizations from these works... In any case, the proliferation of certain images can't be ignored (ie the prostitute as archetypal woman). I just hope the paper doesn't come out weak in the end.
Anyway, I'm sick of sitting in this chair and sick of working on this paper, so I think I'll pack up and go home. It's already 6:30 and I have to call Hammer back...
(PS: Still waiting to hear back from Narc on the Whitney trip. I'm going to lose my fucking mind!)
Last night I stayed over at B's--we had a date to watch 24. I've said it before and I'll say it again: "I LOVE JACK BAUER!"
This morning I made a procrastination-trip to Old Navy before getting to school. Once here, I paid off my library loans after months of deliquency, returned my slides to the art history department and met Bezukhoff for lunch. After finally being cleared for registration, I got shut out of the research seminar I need, so I have to wait to hear back from Berger and Gibson on that one. Some good news: I got an A in the German Modernism class! I was so sure I bombed on that final, but I guess once again I've managed to pull off a minor miracle.
Since lunch I've been working on the WWI paper. I finally came up with a thesis (of sorts) but I don't think it's very strong. I guess what I'm going to say is something about how debates about the “New Woman” had begun even before the war. What the war changed (in Germany) was was the nature of the anti-feminist arguments. Whereas before the war, misogynist rhetoric had been grounded in the science of biology and evolution, after the war, it became linked to an increasing association between women and the capitalist bourgeois culture that was being rejected by both the political left and political right. Whereas a lot of historians look at Weimar cultural misogyny as a product of male anxiety and post-war trauma, I'm going to argue that intellectuals were not really attacking women, but rather, were attacking the liberal/capitalist order. (And I guess at some point in the paper I'm going to try to draw a connection between the idea of "woman" and the inflation crisis).
Possible problems:
I feel like this is sort of an intellectually cheap exercise b/c it's never clear whether art and ideas are solely the product of individual personalities or whether one can use them to draw broader conclusions about the culture at large. I feel like I have this same issue with everything interdisciplinary that I try to write. Arghhh!!! Oh well... Whether or not this is a valid exercise, I'm going to try to do it anyway. I think I can justify extrapolating a few cultural generalizations from these works... In any case, the proliferation of certain images can't be ignored (ie the prostitute as archetypal woman). I just hope the paper doesn't come out weak in the end.
Anyway, I'm sick of sitting in this chair and sick of working on this paper, so I think I'll pack up and go home. It's already 6:30 and I have to call Hammer back...
(PS: Still waiting to hear back from Narc on the Whitney trip. I'm going to lose my fucking mind!)
Sunday, January 16, 2005
P.S.
Just got off the phone with Liu and wanted to add one more thought on last night--I guess all of last year's "didtheyreadit" e-mails did get through to him in a way. Early on last night (before we met up) I told him that I didn't want a repeat of the "same old/same old" with us. He said that he understands and that we could just hang out and "didn't have to" sleep together. (Guess that didn't work!) But also-- when I asked him where he wanted to go last night he said anywhere...that he could come up here by me or I could go down there or we could meet somewhere halfway. He's never made that offer before, so maybe things are different! Anyway, I'm going to call him later this week and ask him to go to the Whitney with me. We'll see how he responds. Maybe...just maybe we can finally be friends.
Narcissist in the New Year
I don't know if it's from coming off the flu or if it's some sort of divine justice, but I'm both drunk and hung-over simultaneously right now. Blood-shot eyes definitely don't work with my new blonde-eyebrow look, but I guess it doesn't really matter. Last night started out innocently enough. I texted IrishBird to ask her what time she got on work so I could stop by and see her nice and early, of course intending only to stay for a drink or two, as my immnune system is currently shot. It didn't work that way though. EF ended up coming by and I stayed for a drink or 8, finally taking myself home around 12:30 or 1:00. It's then that Narc called and I agreed to meet him anywhere--his choice. Of course, he chose his place. I was already wasted on my way down there...not memory-loss wasted yet though. He tried to take me to some "hip" place but it was really loud in there, so we went across the street to some pub. I remember trying to act sober so the bartender would serve me. I started ordering shots...I guess I was a little nervous. I kept putting my head on his shoulder. He was being sweet. I guess he really wasn't, but he was being akward and I wanted to melt him and hug him. He was talking to me about personal stuff--just throwing it out there, looking for my sympathy I think...wanting to be close, but at the same time, being cold about it. Anyway, I don't remember the end of the night or getting back to his place or anything else that transpired that night. I woke up with him a few hours ago and he was holding me so tightly. I just want to go back to that. My head is pounding like crazy right now. His friend James came by (James from the first night we met) and the two of them had to go out to get some sort of adapter for their video game..."boy things." So we akwardly parted. He called me "hon," which I generally hate, but didn't mind today. I still have a mixture of Jack and Stoly on my breath. I need to get something to eat to pad this all away...that and a shower. I'm so stupid...wanted another drink this morning, but the bar is closed. Have to check myself... can't turn all alcoholic now. It is a new year, after all. But I guess that my Narcissist is back for the new year. Maybe it's not that new at all.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
The New Year
For the third day in a row I'm stuck at home with the flu. Funny-- with all of the physical abuse I put myself through, it's after a week of rest in Puerto Rico that I get sick like this!
The last two days of Liu's visit were a lot of fun. We went to see "Tales of Hoffman" on Thursday night and "Wonderful Town" on Friday afternoon. Thursday night was filled with a lot more "medicine," part of the adventure with the British kid who wants to name his son Billy-boy and left me with $100 and a few bruises; Friday was New Year's Eve, which went smoothly except for when FightingMensch threatened to beat up my brother-in-law and my friend AGrub. My only New Year's Eve regret--BigSis tells me that she tried to introduce me to a cute boy after my swaggering rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," but I was too drunk to care.
New Year's Day I woke up at 7:15 am in the doorway between the bathroom and the hallway on the floor in my overcoat. BigSis and Bro-in-Law were supposed to pick me up in a cab at 7:30 so I had to jump up, zip the suitcase, change my clothes, and stumble, still drunk, into the lobby. I barely had the chance to wish Liu (or my cat) a proper goodbye. Not the best way to start a New Year... In any case, Puerto Rico was a lot of fun, minus the 24-hour stomach virus that Hammer and I both came down with. We managed to pack a lot into our last day though, including horse-back riding on the beach and a sunset cruise. There's a lot more to say about the trip, but I really don't feel like writing about it right now.
Sunday I spent the day cleaning and hanging out in Cheers for a while, talking to BarMan. I got my film developed and the photo-shop guy who always flirts with me made a point of giving me free panoramics. It was cute. All day I was SO psyched for the season premier of 24. At around 7:00, B came over to watch, but by that time, I was already feeling a little run down. We went for a walk to pick up Indian food and someone threw a cigarette out of a window, almost hitting me in the head. By Monday I was sick beyond belief. I managed to get myself to the doctor late in the afternoon, but passed out by the elevators while attempting to leave the office. An office assistant found me and they made me wait in an exam room until BigSis could pick me up when she got off work. Since then I've been napping and running a fever while subsisting on Saltines and Gatorade. Yesterday I watched "Twelve Angry Men" on DVD.
The one benefit to such forced down time: more distance from my last contact with Narc. The more time that goes by, the less likely that I'll ever call him again. It's becoming more clear that in many ways he's just another addiction--another bad habit...
That's it for now... Seinfeld is starting...
The last two days of Liu's visit were a lot of fun. We went to see "Tales of Hoffman" on Thursday night and "Wonderful Town" on Friday afternoon. Thursday night was filled with a lot more "medicine," part of the adventure with the British kid who wants to name his son Billy-boy and left me with $100 and a few bruises; Friday was New Year's Eve, which went smoothly except for when FightingMensch threatened to beat up my brother-in-law and my friend AGrub. My only New Year's Eve regret--BigSis tells me that she tried to introduce me to a cute boy after my swaggering rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," but I was too drunk to care.
New Year's Day I woke up at 7:15 am in the doorway between the bathroom and the hallway on the floor in my overcoat. BigSis and Bro-in-Law were supposed to pick me up in a cab at 7:30 so I had to jump up, zip the suitcase, change my clothes, and stumble, still drunk, into the lobby. I barely had the chance to wish Liu (or my cat) a proper goodbye. Not the best way to start a New Year... In any case, Puerto Rico was a lot of fun, minus the 24-hour stomach virus that Hammer and I both came down with. We managed to pack a lot into our last day though, including horse-back riding on the beach and a sunset cruise. There's a lot more to say about the trip, but I really don't feel like writing about it right now.
Sunday I spent the day cleaning and hanging out in Cheers for a while, talking to BarMan. I got my film developed and the photo-shop guy who always flirts with me made a point of giving me free panoramics. It was cute. All day I was SO psyched for the season premier of 24. At around 7:00, B came over to watch, but by that time, I was already feeling a little run down. We went for a walk to pick up Indian food and someone threw a cigarette out of a window, almost hitting me in the head. By Monday I was sick beyond belief. I managed to get myself to the doctor late in the afternoon, but passed out by the elevators while attempting to leave the office. An office assistant found me and they made me wait in an exam room until BigSis could pick me up when she got off work. Since then I've been napping and running a fever while subsisting on Saltines and Gatorade. Yesterday I watched "Twelve Angry Men" on DVD.
The one benefit to such forced down time: more distance from my last contact with Narc. The more time that goes by, the less likely that I'll ever call him again. It's becoming more clear that in many ways he's just another addiction--another bad habit...
That's it for now... Seinfeld is starting...
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