March 29, 2006
decompression
Mirrors are tasteless, symmetry with no sense of personal space. I have no personal space. This is crass, reflective surface. Thirty pounds of sweat pours off me, racing to all corners of this town, looking for my concept of personal space. Come home with a few more zip-up hoodies. Run for cover. Oh God I need to move out. I need to move out. I’m heavy-hit built for loneliness behind large sunglasses; being around anyone for even a bit too long and I’m internally exhausted. I love people, I love people so much that I hang on their every word, but my psyche is ridiculous in its need for relative distance and air. You know binge drinking? The concept directly applies to my preference for human interaction. Two days on, two days off. Or whatever works. I need time to process people. I'm too sensitive to their actual energies, if you know what I mean. Seriously. It hits hard. Take it all in, puke it all out (usually by writing it all down, ALONE. Yeah, all caps: HEY.) Hey, I never had siblings, parents' one and only. My profile’s easy: Elton John was an only child, so was Jesus Christ (technically, as in: "the only Son of God." Would Sartre have been a purer example in this case? Oh God I'm going to hell). Please take from that what you will, and build upon it--large, spanning vistas on the Serengeti. Prissy umbrellas as protection from the sun. I taught myself how to be a child. Anyway, Missy Elliot, get ready to save my life. Many thanks.
Oh, and thanks, Vice. This is actually pretty spot on: Still though, it is a good day for me: I defied authority, I didn’t spend any money on food, and I puked. Exactly. Memory lane of hell. I sought help when I reached the equivalent of "day six" (two years in). Oh, survival. I'm much appreciating you again, Vice. The comments are intense. And comfortingly fucked up. To this person:
Subject: hot chick
Date: Mar 28 2006 05:09:14 PM
Author: art
what's the best way to induce vomiting? i suck at it
All I can say is, after a while, puking becomes so easy that it's literally the only thing you can do. Missy Elliot, please save the children. (NB, yes, above photo of me at age uno. haha, yeah. I still do that. totally.)
Posted by caroline at March 29, 2006 12:56 AMOMG, the bulimia article comments are so fucked-up, it's hilarious. Somebody needs to mock them all over the internet. Can No One Spell Any More?????
From one only child to another -- there ain't nuttin' wrong wid hiding in your corner.
And I ADORE the sci-fi/Hitchockian angles and contrasty shadows in the photo. Very Eastern European nightmare childhood of my memories. And of course Bob is exposing her right breast; that's why I call her Boob. Good old exhibitionist Bob. Are you compensating with the hoodies now?
Hey, got any of those child abuse pics we used to laugh over? Or perhaps an extended expose of the Polish alphabet books?
So today, I flirted with a very nice priest. What is it with me and priests? What is it with me and middle-aged, celibate but otherwise gay catamites? Vice needs to do a feature about that.
I am compensating with the hoodies and with my pet rock. Because, you know, Bob has "problems," in utero. Also, I'm a big wimp, which means I get cold really easily. Baby steps.
Unfortunately, all the Polish Abuse photos are with the parents in Calgary. How would I even ask for them? "Hi, Mom, could you send me those photos where it clearly looks like I've been sexually and physically abused from the ages of three to fifteen?" I'm not sure how I'd go about that, exactly.
I too have a priest fetish. Or at least I used to. Most of which was expressed in bio class, when we were mating flies in Petri dishes. If I recall, all our flies escaped because we weren't paying attention and we "borrowed the results" from Lindsay, because she's much better at monitoring the finer workings of insect copulation. I also remember trying to grab the flies by the wings and get them back into the Petri dish before going to Lindsay for help. Moral of the story is, we probably should have taken bio class a bit more seriously. We were also separated by teacher of said class a few times, if you recall. Serotonin was just too funny, at the time.
Anyway, white wine cheers.
ps,
I AM THE EASTERN EUROPEAN NIGHTMARE OF YOUR CHILDHOOD (memory of). :)
Posted by: caroline at March 30, 2006 2:36 PMNo, no, the BEST way to get your mom to send those to you is by first addressing her as "Demon Spawn." That's sure to butter her up.
An 11% cheers right back atcha.