Monday, March 31, 2008
I missed this beginning because I'm trying to get through a book for tomorrow night's class. We'll be discussing Seinfeld and Philosophy. I am getting snippets of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche and a bunch of other philosophers whose names I cannot spell and am too lazy to look up, despite having just read Nietzsche's implicit argument about how you might live your life differently if you knew you were going to have to repeat the same life, over and over and over again, each moment the same. I read that and in the back of my mind, I was thinking about how great it would be to take a break and have some strawberry frozen yogurt.
But enough of that thinking crap, back to The Bachelor. The one on one date has taken them to the romantic rooftop of JC Penney's. She's romantically drinking a beer. Does every British guy look like Hugh Grant? Because he does sort of resemble a less wrinkly HG. Okay, one second, why does the black girl have faux gold glued to her hair part? Shayne gets the one on one date. She is so profound. She just said, "If you want to get to know me, you have to get to know me." He's telling Holly that he finds her extremely attractive. He wonders if they feel too comfortable. He's sweating. He wonders if there's any electricity between the two of them. She worries because her feelings are in it now since she's been there for two days. They made a delivery to the girl house of the sidewalk with their hand prints on it from the movie premier. The girls are peeing on it. They are so mad. Okay, now Holly and what's his name are in their bathing suits in the tub full of suds. Oh, gross, he has a lot of chest hair. It's floating on the top of the water. He has given her the rose. Oh, he just slid her across the tub to him. That's hot. I don't know if he's a good kisser. They make too many noises when they kiss.
I hate Shayne so so so so so so much.
Interesting email conversation about poetry with a friend today. I haven't read any poetry in a long time but then reread e.e. cummings "i like my body when it is with your body" as a result, and I wish I could write like that (except I wouldn't use the little "i"). I've written a total of four poems in my life and yet......could brag about winning the Academy of American Poetry Prize or something like that when I was at Penn State. But of course, I won't bring that up. That would be immodest. "Again and again and again."
Next group date: rugby aka football aka girls in short shorts. They are doing warm up exercises. Ashlee has put black eye make up on her face like a NFL player. They are rolling around on the ground and sparring. Here's spazzy Robin. She talks super super fast like she's on speed. Amanda with the hiccups is still my favorite. Shayne is talking about she needs to tan. Holly is going to let her use her fake spray tanner. If I were her, I would make the tan so orange that looked radioactive. Okay, now they are going to play a game. Ashlee is the last one picked. She is wearing fake eyelashes. They all are putting in their mouth guards. Does anyone have any idea what this game requires except for running around and toppling over? Their pants are falling off. Uh-oh, the black girl got hit in the mouth and is now hyperventilating. She needs help because she's bleeding a teeny tiny bit. And the game continues and it is colossally boring because they keep screaming and high-fiving and Marshanna is stuck underneath his armpit.
Okay, I missed an entire date because I was trying to come up with the best move ever in Scrabblicious. I am winning. I just managed to spell both "queer" and "gay" in the last two moves. Brilliant! Padhraig spells words you never heard of like "fraps." What the hell is that? A Starbucks coffee muffin combo? I don't think anything much happened anyway except some girl told him she likes it hard (the massage. Vulgar, vulgar girls).
I hope this date with Shainniie goes badly. She's wearing snow boots and a black dress and sunglasses. She sucks so bad. She has very little emotion in her voice and she looks at herself in the rear view mirror every five seconds in the car and she can't even do a British accent. Take those sunglasses off your head. She doesn't listen well. She can't listen. She's too distracted by the cameras everywhere, looking right at HER. Oh, her dad is Lorenzo Llama. WTF cares? That's the big reveal?? Her dad was on the show Renegade. He hasn't heard of him. She explains, Well, he's a really big name in America. Among whom? Her family? I just told Julie that he's like a guy who was on the Love Boat as a recurring character but not a real cast member. Danny looked her up and found out that she has been on General Hospital eighteen times. That's it. I have more hits on IMDB than she does. I will concede that I like that she isn't one of those girls who pretends like she likes him for no reason. Oh, dear, though she says "sawl" instead of "saw." Their date includes a gigantic bed on the floor in front of a fireplace. She said that her top five favorite things are shoes, watches, sunglasses, purses and herself. Those are her top five. He's holding her like she's a baby. I'm serious. He's cradling her. He really just wants to make out with her. He just thinks she's hot. He just said, "She has cast a spell on me." It's your penis. She has cast a spell on your penis. God, men suck sometimes. They are so predictable!
Last time to mingle with the girls before he has to kick three of them off. I wish they wouldn't scream every time he walks in. They are all kissing him on the mouth. Who is this Kristine person? Where did she come from? What's up with this girl Chelsea who has her boobs hanging out? She just forced herself on him. This girl with the dimples and the fake eyelashes is saying how she's one of the few girls who is, like, real, you know? Okay, Robin is going in to steal him away from what's her face. She still sounds like she's on speed. She wants him to kiss her, but instead, she is getting interrupted too. Robin is a bit driven. She has a rose. The other girls are ganging up on her. I don't like this girl Holly. She seems fake. She has a rose too and she has a single tear running down her face. He's a liar. He's telling every girl that he missed her and thought about her, but that cannot possibly be true...I will be so sad if he sends Amanda home (that's hiccup girl). I think he's going to send Jewel and Chelsea home and maybe Amy.
The Rose Ceremony: Holly, Shayne, and Robin are safe. The rest are in trouble. And three will be going home. Jewel has to know she's out.
First rose: Amanda!!!!!!! Thank GOD. I wonder when she will hiccup in front of him.
Second: Ashley. You're serious? Everyone hates Ashley.
Third: Kelly. That's Cameron Diaz.
Fourth: Chelsea. Really? I am so wrong this week.
Fifth: Noelle. That's the girl with the dimples. She thought she was going home.
Sixth and final rose: It'll be the black girl. Maraschino Cherry. I was correct.
Going home: Amy, and the tough looking girl Erin, the hot dog vendor. At least she's not crying. Amy didn't cry either. She's a nanny. Oh, whoops, she is crying and laughing at the same time. This older woman, Kristine, she is the oldest, she's 32, she looks like a grandma. I am not being ageist. At least no one is talking about their cats like that red head from last week. Will Marshanna please stop putting herself under his armpit?
Next week: Everyone hates Robin. He goes on a one on one date with the girl with the dimples or is that Amanda? They look a lot alike, honestly. Okay, that's it for now. Apologies to all of you who hate this portion of my blogging. BUT IT WILL NOT END UNTIL THE BACHELOR FALLS IN LOVE WITH ME.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Here we go, bitches...The Bachelor does have a perpetually rosy bloom to his cheeks and that lovely accent and the pretty boy lips. It looks like they're going to Vegas and stripping. Chris arrives dressed in a striped shirt that looks like a pajama top. It's also two sizes two big for him. Two roses up for grabs on these dates! Ladies...The date box has arrived. I think the host, Chris, has lost twenty-five pounds. He must not have liked his look in the latest issue of People magazine before the new show started filming.
The first group has to go the runway for a fashion show. I believe it's eight girls/twits and him. Jewel is drinking champagne and wondering when she's going to get to play her guitar for him. Erin H. is both excited and mortified to be able to strip for him (that's Ditta von Teese). This is stupid. This is how he says he's judging. "It's not about who is the hottest, who is the best model, but who really goes for it." That's what he just said. LIAR. Please, please, let someone fall down. They all have to wear short shorts. Kristine's hair looks like she did just jump out of an airplane. One girl moonwalked down the runway. Good, she's trying to stand out. Okay, but she did it too many times. One girl took her shirt off to reveal a gold lame bra. Real boobs, you guys. God, I would so fail at this. I can't walk in heels. I can't wear shorts. I certainly can't walk in heels and shorts. Michelle the redhead looks like a small man in drag. Oh, crap, she's going to sing too. Oh, dear, she thought this was American Idol and not London Idol. What a stupid date. Well, at least they get to go to a penthouse overlooking Hollywood. They're doing shots of champagne? They are all fake laughing. Moshawyn appears to have made this second dress that she's wearing. It's a gold sheet with a black Velcro strap over just one shoulder. He picked her because she has a glow over her and because she has a certain glow to her skin (he said that). Oh, crap, the redhead in drag. False eyelashes and false curls and one of the eyelashes appear to be falling off. Her face is way, way, way overdone. SHIT, she thinks she's in a Disney movie! She thinks she's Arabella or whoever the little mermaid is. Ariel? Here is the song she wrote (no lie): "I want to touch you, I want you to touch me. I want you to find me, and I want me to find you. I want to feel you and I want you to feel me. (This is horrid). I want to find you in (drawn out) front of me. With your penis out." Jewel has pretty hair and a cute laugh and her right boob is about to fall out. He's rubbing her knee. OMIGOD. He kissed her. They are kissing. She's cute. She said, "Matt's kiss was perfect. It was soft and..." Then he just left her and oh, he's giving her the first rose. She's giggling like Jewel as a schoolgirl, and they kissed again. HAHAHA to the rest of them. Wait. Now, she's being an asshole and waving the rose around and saying, "I got the rose, I got the rose, I got the rose." I liked her for about four seconds and now I don't like her because she's obnoxious and being a jerk and the black girl is having none of it.
(As an aside, I overheard two little girls playing UNO in the library today. One girl played her card and the other girl goes, "Tssk...You ugly." There's also a sign in the library that says, No cell phones, no ipods, no candy and no sunflower seeds).
Date two: Seven beautiful women in Las Vegas. How do these girls pack for this trip? Shayne, the porn actress who I believe is going to drop out of the show because he's not noticing her enough, thinks she really feels a connection. One of these girls looks like Cameron Diaz. Uh, I think he's wondering why he chose this woman in the multicolored shiny top. Everyone keeps saying, "Vegas, baby!" Robin is going to have a nervous breakdown in her green chiffon flowing dress. She's confessing that she can't gamble. This other girl has this horrible hair with way too much mousse in it. Cameron Diaz won the most chips. Her purse is ten times bigger than her baby doll dress. It's too bad that she hasn't done anything with her hair. She's quite drunk. And she just said to him, "I know, we have to go see all the other bitches now." The actress is saying to him, "Look at me, would I really be doing this in real life. Do you think that I am in a person who is waiting in the wings?" Everyone is in that position, he said. He sees that she's being bratty because doesn’t he realize who she is? Who her parents are? How many movies she hasn't made. He's pulling Chelsea aside she's saying that she loves to do things, and she does great things and it's hard to share them without nobody but yourself. I'm lonely. She just said. He's lying to her again. It's a two-way thing. It totally is. I'll warn you, I'm stubborn. He just got up and said, Okay, forget it. she's an idiot and her hair is terrible. Shut up Shayne, we understand that you were the girl on the beach in an Adam Sandler movie two years ago. Bye the way, stop chewing your gum so much. Okay, Robin is sitting on his lap while she attempts to play the piano. She is a hard ass. She has this horrible look on her face when she's talking to him one on one. This girl with the bad hair asks him what he's looking for in a partner. They all talk stupidly. This girl in the boots, the hot dog vendor, just kissed his fingers. Oh, God, why is he giving the rose to Chelsea, is it because of her cleavage? I can't stop talking about their chests because that's all I can see. Shayne is crying in the bathroom. Maybe she should stop chewing gum and wearing that scarf in the middle of summer. He gives the second rose to the girl with the bad hair. He thinks Chelsea is beautiful and uh...that's it, he said, but then why is he kissing Robin and why am I watching this show? Where is the girl I liked last week?
The cocktail party: Someone long ago once told Robin that she looks adorable when she sticks her tongue out when she laughs because she won't stop doing it. Oh, God, Marshanna is now wearing a mink blanket and a dress that she might have also made, actually, it's a very pretty grey dress. She's dancing with him on the patio and pressing her hips against him. He won't kiss her because all of the girls are staring at them through the window. He is a true Brit gent. Shayne is wearing a bow that is bigger than her brain. Oh, dear, Jesus, this girl is going to sing opera. She's going to sing. I am dying!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She's singing Summer Time, opera-style. And it makes her face completely twitchy. He has to sit there with this stiff smile on his face. He is talking to the huge bow...He is saying that he understands that she is an actor and that her family is full of actors. What he means to say is that she seems to be on the show because she wants to get another bit part. Why does the black girl have to dance like a black girl all up in his lap? And someone else is doing the pony. Terrible. I think he still likes the girl who gets the hiccups. I like her too. He really is totally hot.
The Second Rose Ceremony: How many seconds until Chris says that he will be making the toughest decision of his life? That one girl just hiccupped. She will win. Everyone else sucks. Ten roses and only nine girls! Wait...No, two of the girls are safe and ten will get to roses and three can go suck it. First rose goes to: Robin because she played the same song on the piano that Julie told me she learned in fifth grade lessons. Second: Holly: perky blond. Third rose: Erin S. She sounds like she smokes. Fourth: Amanda, will you accept this rose? 5th: Kim: That's Cameron Diaz. She's fun, but not that fun. 6th: Amy: Why? Bad roots. 7: Christine: Another no descript blonde. 8: Marshanna. She can't wait to make his tuxedo for the wedding. 9: Noelle. Shy girl. Haven't heard anything from her. She has done nothing obnoxious. 10: LAST ROSE!!!!!! My prediction is Ditta again. Ditto Ditta. Not the redhead. Omigod, he picked Shayne. WTF? "She says that he's killing her, he's killing her." It's the line she had in the Adam Sandler film.
Going home: opera singer (she's in church marketing), Ditta, and the redhead with her eyelashes falling off. Don't sing, that's the real lesson. She's going to go back and see her cat and hear her purr. She said that. Thanks for making all single girls look pathetic.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
They are giving him a standing ovation and yipping, actually yipping as he walks into the room. I guarantee that 75% will get wasted and do something stupid and then cry when they have to leave. There is definitely a fire hazard in this home as all of the lighting is by candlelight. Some girl just said, "What IS a crumpet?" I wish he would say, "Let me take you into the jacuzzi and I'll show you my crumpet. We don't circumcise in London, ladies. It's flakey!"
The pressure mounts as he must choose the first impression rose. This girl is challenging him to arm wrestling. He's funny, he just said, "I only arm wrestle women. Pregnant women." He thinks she's really fun. I think a girl shouldn't show off her biceps on the first date. The Bush administration lady is talking about how the people in London are so much more political than stupid blonds. WHAT! This girl just bit into a can of Pabst beer to prove that she could...do what?? Circumcise his jimmey with surgical precision? Now the mom of the house, the woman wearing a dress from the 1950s, is twirling her ass, not what a girl from the 50s would do. "I am a bit of a rock, paper, scissors person." Can't they think of something a little more interesting to say. Excuse me, the black woman is dressed like an Egyptian and has a diamond glued to her forehead. Oh, and Jewel is going to sing him the song she wrote. She brought her guitar and the way she is sitting on the chair, she is already showing her family jewels. Actual lyrics (sung like a cross between Jewel and Cher): "Pick me. Ohhh...My hands are small...I want the first impression rose because otherwise, I'm going to be homeless." Oh, Christ, they won't stop humiliating themselves. This girl is putting together her clarinet and talking about how the reed has to be wet in order to vibrate (I swear to God). She's playing "The White Cliffs of Dover!" (Not really. I wish). The rest of the sluts are gathering around to boo her.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Last week after the art extravaganza, Lisa Marie and I walked down 10th Street from Vine in the rain, hoping that maybe we could get the bus that supposedly runs down that way. We waited and walked. And walked to the next block and waited. And made it to South Street and waited. And then walked. And then suddenly, an hour and a half later, we were home! All on our own. No bus bothered us the entire time. The same thing happened on Friday--different street. I was meeting Kim at Market and 12th and decided I'd go down 7th and hop onto the bus whenever it arrived. Which it never did. What typically happens when a bus does actually show up is that it won't just be one--it'll be three in a row. SPACE THEM OUT! I mean, this is a very walkable city but it kind of sucks to have to walk everywhere, every time. Maybe I should buy those sneakers with the wheels and glide my way around.
Many birthday wishes this week. Julie's birthday was on Friday, and then Christi had a birthday party at her house and Padhraig's birthday is on Monday, so they should all be wished well and sung to, etc.
I have my next assignment for this freelance column. I am to write about crushes on strangers (such as coffee shop boy). The other idea I sent was the X Factor; keeping track of your exes and how it can be satisfying and/or devastating (satisfying if they're not doing well; devastating if you run across their wedding photos). She said I could write that one next. I think I'll call it the X Files...The mystery of why we need to know what's become of people we used to date and how that's even easier to do now with the Internet. In fact, one of the guys I pined for in college is now a friend on my Facebook page where I can look at photos of him and read about how he misses his girlfriend and generally observe him from far, far away in the most superficial ways. It's weird too how that energy doesn't just snuff out. I saw another ex recently (not Shawn) and it was still there; this thing and nothing will ever happen but why doesn't that attraction fade away? Can't you, like, grow out of it? I guess you just have to figure out how to renegotiate the dynamic. And not spend too, too much time reminiscing with the other person because one memory leads to another leads to another and before you know it, you're having this only slightly veiled conversation about the first time you had sex (sorry, mom. This is all hypothetical, really).
Is there any way that I can express how much I love Emma? She makes me laugh pretty much every time I see her because she is so fat and goofy and just all over the place and chirping the entire time. And she's so stumpy. If she were a person, she would be an adorable overweight girl who's only five feet tall.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
1. Anything to do with the Angela situation (friends will know what I mean. It's not as ominous as it sounds).
2. Anything that might upset a close friend, meaning, I don't tell other people's secrets or personal information, no matter how juicy or interesting. Go here to scratch that itch. I don't really tell my own secrets either, even though they would also be moderately intriguing/upsetting/another reason for my mother to worry about me.
3. Dreams. I don't often write about my dreams b/c there is really nothing less interesting than reading about someone else's fucked up subconscious night ramblings (unless, of course, the listener happens to be in it).
4. I do try to limit my discussions about the cats (see #3. Not really that interesting. I mean, they do cute things, but they do the same cute things every day and it's not like they're developing new skills or vocabulary. Mostly, they just crowd around and tip things over).
5. I should write more about politics, about the disgusting state of our supposed democracy. The rumblings now are that we are going to invade Iran. WTF? I get physically ill when I think about what we're doing. Sometimes, if I'm feeling really shitty about anything I might be dealing with, I have to put it into perspective. I am not being bombed in Iraq. I am not being raped by American soldiers. I am very very lucky.
6. My huge crush on Stephen Colbert. It's almost gotten out of hand. If you haven't ever seen this clip of him singing and dancing to "The King of Glory" (from Strangers with Candy), you really should.
7. Sex. I don't write about sex unless it's somewhat fictionalized, because family members frequently read my blog and I want them to think of me as pure as the driven snow, which, of course, I am. Except when...But that would betray rule #2. See? I promised to be vague.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
1. Nurse. However, after finishing Atonement last night, I would prefer to be a nurse in London during World War I. I'd like to wear the tri-corner hats and stiff white uniforms and squeaky, sensible shoes. Drawback: blood and death. I don't think I'm squeamish about blood, but I don't know for sure. I've never faced anything more graphic than a nosebleed. Still, I like the idea of being able to fix people and am somewhat fascinated by being that close to the body in all of its weakness. I was a candy striper in high school, but the most I ever got to do was carry phlegm to the lab (totally gross).
2. Seeing-eye-dog trainer. Drawback: What if I get attached to one of the dogs? Or every single one?
3. Folk singer/guitarist. I'd start wearing patchwork skirts and growing my hair long. I'd write my own lyrics, most of which would probably concern cats. Drawback: Can't sing, plus don't really like to be too earnest.
4. Employee at Foot Locker. Can you imagine what it's like to wake up and go, I wonder if my black and white striped shirt is clean? Where's my whistle? Drawback: Not the greatest at customer service.
5. Homicide detective. Yes, yes, this is what I really want to be! And I would like my partner to be that Elliot guy from Law and Order. I believe I would be excellent at solving crimes. Alls you gotta do is assume that the most seemingly innocent person is really guilty. That's what happens in every episode of L and O. Drawback: Probably requires lots of training. As an aside, I overheard the cute coffee shop boy said something funny yesterday. They were talking about the NY mayor's prostitution scandal and he said, I can't wait until they make this into a Law and Order episode.
6. Forensic expert. Very interesting, but for drawback, see above.
7. Navy Seal. Drawback: Having to pretend that you like the government.
8. Stripper at a Crummy Neighborhood Nightclub on Columbus Avenue. Sure, why not? I have great tits and am pretty perky and friendly. It seems like easy $. Drawbacks: I am not as young as I used to be and so would probably only be able to get a Tuesday night shift. I do not have pole dancing training. It would probably make me hate men. I would likely become a speed addict.
9.Migrant farm worker. Drawback: Aside from roguing, I have no picking experience.
10. Hippie. Could start wearing tie-dye, smoking tons of dope, and wearing small spectacles. Drawback: Paycheck?
11. Staunch neo-conservative Republican Christian. Drawback: Seriously?
12. Marine biologist. Oh, yes, I would like to study the life of manatees. I would like to think that a daily perspective of the undersea world would help me to understand life on land better. I would learn to appreciate starfish. Drawback: I get sea sick and have a fear of drowning.
13. Performance artist. This would help me fulfill my desire to be noticed and enhance my creativity. Drawback: It seems kind of weird (no offense, LM).
14. Ice Sculpturist. Drawback: Ice makes my teeth hurt.
15. Roadie for the Dave Matthews Band. Drawback: I hate the Dave Matthews Band.
That's it. That's all I can come up with at this time. I could make a choice that would change my life, couldn't I? I could become an activist or a professional foster parent or a sex columnist and my life would go down an entirely different path.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Scene: A generic hotel room. JoAnne is still wearing her interview clothes, but has taken off her shoes and jacket. Knock on the door. She answers.
Darren: (hands her a plant). For you. How did it go?
JoAnne: What are you doing here?
Darren: This place is decent, right? In a David Lynch sort of way. Not terrible. Well, kind of terrible.
JoAnne: Did you drive all this way?
Darren: Don’t you like the fern?
JoAnne: No, it’s great, though I kill all plants.
Darren: I know. It’s fake.
JoAnne: Really? Very believable fakeness. Good job.
Darren: How did the interview go?
JoAnne: I think I may have a new boyfriend. Todd is his name. You’d like him. He’s an only child.
Darren: What did he do? Ask for your phone number? That’s pretty standard procedure for a job interview.
JoAnne: Let’s see…He told me I was pretty, he took my picture, he offered me a shot of whiskey, he tried to persuade me to swoon backwards into his arms. What else? He asked me if I was in love.
Darren: Well, you never know with these things. You still might get a job offer.
JoAnne: Oh, I got the job. I just don’t want it.
JoAnne: I don’t think my day job should carry the risk of date rape. I have enough time focusing as it is.
Darren: Is there a funny smell in here? Like something died?
JoAnne: That’s probably me. You’re smelling the death of my girlhood dreams of becoming an A-one marketing assistant.
Darren: Come over here.
Darren: You’re tense. Come sit by me. (She does, reluctantly. He starts rubbing her shoulders, sniffs her neck). Mm, no, you smell good. Not like death at all. (Kisses her neck).
Let’s make love.
JoAnne: (she moves away) Oh, gross, God, you know, I hate that phrase.
Darren: Making love?
JoAnne: Ick—stop. It’s too corny. I feel like you’re going to pull out a guitar and start singing an Air Supply song and then, I don’t know, suggest we go run naked through a field of daisies.
Darren: Let’s fuck, then, how about that? Is that better? If we just fuck? We don’t even have to kiss on the mouth. I know you think that’s corny too.
JoAnne: Not true. It’s just…. It’s something about the way you approach kissing.
Darren: My approach?
JoAnne: It’s like you’re auditioning for a role or something. Like the director has told you to be sensitive and sweet and to make sure your right profile faces the audience because your nose looks smaller that way.
Darren: Gee, thanks.
JoAnne: Like you’re choosing from your repertoire of past kiss performances. Should it be a Tennessee Williams kiss, or a Neil Simon kiss, or a Kiss of the Spider Woman kiss?
Darren: Let’s talk about the way you kiss.
JoAnne: I kiss fine. I’ve won Girl Scout badges for my kissing.
Darren: You kiss impatiently.
JoAnne: That doesn’t make sense.
Darren: You kiss like it’s something you have to do just to get to the next moment and the next and the next. Kiss for two minutes and then you grab my cock and then I take off your shirt and then you unzip my jeans and then we get naked and we make love—sorry, and then we fuck.
Darren: So excuse me if I like to actually take my time and not rush into it. If I wanted cheap, meaningless, wham-bam, cum by the numbers hot and fast sex, I’d cruise the streets.
JoAnne: You would?
Darren: Sure, why not? I mean, no, I wouldn’t go to a prostitute, I’m just saying that sometimes, that’s what it feels like with you.
JoAnne: I make you feel like you’re with a hooker?
Darren: Well, yes, not a hooker, but someone who is so focused on the endpoint that…And I’m not saying I don’t enjoy it. I mean I like it that way sometimes.
JoAnne: You’re turning me on.
Darren: But it’s not like I want the same thing every time. A little variety would be nice. I’d like to be in charge sometimes too, you know? I want to be the one who throws you on the bed and tells you what to do next and how to do it and stops your hand or your mouth if you try to go too fast.
JoAnne: I’m serious. I like it when you take charge.
Darren: (flattered) Really? You want me to add some DeNiro? Talk like a street tough and push you around?
JoAnne: Okay, yes. I like it when you’re hard. (Moves forward to touch him.)
Darren: Wait, wait, hold on a second. We were having an important discussion here (She reaches for him again). Quit trying to seduce me!
JoAnne: Want to role-play? We’re in a cheap motel. I’m worried about even sitting on this bed for fear of contracting a venereal disease, but let’s take advantage of it.
Darren: Can we—can we just figure out a way to meet in the middle? Like somewhere between too slow and too fast?
JoAnne: (she climbs onto the center of the bed) Meet me in the middle of this crusty bedspread.
Darren: That’s not what I mean.
JoAnne: Okay, show me what you mean. (Reaches for his zipper.)
Darren: (stops her hand) No. Not like that.
JoAnne: Like what then?
Darren: Like this (grabs her roughly, kisses her theatrically, bending her backwards).
JoAnne: Wow. What play was that from?
JoAnne: I knew it! I could tell that you were channeling Kowalski by the way your arm muscle flexed when you grabbed me.
Darren: I wish you wouldn’t always make a joke of everything.
JoAnne: I wish you wouldn’t always make an Act II, Scene I of everything.
Darren: You just said you wanted to role-play.
JoAnne: Role-play, not rehearse.
Darren: What am I doing wrong?
JoAnne: Nothing. Nothing. It’s nothing. Maybe I’m still weirded out by the interview.
Darren: You should just take the job.
Darren: I’m just saying. We—you could use the money.
JoAnne: I’ve been unemployed for exactly two weeks. Give me a tiny bit of space before I have to start turning tricks.
Darren: Or sue your old job.
JoAnne: The law firm? With what massive bank roll? And anyway, I can’t sue them. I was an “at will” employee. Sometimes, the bad guys win.
Darren: No, there are always karmic retributions.
JoAnne: I don’t believe in karma. I was raised Catholic. I believe in meaningless lessons about saints and the sanctity of the Virgin Mary. What about kids who have cancer? What’s the karmic reason for that? Or child abuse? Was the person, like, so horrible in a former life that she came back as a sick child who gets molested by her chemotherapist?
Darren: You’re confusing karma with Shirley McClaine.
JoAnne: Suddenly, I don’t feel so sexy anymore. Which is strange because kids and cancer and religion are usually a huge turn on.
Darren: What just happened here?
JoAnne: I had a bad day! I had this ridiculous interview, which, in case you didn’t know, I was kind of excited about and then the guy turns out to be a complete freak, and then I come back to this crappy Days Inn and you pop up out of nowhere with your plastic ficus—
Darren: It’s a fern! And excuse me for wanting to do something nice for you.
JoAnne: And are we very much in love? That was one of my interview questions, by the way. If I was deeply in love with my pretend fiancé. Would you say that I’m the love of your life? Or even in the top ten?
Darren: This doesn’t sound like you.
JoAnne: I know, but, I mean, we’ve never said it. It’s been six months. Shouldn’t we have—
Darren: I have said it to you.
JoAnne: You have?
JoAnne: Oh, God, I’m sorry. I must have thought you were joking. (Pause.) What did I say back?
Darren: Do you want your exact quote?
JoAnne: Maybe not.
Darren: You said, “Thanks, I think of you fondly.”
JoAnne: Why are you still with me?
Darren: I really can’t say. It’s probably my masochistic streak. Do you still only think of me fondly? Even when I have driven all this way and offered you my sexual services to distract you from your horrible, godless existence? Even when I am one of the best actors you know and you secretly possibly like it when I put on Stanley Kowalski to seduce you?
JoAnne: I like it better when you’re that guy from the King and I.
Darren: I will go shave my head right now.
JoAnne: Please don’t. Please don’t be an actor anymore today. Maybe we should break up.
Darren: Is that really what you want?
JoAnne: I don’t know what I want. I want to start over. I want to be the person I used to be who went to Catholic school and believed everything they told me and thought it would all turn out okay.
Darren: Should I whisper the Hail Mary in your ear? Would that be arousing?
Darren: We are not breaking up. I forbid it. I am going to force you to realize that I am the best thing that ever happened to you. Better than Jesus.
JoAnne: But can you walk on water?
Darren: And I am going to make you stop talking now.
JoAnne: What miracle will that take?
Darren: (pulling her shirt out of her skirt) Hail Mary, full of grace—
JoAnne: Don’t be sacrilegious.
Darren: But you don’t believe in any of that, right? So it shouldn’t matter.
JoAnne: I know, but still—
Darren: The Lord is with me.
JoAnne: I don’t like you anymore.
Darren: Yes, you do. You like me against your will. You don’t want to like me because I’m nice to you and you don’t think I should be, so too bad. Deal with it.
JoAnne: I love being psychoanalyzed before sex.
Darren: (undoes a button of her blouse with each sentence) This is not sex. This is not making love. This is not fucking. This is praying.
JoAnne: I don’t pray anymore.
Darren: You pray today. And you kiss on the mouth. (He kisses her.) And you stop thinking and evaluating and you listen to me now and you do what I say.
JoAnne: I do?
Darren: Yes, you do. Blessed art thou among women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb. (Kisses her stomach.)
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Sunday, March 2, 2008
"...Briony knew her only reasonable choice then would be to run away, to live under hedges, eat berries and speak to no one, and be found by a bearded woodsman one winter's dawn, curled up at the base of a giant oak, beautiful and dead, and barefoot or perhaps wearing the ballet pumps with the pink ribbon straps..."
Well, maybe not all thirteen year old girls, but thirteen year old girls who write stories including white horses, rustling velvet dresses, and beautiful, tortured characters who eventually either find there way toward each other or are split apart and die of broken hearts and loneliness.
I read somewhere recently that the book ends with a surprise "reveal," that the person telling the story is someone surprising but my guess is that Briony is the one telling the story years later. It makes the most sense, and would be part of her "atonement" for destroying lives (I haven't yet found out what she does, but it splits the family and causes the requisite unattainable love affair between Cecilia and Robbie. Just quickly: why "Robbie?" It's such a little boy name. Why not Tristan or Caleba or some other more romantic names?). Don't tell me if I'm right or wrong about the narrator though. I suppose after I finish, I'll have to get Amsterdam too.