I've just read an old blog entry from August last year, and I'm feeling righteous.
If I read one from last April (our last break up) I'd probably cry. So I won't.
I need to feel righteous because from what I can tell, Abel is falling into a sodden heap in her room, behind the locked door. Our domestic life consits of quiet exchanges of doors opening and closing. No talking, no looking, no crossing. Yuck. bottle of cognac went missing from my room, she misse dthe coop meeting last night, neighbours said she was trashed on firenday, I glimspsed her on thursday and she was shaking, smelling and late for school. I don't want to know. hope she pulls herself out of it.
so i'm going to hide here at uni till late, visit my neighbour to wathc SHAMELESS, go out for breakfast lunch and dinner tomorrow, go out all day wednesday, get a massage wednesdya night, mayb ein my dreams go out and chase girls on wednesday night, go see a counsellor on thursdya then cathc a train to bathurst and stay wiht my firend steve until sunday, and do lots of stuff on monday and then cathc a plane to mums on tuesday, and maybe in another 3 weeks I'll be even better at being numb and might even be able to do some work.
maybe she'll move out, and I can pretend that just like hiding her photos, tkaing donw our textanudes, taking off the necklace from her mum, I can pretend she doesn't. exist, nothing happened, nothing mattters, its over.
People have been amazing, and I've been a flakey selfish freak. I made a serious attempt with an old friend to plug the hole that's opened up inside of me, and picked someone as completely physically unlike Abel as possible. I can't be with a woman, not yet, they are too close to her, too close to too much nostalgia and loss. My ladylove hand has a rash to remind me. Her body is etched into my pores, her taste is in my tongue still...... I was scared that pole dancing would feel like a betrayal or a degradation. Instead it just felt kind of fun and strange and silly. It didn't plug the hole though, barely touched the sides. I keep eyeing off women - and I rekcon someone big blonde and buxom might just be exotic enough....... I dream on. Walking past the dykon cafe yesterday I didn't get any of the right looks. They could probably smell who I'd been with. Or maybe dykes are that bad, and short skirts don't work.
Feminism and the Institutions of Intimacy
1 week ago