giovanni's room

i'm quite scattered today. in the interests of de-scattering i'd like to pluck some moments from the last 24 hours...

C tells me he's "pretty fucked up" and i think "aren't we all?" maybe i said it too. he tells me he's been wanting to kiss me all night at the pub. i tell him "me too". he says we shouldn't, but we do, briefly, on the footpath. he tasted like a fresh cigarette.

E tells me to go to bed when it's after 3am. he says i'll ruin my sleep patterns. he's playing the mother this time and i like it.

but i'm chatting to a new avatar. his name is A. he lives with his mum in melbourne and makes abstract art. he likes my nose. i like that he likes my nose because i too like my nose. i often wonder why more people aren't drawn to it. he has nice lips and the eyes of a scared child.

E offers me a cupcake this morning. i put a confetti mermaid in his bucket of cupcakes but he doesn't notice it.

at the cafe J photographs me when we're talking. i try to put my phobia of cameras aside, to look relaxed. i'm sure i failed, yet again. he points his lens at my fingers stroking the rim of an empty coffee glass. they turn brittle, no longer relaxed, as though they're twigs pretending to be fingers.

C calls when i'm on the bus. i'm reading a zine that reminds me of him. or my feelings about him. it's loud so i say i'll call him back.

we're in the pub and everyone around us is very drunk. i must be the most sober. C's friend is drunk yet lovely and has her first date with a girl. we share her nerves before her date arrives. when she arrives she kicks our arses in pool and before long they're making out by the jukebox. who are these people? how did i get in this scenario? but the alcohol, the situation, the pub, brings us together and makes us into a stealthy gang.

i can't help but fantasise about A taking me under his wing. it's pathetic, but it's a glimmer of something else.

i mourn my lack of connection to men. but maybe i obscure it too. for there's E offering me cupcakes and J listening softly, or with his arms around me when we say hello and goodbye. and i know that i can be close to men. but sometimes these moments fall to the background and i carve myself into a hapless victim.

but we all (E, J, A, and myself) share a distaste for the gaymes we play, as men. and i guess we're all looking for something more real than what we currently have. though maybe none of us really know what that means. but it's possible, right?

i tell J about C and how i didn't want 'a relationship' anyway. we agree that many men place much emphasis on sex, seeing it as leading to something more serious. but it may not. and it need not. yet i continually find myself in those moments of people drawing lines in sand.

"let's just be friends"

the most hurtful word here is 'just'. it's about stopping the flow and limiting us to 'just' friendship. but friendship, in its best form, is not second-rate! for me it rises above 'the relationship' always. the idea of 'just' friendship is therefore insulting. it stomps on the life i aim for - a life connected to others through beautiful moments and many and various angles of love. but for some people, love is uni-dimensional, possessive, enveloping, and in need of protection through a dismantling of all the other love that may appear to threaten it. which includes love between friends.

anyway, that's enough moralising for now. time to dry myself off and get some work done. at least until the morning, when i'll walk to uni via C's house.

we'll drink coffee, we'll talk, and it'll be his birthday. i'll pretend i'm okay. although maybe i really am okay. i'm doing alright. and yes, i feel less scattered already.

i forgot to tell J how much i'm loving the book he loaned me.