Monday, May 21, 2007
This is the most craziest shit ever.
Or so said a certain G. Stefani. I kinda sorta want tickets to her concert, but can't possibly justify the expense for such a silly little guilty pleasure.
Yep, I know I've been bad about posting. Partly it's because I couldn't sign into Blogger for the longest time because I was confused about the switch to Google. My brain just wasn't big enough to take it all in. But mainly I've just been constantly working, like a little lemming scrambling for the hills.
Last night I had the strangest dream.
I was in a cloudy room somewhere with the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She was a strange combination of Claire, plus this girl I met recently, plus just about every classy pin-up fantasy I can remember having, plus a few fantasies my brain seems to have come up with all on its own, right at that moment.
She had the most amazing red hair and beautiful skin. Her back was covered in the strangest golden tattoos, like an old map of the bottom of the ocean. Some of the images were bubbles floating to the surface, others looked like delicate crystal chandeliers, all in this impossibly shiny, almost translucent golden colour. I ran my fingers over them and she let me, turning her head around to look at me, and I felt the smallest tremor of surprise when I kissed her. Everything with her was like opening a present, which was why I thought she couldn't possibly be Claire because none of this would have been new for her.
Sex with this girl was heart-pounding, but also kind of beautiful, measured, and surprising. I kept waiting for her reactions, and she continued to respond with the strangest little shivers of pleasure. Her laughter was like a bird just released from its cage. I was infinitely more concerned with her pleasure than mine.
There were drugs, some kind of hallucinogens, which would explain the strange texture of it all. But in the dream I didn't take any. I was having a pretty spectacular time without them.
And then, apparently, we went grocery shopping. What a lesbian chiche. But this was a strange supermarket in which spies were everywhere. Like I said, there were drugs.
I woke up craving French toast, and desperate to find this girl. I know she only exists in my mind, and yet....I was sure I saw her, on the bus coming home, in my memories of Claire, somewhere, but just slightly out of reach.
So, I met an actual girl last weekend. I've been talking to her for a while, but I have to say we have just about nothing in common. She didn't really impress me in person either, although I sort of found I felt a lingering affection for her as the day wore on. She's a little faux-punk rebel type, an Avril Lavigne reincarnation, a girly tomboy. She's into hockey, and shoots a pellet gun that apparently is an exact replica of a real handgun. I didn't much care, but I played along. There wasn't much of an emotional, intellectual, or even a physical connection between us. She talked about herself a lot. I had basically agreed to meet her hoping for some fun, but it turns out she actually likes me. Oops.
For the time being I am quite happy just being me, in my little apartment, rollerblading to work when the weather's nice, sleeping alone, going out with friends, planning trips, pushing a few boundaries here and there.
But if a little bird were to waltz into my life, well, I wouldn't say no.