BOY-DELLO!!

In my life men seem to be perpetually relegated to the status of "them" in the cosmic "them" and "us". It's as though my senses, through evolution, have been finely tuned to only seeing a few out of the masses of them, the same way my cat automatically, almost despite himself, chases after objects that are of a particular shape and speed. Their are only a few who break through the hazy field of "them", and to me those few are like a drug, like incense, they seem to be more than mortal, they are pure and enormous and powerful. Those are the few(the brave, the proud) who do not belong to either world of "them" or of "us."

I'm thirty years old and I've been doing this mating dance for almost half my life and you would think that men would start to make more sense to me, that they'd begin to seem less like aliens, but instead the opposite has happened. I am more confused by them now than I have ever been. They walk among us but they are not like us. It's little wonder with this kind of attitude it's hard for me to get dates..

When I was younger, boys held out the promise of so much love and fullfillment and excitement and adventure, but then my heart got broken, and it got broken again, and I cried and felt like a zombie for a week or a month or a year. I got optimistic again and got all into some guy and then got my heart broken again. and now I have this thrist for a boyfriend again. But I know it means that crying is going to have to come again and the fear and the stifling feeling of losing myself and feeling like a fool for loving the alien. I'm thirty and I'm just exhausted by it. after a while something happens to us, something changes, something just gives up..

And like a riot grrl or a girl who got her favorite toy taken away I want to put on combat boots and have a screaming, thrashing temper tantrum about all this disappointment and all this anger and sadness. I want to lash out at something, but there really is nothing to hit against, my fury is muffled by a soft, cushiony "acceptance", an attempt to grow older gracefully, without malice or hatred, because there are so many of them I'm angry with that to just start thinking of it makes me exhausted. But mostly my fury is tempered by my fear which seems to have made a more comfortable and permanant place for itself inside of me over the years.

I'm pissed off because this was all supposed to be so much fun. Being single and frolicking on the beach and drinking sunkist or having quick dark sex and walking home at dawn with your hair smelling of a stranger's semen, not having to be worried about being "tied down" by a husband or a kid. Boys would be there, romance would be there, it was all a given. After all, single people have more freedom and more sex and more romance, right?

Well, maybe boys do. All I know is that my girl friends and I gather together on a regular basis to mourn or laugh over the latest romantic fiasco or lack of one, while we get older, our biological clocks ticking, worrying about how we're ever gonna get the boy thing right in time to have a baby. and were getting more pessimsitic by the day. Suddenly we see out lives as a mysterious black hole, because we may not end up being part of a family portrait like we'd always expected, and may instead be hanging out and dating and eating doritos and worrying about our rent until we're ninety.

The loneliest thing about this is feeling like I'm the only one to be going through it, that all the rest of us did end up with the lives we were raised to believe we'd have. That there's something wrong with me for not being there. We are strong, independent, smart, thinking , laughing females and we'll always need to have our friends around to go out and play with.

SPUN LIKE A TURNTABLE

He says next to nothing to you. But expects you to welcome his tongue in your mouth. Because his universe is infinite. Your's is controlled. a sign of his victory and your defeat.I don't know you very well but I'm satisfied. You seem a little kinder than myself. And I know this is all an illusion. I can see myself spinning in your tornado of elimination...but I sit there waiting for an automatic comfort and instant bond..it's not just you..it's the idea of you..the idea of love to rub my hands across your back. To kiss you, knowing what no one else knows about you. I am young, but I have old eyes..I steal souls, but viscerally speaking..

I'm different from you and it scares you..I have disrupted your neat order.
your common sense your geometric world.

LOVE

I think love is the most beautiful thing in the world, and I don't give a fuck because I have no orginal ideas. I've seen a man jack off to a gap window display, so don't tell me that love isn't important.And maybe you didn't get that series of lines, that's okay. Most of them are subtext designed to impress people who know too much about art. All you need to listen to is the twelve percent which contain words like "fuck".

They say cupid loved "my so called life" and when the show was cancelled cupid cried and cried and cried and decided he was going to fuck up all of humanity, and this is why China has trouble with the birthrate and Arkansas rhymes with date rape and iraq is iraq, and the fat lipo-sucked out of california could be it's own island.

But this isn't about geography this is about love, the bane of my exsistence, the reason I hate Valentine's day and Halloween, which is about ghosts and I think you know where I'm going here. I'm going to the land of boyfriends of halloweens past, and maybe I only got three ghosts in this land, but this doesn't mean they don't bring their friends, who are the ghosts of boys who have rejected me, because boys rarely travel alone in this land. Sychler is from this land.

I used to kiss him while listening to the cure's " Just Like Heaven," now I don't see him anymore, so that song makes me sad, why must we associate music with our love lives? I'm not trying to be profound here, I'm just saying that music really takes me back, way back, And I can't explain the memory process involved in that, because I'm not a pychology major.

It's not fair. And love is not fair. And war is not fair. And I don't care what anyone has to say about any of that, I feel unloved. I'm sorry I need people to tell me I'm cool. I'm just that way. Aren't you? Am I the only one? I know that I can't be that misunderstood.

But you don't want to understand me! This is not the direction I wanted to take this. Honestly I just want to be in the arms of my true love, in a house, in a room, in a wonderful perfect world with our two children, but maybe I shouldn't have said this, Woody Allen taught us that Marriage is a death trap.I don't have any answers and I'm looking for help from anyone, because love has got me fucked up and dying, because I feel retarded without anyone to hold me, and that's sentimental, but what's wrong with sentimental? I just need love.

to self: fuck you! I'm okay!

you see I can't even decide what I need much less understand what I'm saying.

"1. Bang On - The Breeders"

I MISS KURT

Well today would have been Kurt Cobain's 43rd(yes I said 43rd yikes I know)birthday.. I had to blog about this cause I still can remember how much his music meant to me, I really don't care if it meant anything to other people cause it meant a hell of alot to me at 15 years old and it still speaks to me at 30(yikes I know). That alone should make kurt wherever he is proud of his legacy, so screw all the naysayers...Kurt Rules...!!!!rest in sweet peace....and rock on!!!!

FEAR OF A BOY PLANET

Do men get it? To pharaphrase Simone de Beauvior: fist we must ask, what is man? Man is the appendage boy, the " x" factor, and the father spirit; he is the buddahafied beastie boy and the american gigolo; he is L.L. Cool J. and Will Smith; he is Kurt Cobain and James Dean, he is slick willie and Rambling Roger. He is Sugar Daddy and papa bear, Candy Man.He is a feminist and a misogynst, zeus and beezlebub, philander and monogamist, saint and sinner, anima and animus. He is a walking erection, a big spender, a lover, a husband, a partner, a child. He is all this and more, a heady package of myth and reality. Of good and bad that makes this luscious fuckable gender what they are.

Confusion abounds, "Manhood" needs to be redefined in a way that allows women equality and men pride. Our culture needs new ways to teach boys to be men. We could start our own girlie version of Network's battle cry. " I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore". Robert Bly, the iron jerk himself, seems to think that the second sex possess magical, mystical, albeit ultimately evil powers. Bly refers to women as a "force field" which depletes the male species of its Samson-like emotional and physical strength.

According to Simon Reynolds and Joy press in the Sex Revolts, Bly has this theory in which " a generation of young men-soft males have grown up confused and unhappy because women have sapped their energy and need a resurrection of male initiation rights to induct them completely into the instinctive male world. " This is exactly the Neanderthalesque mentality we must eradicate from the dialouges and behavior of men.

But all is not lost- there is some amazing progirl guys out there, boys who are smarter, better, than the average joe. These enlightened boys are crush-worthy, and more importantly, us worthy. When I think of my ideal guy(because there is no such thing as a perfect man): I think of what my father taught me: When boys are bad they need to be punished. They need to be taken to task for wrong doing. If a man hits you, report him. If a man is emotionally abusive toward you, leave him. If a man lies to you deal with him.It is our duty to challenge boys to be better human beings....

MEN ARE FROM URANUS

Men: alien species, genetic mutations animal,vegetable, mineral? The more I think about it, the less I seem to know. It's like a vast research project that I'll never finish. My brain teems with all the conflicting..my father, my brother, crush-worthy friends of the family, my supposed first boyfriend- the nasty, moody son of a Baptist minister-art fags, college buddies, men I hung out with in the goth/punk/new wave clubs I sometimes inhabitated, and all my male friends, foes, loves, acquaintances, past and present. I seem to have much unfinished business with men, and a need to figure them out. My nature is inquisitive, I just have to know and understand everything and men perplex me far more than women.

My friend told me an amusing quote she heard from a friend of a friend. This woman said, " men are like rubiks cubes, boring and frustrating, but you fuck with them anyway." We laughed. Most of the time I don't find them boring, sometimes very frustrating, but I fuck with them because I enjoy it. Sartre said that when we make assumptions about a whole group of people, when we say we know them, understand them, it is at that moment we stop truly precieving them. There was a time in my life that I let that happen. For a time I ceased to percieve men. Well I was sick of men I had endured enough damage and heartbreak at their hands, I used it as my ticket out of testosterone-land.

I now strive to view people as individuals, regardless of gender. Everyone is a mixed bag. Some men are evil and so are some women. People of both genders can be assholes and do rotten stuff. So I embarked on a rigorous research project. My subject: the other half of the species. Like a mad scientist, I'd get these rare flashes of brilliance, and feel so clever as I unearthed some likely hypothesis to explain them. It was at these moments that I became convinced I had them pegged: I knew what made them tick, I knew all the buttons to push, I knew how to turn them on and off, manipulate their self intrest, control them on the deftness of a seasoned dominatrix. I felt so smug and self-satisfied as I'd flex my bitch-goddess muscles.

I was just starting to sing" I know what boys like" at just about the moment I fell on my ass, knocked off my femme top pedestal by some maddeningly unpredictable behavior on the part of some man. Damn! Then I'd have to start all over again, feeling like some pathetic little slave girl who'd crawl on my hands and knees to worship at the secret shrine of black leather jackets, black jeans, combat boots, and sweat.

Their remoteness and ability to keep emotional distance confounds me and facinates me. I covet the cool, the edge, the detachment, and the icy silence that some men seem to possess, while I feel like a open book, some kind of transparency, with my heart on my sleeve. Anyway, I'll be continuing my, ahem, experiments. I'll probally never totally understand men, but I plan to have some fun gathering my research.

DON'T'S FOR BOYS

In the beginning...before we even get to the "relationship" stage, everyone goes through that akward should-we-or-shouldn't-we phase. The key to this stage is honesty.If you remain honest about your feelings, noone gets hurt. Remember, honesty is the best policy..So these are my key don't's for boys...

1. If you like me, ask me out. Were not in high school anymore.

2. If were on a first date, and it doesn't go well. Leave gracefully.

3. If we fuck on a first date, it doesn't mean I'm waiting on a engagement ring to appear on the second date.

4.Don't use being "drunk" as an excuse for kissing me. If you kiss me, drunk or not, you have a big kiss to deal with.

5. Call when you say your gonna call otherwise it's just rude.

6.Don't call me if you haven't gotten over your last girlfriend. I am not a understudy for a psycho-romantic drama.

7. Don't lie I'm a big girl. I can take it.

8. Don't tell my friends you think I'm kool and special unless you really mean it.

9.Don't screen my calls. It's weird, creepy, and lame.

10. Don't pretend to like me in order to fuck me.

11. Don't kiss and tell. But, because I know you will, you slob, do me the favor of not degrading me.

12. Don't be afraid of falling in love with me, you big baby....

EXILE IN GUYVILLE

" When Frued asked his classic question " What do women want?" he said it as though he thought it was some kind of top secret information that we chicks had, but just didn't feel like sharing. The problem is of course, that it is very difficult for us to know what we want. I mean, how could we? We are given so many conflicting messages about what is expected from us- what were supposed to look like(sexually agressive but sexually demure) what were supposed to do, and how often were supposed to do it.( a few fucks before marriage is okay as long as we really love the guy.)

When they say that women hit their sexual peak at thirty five, it's not hard to understand why. It takes us that long to figure out what the hell we want.

The message guys get is alot clearer. " I have a dick, therefore I fuck." is what most men are encouraged to believe. A male sex-advice columnist once remarked that " guys feel they have the right to whatever it is that gets them off," and it's true. Women on the other hand have a very hard time thinking this way. It's still the case that if you like having sex a lot, you're a whore, and if you don't, you're frigid.

To thing women are never encouraged to do is to focus on what actually makes us feel good....

SCOLIOSIS BOY: THE BOY WONDER

I went up to marylou's room. Looking up at the graffiti-covered shelf above her bed I wrote something scary about when the object of my affection, " Scoliosis boy", gets out of the hospital.

So what's to be done about my fatal attraction to Wonder Boy? He is still getting operated on. Maybe I'm in love with the idea of him. But I think he never loved the idea of me. I still like his squinty green eyes and his deep sort of voice, and his long unkempt brown hair...

This must be unfathomably boring to all of you. It's like a harlequin historical romance novel description, except scoliosis boy looks nothing like manly blonde warrior hero, roen, or Mysterious gaunt, dark-haired Delfonzo, the italian pirate.

I've had this stupid, stupid crush on Jason's friend for eight months now. And instead of replacing Wonder Boy, Jason just added reality to the whole sitiuation. I'm glad he did. I'm not expecting Jason to fall in love with me. But,Oh, how I miss my Scoliosis SweetTart..

I wasn't kidding when I told Jason and everyone that I like Boy Wonder. I like him: his crooked spine, his crooked teeth, his pale skin, his amazing sick, hilarious sense of humor. A humor exactly like mine except he's brilliant and a million times better at being funny.

The way he wonders around the room for no reason, his( pardon the adjective) manly nose and chin, his slacker philosophy,his profile, his faboulus ability to use profanity in a totally natural way. The way his voice softens when I oh-so infrequently talk with him.

I don't care about his teeth or his oily hair, or his tendency to drop things on the floor, then hit his head while reaching out to pick them up. I don't mind that some girls say he's a loser, whatever that means. Maybe he just won't ever care about me and my unrequited love for him.

Jason told me the latest news about Boy Wonder, he can bend over, walk and stretch and stuff. But he has to keep the metal rod in his spine til he stops growing.

Now my major question is: so what next, you idiot savant.( this is how I adress myself). Jason thinks I like him. I think I love my scoliosis buddy. I can't deal with Jason now. He's beautiful, but boring. I want my Scoliosis Boy, but he'll never be mine.But I can't be in love with him, because, believe me, that would scare him more than the decline anima in Western Civilization. This isn't what I had in mind, I didn't know I would fall head over hills in love with a comic book monger who has a severe case of scoliosis.

Oh, well, I'll get back to ranting later. To quote, another of my antiheroes: Death to the Weird.
In conclusion, I'm better off alone. At least until Monday...The Ominious End....