All of last week, I found myself thinking about desire. Clearly, I was not alone in this as Charles wandered down a path not often taken (but when taken...hooh boy!), and another dear kindred spirit penned a blockbuster of a post about matters of the heart. What is about desire that makes even the puniest creature move mountains, and make even the most convivial heart weep bitter tears of regret? My own room these days resembles a makeshift shrine to Aphrodite: the mood lighting is always on, there is artwork by Mucha on the walls, and beribboned boxes of half-eaten chocolate languish ignored as I sigh and question the alleged iniquity of it all! It must have become evident to you by now, faithful, constant reader, that with this post I am breaking my promise about the silence I had decided to maintain pertaining to love (and other animals!). What's a host to do, really, when a guest tends to show up brazenly and uninvited to what is an intimate soirée?
Speaking of intimate soirées, I find myself spending a lot of time in Janice's plush salon. Primarily because mine is not fit for visitors as of now! No, seriously, I really enjoy whiling the hours away with Janice. There is something luminously child-like about her, after having extricated herself out of that particularly difficult situation of playing the prize to two battling swains, Janice found herself in the best company: her own. No one to answer to, no furtive texts announcing the outcomes of fortuitous battles, no weeping into the night...just a sense of tranquility. Yesterday, however, when I called on Janice, I found her to be a charged, giggly bundle of silliness. Nauseating phrase, isn't it? But it was just so cute! Oh Janice! Apparently there is another flirtation around the corner. I know the gentleman, and he is indeed a gentleman, but whatever happened to Janice's solitude? Am I overly cynical, or is this just a case of sour grapes in that I see Janice's love-life progressing smoothly, while mine seems to be a vinyl record stuck on the '...but only on my own' part of the song that I am living these days? But I could not help but get caught up in Janice's euphoria: it wasn't the repugnant girlie routine that one hears of these days: there was no creeping on his Facebook page, and no impromptu Taylor Swift musicales. We talked, instead, of possibility. It was rejuvenating to use conditionals and the hopeful sentences in the simple future tense, in a life whose grammar seems to written wholly in modalities. Yes, Janice is a solace. In her own way, she helps alleviate the topological stress that my mind creates by entangling itself into conundrums it created for its own pleasure, like a mathematician who founds an identity that seems simple at first, but then this very identity develops applications its creator never foresaw. What now, then? It helps if someone were to tell the mathematician that his work is done: that creating such an identity is achievement enough, and that he is not expected to save the world, his world, with this identity. Janice is the friend who has introduced me to Friendly Chaos: the kind of chaos that makes sure you enjoy the ride as things hurtle out of your control. And this is bad? I don't know any more.
Speaking of chaos, I found myself confronting a trembling T-Tweak: his eyes, crazed as if triggered by the beating of a tell-tale heart...which was what had happened in a way. Without giving too much away, I can only say that that night led to a lot of revelations, and not just about specific events or people, but about ourselves. I may have spent the longest two hours of my life in T-Tweak's room that night, as texts and people flew back and forth, and fates were sealed behind closed doors. God, I wish I could say more! There's so much more that can be said...
In the end it all boils down to desire. If you choose to see it this way: then what is love but the desire to be desired? To play the rôle of forbidden fruit to what was once forbidden to you? Is that all really? Are the Naturalists right? Are we all doomed never to rise above this...this need to be needed? Not only that, when in T-Tweak's room, I had this overwhelming desire to unburden my conscience and absolve myself. On the surface it may seem like a positive step, a step taken towards gaining the commemorative badge of Doing The Right Thing, but I felt filthy and selfish that I would want to place the weight of what I knew onto someone's already heavin shoulders. Oh desire! How you drive us mad! What shall become of us in the end? I find myself walking alone at night writing and scratching out endings about what would happen if my story were told. I know that Janice does the same. However, I also know that Janice's story will have a clear-cut ending, mine? Not so.
Speaking of clear-cut endings, I need to give this post one too. My concluding thoughts on desire? At this point, desire is equal to two-for-one milkshakes at an old-fashioned '50s style diner. At this point, I only desire to be amongst friends, and not on my own.
Until the next time,
GossipGuy.
