Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters

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He's coming on a Chinese Bus, he'll rob me blind and I will make a fuss

fakingsincerity is on his way to this great city (assuming there's still room on the fabled Fung Wah bus line), and he's going to crash with me. Those of you who know me well know that I'm not one to invite people into my home lightly. I worry about theft, I worry about pootential violence, and most of all I worry about a combination of personal friction and having my stuff messed with. As an only child, I'm used to and comfortable with neither. But I'm trying to be more open to new experiences and new people so I'm going to go ahead and do this. If you hear of a fat New Yorker stabbed to death with a ski pole then you'll know who it is. I'm trying to think of things to do, exciting things that don't cost a lot of money. We'll probably hit Bryant Park and the Bronx Zoo, maybe a free concert or something. This is all very last minute, I'm working overtime to lower my defenses and let it happen.

It's getting hot in the city. I'm a little better at dealing with it now that I've lost some weight but it's still uncomfortable. I'm feeling better mentally but I still can't write like I'd like to. I have ideas but they aren't coming out right, it's all thick and coagulated, it comes out in misshapen glops onto the paper. It's frustrating. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be anything but sub-mediocre. It's a very depressing proposition. What else do I have to look forward to? My future's so dim I have to wear night-vision goggles. I don't even feel like a college graduate anymore. I feel like I haven't done anything at all since high school, and that I'm stagnating here. It sucks. I'm 22 years old and I'm going down to pick up a young man I met on the internet from Vermont at a bus station. I don't know what the most depressing part of that statement is. Man, internet, or Vermont. I should be picking up pretty young Czech girls and attempting to take advantge of them during the early morning hours. (Not that he's not pretty, that's for sure. If you're in to men he's a very pretty boy.)

There was a young (not young as in illegal, but a year or two younger than I was) Czech girl I might have had a shot with a few years back in school. She was blonde and perky, but not in an annoying way, in an uplifting sweet way. I think she enjoyed spending time with me and we used to study together and one night we were working and she pressed her leg against mine but I couldn't tell if it was intentional or not so I didn't react. Those are the things you regret later on, not in an intense way but in a light "what might have been" sort of way. Of course if I had hit on her and she had gotten upset and offended and wondered what she could have done to lead her fat study partner on, that would have been a regret too. At least this way all the memories are sweet.

I don't announce my weight on this journal and I'm not sure why. I'm not afraid of stating it, but I feel like it's not relevant and people would respect me less (not that I'm getting a ton of respect as it is.) I've slowly let more information out over time, and now I'm meeting a journaler for the first time at a bus stop in Chinatown, my true colors and pants size on display to the world.

I think Czech women are the best of the European lot. They come from a culture that's sophisticated but not arrogant. Let's hear it for the Czech girls.

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