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2001-08-30 || 11:52 a.m. || goddamn finnish ladies and evil columnists || ow. oh. owwww. it is very strange to go out with someone who is a writer. who has music articles published all over the place, his name printed in black over and over again. who has a column in a local paper, a somewhat personal one, that you read on your breaks and at lunch time. it is kind of thrilling. and sometimes he writes about you- your valentine's day together, your trip to idaho. and you are mentioned in this first name way. and you cut those ones out and paste them in the back of your diary and feel very smug and comfortable that he is affirming you right there in public black and white newsprint. and it is strange when he has broken things off with you and you continue to read what he has written, now in this nervy way, in this knees-knocking way, in this stealthy stalker way. and it is strange to pick up the latest issue and open it up and read the kicker, in bold, in the middle of the page: something about getting off a plane to meet his mum and his auntie and this, ahem, 'unfamiliar cute 25-year old blonde in a jeans skirt and clunky black shoes.' and your heart sinks a little and you get very nervous and you get the car wreck feeling where you don't want to look but you have to. because you remember this time. when he left you- you drove him to the airport for chrissakes- to go home to visit his family and the exchange student that had stayed with his mother that he had never met. and you had made jokes about her probably being very hot and finnish and his mom wanting them to hook up. and you missed him very much and when he called you he allayed your fears. said she was way into ice cream and ccr. so you didn't worry. but reading this article you discover that she was 'cute.' and they stayed up late talking. and she is much more captivating than he had let on. and she wears jean skirts and clunky black shoes. and these evil mosquito thoughts dart around in your head: is that why he broke up with you? because he was hot for the finnish lady? because you, sitting at home in the east bay, are tired and boring and just not as cute? there's nothing to really keep him anymore so he has these wild thoughts about the finnish lady, lying in his childhood bed, very conscious that she is only a few doors away? did he want to kiss her? and you so much want to silence the buzzing, the wiggling under skin and leaving scabs and shredded parts, but they are small and persistent and have a way of answering all your fears in tiny vibratey voices. and you feel somehow betrayed, publicly, and you have evil thoughts about letters to the editor and letters to finland and letters to him, asking to please rewind back to when he had come home from that trip and promised she was nothing. just so you could break up with him right there because in his heart of hearts he thought she was cute and that really is nothing but oh man to see it printed on a page hurts very much. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |