THE DUMBING DOWN OF LOVE
September 23rd 2007 16:44
I've finally finished one crazy week of assessment. Phew.
One good thing about living alone is that I get to walk around naked.
I went to a wedding the other night. Some guy actually recognised me as Always Eighteen. He said his favourite entry was the one about the monkeys. I said, I’ve never written about monkeys. He shrugged and walked away.
Apparently, the groom, before even dating the bride, asked her parents if he could court her. They were best friends for quite some time. He’d spend countless evenings at her house, eating their food. Sometimes she’d go to his house too. She’d also eat their food. He talked too much and she was the only girl who wanted to listen. She was down, and he came along and lifted her up. She had a boyfriend before they dated, but he waited, patiently. He wouldn’t settle for anyone else. A few weeks before their wedding, he told me that he couldn’t wait for the honeymoon, because they were saving themselves for each other.
What is the purpose of life? Is it to love God? Is it to love others? Is it to love ourselves?
I saw the bride and groom and couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. I once read something about how sex and pornography and lust ruin our perception of real love. It changes the way we see things. How we feel. The direction of our sympathy, the colour of the world around us. I shyly hid the hickey on my neck. When does one say “I Love You” during a blow job? When did a tongue on the b____ feel better than an actual kiss? Why do I know what a dirty sanchez is, or a creampie, or a bukkake, or a snowball? How desensitised have I become?
I looked at Jude sitting next to me. “Hey, like, don’t you ever wish you saved yourself, for, like, that special someone?”
He faced me and snickered. “Fuck that shit. Let’s get the fuck out of here, I’m drunk but everyone still looks fucking fat.”
He was the driver, so I came along with him. We drove to Vincent’s house. He had the whole collection of Paris Hilton’s pornos. We watched her boyfriend convince her to take off her panties as we drank our beer. Jude asked me to pass him the chips. Vincent told us about his day as Paris moaned in the background. He told us about this funny guy at work who couldn’t pronounce “feet” properly. He asked us if he should shave his legs, because chicks seem to like that nowadays. He asked us if he should pluck his nipple hair. Jude said a joke about Jews.
As Vincent talked and talked and as Paris bobbed up and down, I thought about the couple who got married. I’m not like them. I’m free. I’m not committed. I drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. The world is a speck of sand and this eternal universe, this mystery, this beautiful enigma, this space, it’s in my hands, my grasp. It rubs on the calluses of my palms and I can enclose it with my fingers whenever I want. Is that silly, silly, conservative groom and his right wing ideals of romance and purity in a better state of life, of happiness, of contentment, than I am? Of course not. I’m far better and more in touch with the world than he is. I’m an educated, liberal artist. My knowledge and cynicism makes me supreme and above everyone else. My world is one that is whole.
I’m an awful liar.
Paris’ boyfriend pushed her head back and told her that she’s a hot bitch. I walked to the toilet and unzipped my fly and peed on the rotting faeces that was smeared on the side of the bowl. I flushed the toilet and washed my hands and looked at the mirror. I fixed my hair. I forced myself to smile and checked my teeth. I tried not to think about the time I told Eva I was going to marry her. The red and green cordial. The drive up north. How things felt. She’s the past. And the past is forever away. I thought about Vail and the clinic. Next to the mirror, on the wall, were the words
Once it’s gone, it’s gone.
I muttered something, something hurtful that I no longer completely remember. I turned the light off and walked back to the boys. Jude had started with the powder. His face was blue from the television light. I wanted to tell him that I’m confused, that there are parts about me that can no longer be repaired. I wanted to leave, I really, really wanted to leave, but something in my heart kept me in that dim room.
One good thing about living alone is that I get to walk around naked.
I went to a wedding the other night. Some guy actually recognised me as Always Eighteen. He said his favourite entry was the one about the monkeys. I said, I’ve never written about monkeys. He shrugged and walked away.
Apparently, the groom, before even dating the bride, asked her parents if he could court her. They were best friends for quite some time. He’d spend countless evenings at her house, eating their food. Sometimes she’d go to his house too. She’d also eat their food. He talked too much and she was the only girl who wanted to listen. She was down, and he came along and lifted her up. She had a boyfriend before they dated, but he waited, patiently. He wouldn’t settle for anyone else. A few weeks before their wedding, he told me that he couldn’t wait for the honeymoon, because they were saving themselves for each other.
What is the purpose of life? Is it to love God? Is it to love others? Is it to love ourselves?
I saw the bride and groom and couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. I once read something about how sex and pornography and lust ruin our perception of real love. It changes the way we see things. How we feel. The direction of our sympathy, the colour of the world around us. I shyly hid the hickey on my neck. When does one say “I Love You” during a blow job? When did a tongue on the b____ feel better than an actual kiss? Why do I know what a dirty sanchez is, or a creampie, or a bukkake, or a snowball? How desensitised have I become?
I looked at Jude sitting next to me. “Hey, like, don’t you ever wish you saved yourself, for, like, that special someone?”
He faced me and snickered. “Fuck that shit. Let’s get the fuck out of here, I’m drunk but everyone still looks fucking fat.”
He was the driver, so I came along with him. We drove to Vincent’s house. He had the whole collection of Paris Hilton’s pornos. We watched her boyfriend convince her to take off her panties as we drank our beer. Jude asked me to pass him the chips. Vincent told us about his day as Paris moaned in the background. He told us about this funny guy at work who couldn’t pronounce “feet” properly. He asked us if he should shave his legs, because chicks seem to like that nowadays. He asked us if he should pluck his nipple hair. Jude said a joke about Jews.
As Vincent talked and talked and as Paris bobbed up and down, I thought about the couple who got married. I’m not like them. I’m free. I’m not committed. I drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. The world is a speck of sand and this eternal universe, this mystery, this beautiful enigma, this space, it’s in my hands, my grasp. It rubs on the calluses of my palms and I can enclose it with my fingers whenever I want. Is that silly, silly, conservative groom and his right wing ideals of romance and purity in a better state of life, of happiness, of contentment, than I am? Of course not. I’m far better and more in touch with the world than he is. I’m an educated, liberal artist. My knowledge and cynicism makes me supreme and above everyone else. My world is one that is whole.
I’m an awful liar.
Paris’ boyfriend pushed her head back and told her that she’s a hot bitch. I walked to the toilet and unzipped my fly and peed on the rotting faeces that was smeared on the side of the bowl. I flushed the toilet and washed my hands and looked at the mirror. I fixed my hair. I forced myself to smile and checked my teeth. I tried not to think about the time I told Eva I was going to marry her. The red and green cordial. The drive up north. How things felt. She’s the past. And the past is forever away. I thought about Vail and the clinic. Next to the mirror, on the wall, were the words
Once it’s gone, it’s gone.
I muttered something, something hurtful that I no longer completely remember. I turned the light off and walked back to the boys. Jude had started with the powder. His face was blue from the television light. I wanted to tell him that I’m confused, that there are parts about me that can no longer be repaired. I wanted to leave, I really, really wanted to leave, but something in my heart kept me in that dim room.
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Comment by Lilla
From The Home Front
Enviro Warrior
Dream Herald
Esoteric Bookshop
I am left wondering where you would have ended up, had you left ...?
Lilla ...
Comment by JoshZ
Have a read, it is alot like you are writing here. I get the feeling that you'll enjoy alot of what they currently have on their site.
JZ
Comment by Ash
Flashes of memories
Where you are free to be yourself... it`s a wonderful way to live...
hhhhmmmm such a difficult thing this... so many questions and thoughts - you have put them in a way I never could...
The things we see so clearly in hindsight....
I hope you are well Dean,
Ash
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
No, I haven't left. I had just been extremely busy with assignments and THINKING about writing the novel. Heh.
Hope all is good with the home schooling
Always
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
I just had a quick glimpse of the site. Looks interesting. I'll have a read of it now.
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Hahaha. Yes, I enjoy being naked. I've got to find a way to deal with the sweat marks.
Yes, there are a lot of things that have crossed my mind as of late, especially about sex and the way we deal with it. There is no one definition for it, no singular purpose.
Always
Comment by Lilla
From The Home Front
Enviro Warrior
Dream Herald
Esoteric Bookshop
you have misunderstood my comment, my friend. I meant, that after reading your (excuse me) brilliant piece ... I was left wondering how it would have ended, had you got up, left your friends (when you wanted to) ... and headed out into the night / downtown, on your own?
Lilla ...
Comment by Lara M
Love Speaks
Food Slate
p/s...hope you're keeping well, Dean.
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Oh, okay, sorry for the misinterpretation...
I ended up staying with them...
Always
Comment by KylieW
Celebrity Obsession
It is good to live alone. A piece of the world where you can do exactly what you want.....whatever it is.
This post was almost painful to read at times. It really makes me think of those times we all go through when you suddenly think 'is this all there is?" And are the people your with now the ones you're going to be with forever (scary thought sometimes..haha). I think we end up where we're meant to be. Some of us take the scenic route to get there....but we get there in the end.
Sorry, I'm just babbling now!!
Kylie
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
Yup I'm definitely fine
Always
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
"I think we end up where we're meant to be. Some of us take the scenic route to get there....but we get there in the end."
Thanks so much for this quote and your input. It'll be good to have a happy ending.
Comment by Michaelie
Flick Wit
Can I ask - how old you are really? What is the idea for your novel?
Michaelie
Comment by Cibbuano
Hunt Famous
Orble Post of the Day
Fat Cult
Techbreak
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
I'm as old as always eighteen
No really, I'm a boy.
The novel is about a lot of things. Youth, ambition, religion, sex: all the typical stuff, except, well, it's not typical. I've finished the manuscript and am hoping for the damn best.
Comment by Always Eighteen
Always Eighteen
I think they were dull original. Or maybe barbeque chicken. My memory is shy today, so I'll have to take a drunken gamble with original.