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

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Chicks dig the codfather. That one's for you Fumoffu, that one's for you.

After yesterday I don't think I'm ever going to drink again, at least not hard liquor. No, I didn't get wasted or have a chat with the porcelain god or even pee my pants in a Costco parking lot (not that I'd have to be drunk to do the last one.) It was the first time I've had drinks on consecutive days and while I cut myself off after about 2 shots of Pisco I realized that I definitely have the potential to become an alcoholic. I also didn't like what it did to my mind. We were trying to write an outline for a short movie and I felt myself getting duller and slower. I know that small amounts of alcohol on a regular basis are supposed to improve brain function, but I'm pretty comfortable with my brain function. That's not the function of mine that people complain about. I may take to drinking a glass of wine with dinner or some such to try and garner the benefits, but my drinking days have to end before they begin. I already have a lifelong struggle with food, I don't need to add coconut rum flavored troubles to that.

Alcohol isn't what I really want to talk about at the moment though. I want to talk about my mean streak. It's a deep-seated and very real part of me, but it's a part that's been dormant for awhile and seems to be starting to emerge again. I've been called sweet a number of times over the past few weeks and I'd say that it's an accurate representation of one of my personas. There is another one though. Another that isn't sweet at all. (I'd like to note here that I don't mean to imply insincerity or falsity by the use of the term persona. I think we all have different facets of our basic personality that come through at different times. When people say "I've never seen this side of you" there's often the implication that this is the REAL you and the nicer/more likable person they knew before was just a mask. I don't think that's accurate. It's possible and completely legitimate to have aspects of your personality that lie dormant for long periods of time and other parts that you aren't necessarily comfortable with and repress not out of a desire to be dishonest but out of a desire to be, well, nice and sweet.)

I'm not sure why this has been coming out recently. I often have theories on my mood switches. The best guess I can make is that I feel impotent and drained for having to work for someone else, someone who is a great guy but can be a bit demanding, and because I'm feeling a little lonely and like I don't have quite the reserve of sweetness to give that I might like. Regardless, I have been feeling mean. I snapped at poor rpeate because I was dissatisfied with his knowledge of the language of cinema, which is kind of like yelling at someone because they don't speak French as well as you'd like, and I've had to pull back a few other nasty comments I've wanted to make on Livejournal. I wanted to write an entry pointing out that women who respond to "Creepy guys can't get girlfriends" with "Not so! I LOVE creepy guys" are being quite insensitive because the claim that creepy guys don't get girls is a thin disguise for the claim "I don't get girls because they can't see past my social awkwardness rather than because I am unworthy of their attentions." This means that the statement "No way, I love creepy guys" translates to "Nah, creepy guys gets load of chicks. It's really just you who doesn't.'re just spectacularly unattractive. There are at least three species of cod I'd consider dating before you. One of them carries the herpes virus. I'd rather have sex with a cod with herpes than touch you. For serious. A cod. And I hate fish."

I know they're well-meaning. What they intend to say is "Don't give up, there's hope out there for you. You'll find a girl who will appreciate your many wonderful qualities. But she won't be me. Oh god no. I'm going to be at Sea world. That's where the cod lives you see."

That's one of the reasons I don't WANT a relationship is because of this mean streak, which is not entirely controllable. I don't like being around other people all the time and I often need my space for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. I don't want to be beholden to someone else or responsible for their feelings. There are other elements at play too, of course, including the related issue of a thread of sadism in my sexuality that I haven't and probably won't get into here since this is a forum open to people I know and that's not the sort of thing one discusses in polite society. Really I recognized how good it is for me to be flying solo yesterday when I went to my friend's and we went to a bar to watch the debate at his girlfriend's urging. There were a lot of hip young sheep morons there cheering whatever Kerry said blindly, drinking, and all dressed in a way that told you this was about hooking up with other liberals not understanding policy or prognosticating elections. I left after 20 minutes but he was forced to stay with his woman for about 30-40 more. I couldn't deal with something like that. Just being in there made my skin itch and I had an overwhelming temptation to cheer for Bush just to fuck with their empty heads. I left before I did so and they tore me to pieces.

I guess the messages I'm trying to get across here are

A) If I'm mean to you it's nothing you did it's just a side of me manifesting itself and I probably should apologize but I won't because I'm tired of being called sweet and nice, I'm in a New York frame of mind and I want to tell all the rubes to shove it up their bumpkin asses.

B) I don't really want pity or sympathy. I write things that I think are interesting and since I've learned that well balanced and accurate is the enemy of interesting I know that there are half-truths and logical flaws in some of the things I write but it's impossible to do it any other way and still have it be worthwhile writing. I think I have a lot to say about loneliness and alienation from women, and I think I can say it well. That doesn't mean I'm all torn up inside about not having someone to snuggle with at night's end. I'll always have Frank's Jersey voice and the warmth of a nice glass of scotch. Okay maybe not the latter. I'll probably pour the rest of the bottle in the river. Fish don't do well with alcohol. Maybe it'll take out some of those cockblocking cod.
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