(no subject)
Men are absolutely, horrifically retarded 99% of the time, but I love them, which makes me...
Um...
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"I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints."
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The other night, met a beautiful man at the L lounge, for the first time in, oh, two, three...ah, but who's counting. And who has not been looking?
J, quite impressed by the man who actually got a response out of me, did her friendly duty by inquiring--unbidden by yours truly--after him with her ex-boyfriend.
Apparently, he's just another manwhore (a term so much more satisfying than "player"). A whore of the worst kind: a male one who has no qualms about chasing after his own friends' women.
Not that I would have acted upon my vague, purely visual impressions, but wish he had been a better man...because it just so happens that...he reminds me of another man I want to fall in love with.
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The shell I've carefully constructed around me to protect my all-important ego is falling apart bit by bit, as evidenced by my layers of material possessions that are hopelessly falling apart around me...I can't help it, I see the rather superstitious and psychic-friends-network'ish correlations between these two phenomena. As Y says, my stars just must not be aligned properly this month.
First it was my body. General sickness all around, starting with the worst food poisoning case in my life, followed by a bad knee, culminating in asthmatic coughing spells: at La Bohème last night, I felt very much at one with poor Mimi, coughing up her lungs and dying on stage, while I concentrated on timing my coughing spells to match those moments with the loudest harmonies.
Then my car took its time dying a slow, tortuous death, and on its death bed now, I am about to announce its official demise any day. Something burning and breaking and leaking inside the transmission. Not good. A new vehicle is in order. Maybe this one. For once wish I had a man who'd get excited about this kind of stuff, (which, I realize, is basically every man) by my side to go on test drives with, which perhaps explains my man-musings this long Sunday.
But that's not all! Last night, during the otherwise flawless dinner of Loup de Mer at Estiatorio Milos, my much-adored, much-searched-for platinum pendant fell soundlessly into my unsuspecting lap in a glittering heap, snapped in half for no apparent reason.
Ominous. Life reconstruction (reimaging? rebranding?) is perhaps in order, a higher command not within my control. Or at least it feels better to think that, as it lifts the responsibility off from my own shoulders.
Nothing like some good old-fashioned didacticism (truism?) for good measure with its requisite comforting qualities...(right...am from East Asia after all).
"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in seeing with new eyes."
-Marcel Proust
"The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware."
-Henry Miller