Tonight I was the door girl getting people to pay cover at my dad's show.
Middle aged women with brown hair and blonde hi lights, white capris, and long nails. No one under forty except for the bartender. She was a pretty brown-haired girl who sketched cars in between pouring drinks, and clearing tables. The only interesting thing about the night.
My dad played the song Pretty Woman, and it was my climactic sad moment. I heard the first few chords, and I thought, "This song always does me in." Sure enough, it did.
All I could think was, "I want a pretty woman, I am never going to find one, I am going to be lonely as fuck for the rest of my life. But at least I will have a kitten someday, and I will send letters to people. I hope Ryan doesn't become unlonely before I become unlonely because then I'll be too jealous of him to write."
I felt really sad. I am over that moment, but in many ways it lingers. It dyes the present a faded version of that feeling.
I made my dad listen to La Roux on the way home. One of the better parts of my weekend was coming across their music. There was an interview I watched from Europe where someone asked Elly about who she wants to kiss, or who wants to kiss her. She said she has never felt like she was the desirable one, or felt very sexy. That nobody she has ever liked wanted to kiss her, or felt the same way about her. Story of my life.
I remember I was watching one of her music videos on Friday, and my brother was beside me playing video games. I said, "She's so cool, I love her," in the way that you say when you love music and are excited about it.
My brother looked at my computer screen and said, "She's a dyke." Then went back to playing his game.
I keep thinking about how much I say here, and how much I allow people into my head. Therapeutic, I guess. Damaging, boring, and annoying, mostly. Creative and meaningful occasionally.
I am afraid that most of the time people don't understand me, and if I didn't write things somewhere like this, no one would understand me ever. Not that there needs to be a manual on how to know me, but I have a track record of unusual and antisocial behavior.
When I went to see Owen Pallett, I disappeared halfway through the show, and didn't tell anyone where I was going. I didn't take my cellphone or my coat, and went walking into the cold night because I kept thinking about cutting myself. I kept thinking about it, and thinking about it, and it made me sick to sit there and listen to song after song. I couldn't think about anything else but cutting myself even though the music was beautiful, and all I wanted to think about was the music.
It came off as a jerky awkward thing, especially when you are meeting one of your closest friend's boyfriends for the first time.
I had ten thousand things to say this Friday at the movies to people I haven't seen in so long. Ten thousand thoughts and anecdotes and experiences that I wanted to communicate. I couldn't do it. I hardly said anything. No one else really said much, but I felt like I was bursting with things to say and share. Projects I had worked on, things I'd overcome, even just general life things. No one opened up much about their lives, but I wanted to say something. I didn't say anything, so I said very little.
Every withdrawn moment has a story, and people don't understand the story because I never tell anyone about it. No one wants to know. No one asks, "oh hey why were you awkward that last time we hung out?" Most of the time its reasons so far removed from what's happening in the moment. Sometimes its a switch from feeling and interest in people or an activity, to sudden numbness and withdrawn behavior. I think this is normal for people in general though. Isn't it? To feel excited about something cool you are doing with people, start to do it, and then just fucking turn off? Become a body on autopilot that doesn't really feel. Stare blankly at objects, people, and surroundings without feeling anything, and try to think something that gets swallowed up in the blankness of your mind. You realize somehow that you shouldn't be around people when you are like this, and leave sooner than you would have liked to. This happens to me sometimes, and it probably happens to everyone. At least, I hope it does because then I would feel less weird and awkward.
So many run-on sentences I don't have the heart to correct.
Working on a new zine.
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