Binary Tuberculosis

For some reason I asked myself earlier in the day, what could be the worst curse one can have? Midas came to mind, as did Sisyphus, but as I looked over my bedside table, I settled on a singular answer for today… August from John Crowley’s Little, Big.

Why? August had made a trade, a deck of cards in return for power over the hearts of all women. Cursed he had become.

He learned, though slowly, what all great harrowed lovers learn: that love is what most surely compels love–is perhaps, except for brute force, the only thing that does, though only (and this was the terrible gift he had been given) when the lover truly believes, as August could, that when his love is strong enough it must surely be returned–and August’s was.

…he came to know that it did not and had not ever contained his power over women: his power over women lay in their power over him.

Imagine having the love of every woman. Imagine not being able to stop loving them. Imagine not being to stop their love from being returned. Imagine endless heartbreaks. A curse indeed.

His role in the novel wasn’t major and in fact there are characters with even more tragic happenings, heroes even, but his short role in those pages was… refreshing. Seeing a gift in a different light. But I guess, sadly, it seems to be one of those curses that you must experience yourself to truly fear. I wouldn’t mind being rewarded with this curse (or cursed with this gift), as I’m sure all of you wouldn’t mind either.

Tags: curse, mythology

Pocky Sticks and Pomegranate Juice.

Best.  Dinner.  Ever.

Tags: food

After a two week hiatus I got back into my running routine tonight. The news fares well my friends, no neck, shoulder, or back pain… I live eternal!

Or maybe I’m doing something wrong, why you ask? Well, um, I think I may have run too much or maybe not right or something… I removed my socks and a couple of the toes in my right foot were bloody.

I think my body hates me.

I sense the weather is shifting, my corporeal self is tired of taking orders from a grey mass which gets all the credit. If nobody hears from me soon, then I have been ravaged in a bloody civil war of personal proportions. This rising coup d’état will be quenched!

I think my mind is starting to hate me too.

Tags: body, running

Got a slurpee during lunch today.

Bonus.

Tags: slurpee

Things that can go to hell today:

1. The extremely warm temperature.
2. The fact that the Porter Square T stop was shut down.
3. Me staring at the incredibly diabolical line at the bus stop to get to Harvard Square.
4. Waiting on the wrong side of the street for the bus to get to Davis Square.
5. Running after the bus headed to Davis Square on the other side of the street.
6. The eye-wateringly bad smell emanating from the guy in front of me in the T.
7. The train stopping at Porter Square, happily showing that people are now in fact allowed to enter the Porter Square T stop, happily making my little unwanted morning adventure worthless.
8. Me wanting to take another shower as I entered work today, late.

This is one of those days that I just need ice-cream, a tight hug… and maybe a beej.

Tags: heat, ice-cream, mbta, monday

So the last couple months I’ve had this hunger, no, that isn’t it, more like an itch. It starts in the back of your head, slowly pokes at your heart, climbs up to your brain, sparks at the most inopportune moments, smiles at you on a bad day, gives you a forlorn glance on a good day, keeps you warm in your daydreams, lifts you up with the feel of something new, and eventually becomes a welcome friend that monopolizes your free time.

What am I talking about? I think I want to move out of Boston… again.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this, doubtful the move will happen, very doubtful, but then again, nothing is really holding me back either. Honestly, right now, I would completely love to just go to some random country where I didn’t know anybody, get an amazing place, an even better job, a very select few close friends, and just… be.

I think I’m just being selfish again. Maybe I just feel sorry for all the books on my shelf that I still need to read or the movies I have yet to remove from their shrink wrap. It isn’t time or solitude I’m yearning for, but more a feeling of electricity, to be running toward a finishing line, to know that my life is no longer a series of opportune chances.

Here’s hoping a lightening bolt points me in the right direction or at the very least, hits me in the arse and pushes me toward a goal, for better or worse.

I guess I’ll wait for the catalyst. But then again, life doesn’t work for people who wait, nobody wins the lottery without buying a ticket. Or I may not have to move at all…

“The voyage of discovery is not in looking for new landscapes, but in looking with new eyes.”
-Anonymous

Tags: quote, travel

This is for the time I threw the rock that hit you in the head. Bad. For smoking that cigarette to try and fit in. For not loving you back. For making plans with you for lunch and leaving you waiting. Then running into you outside afterward. For stealing $5 from your wallet for comic books. For making you cry while we walked to the restaurant. For ignoring your 4 year old cries. Then hearing you fall down the stairs. For not realizing I was being rude. For not picking up the phone. Then turning it off. For flirting with the girl you liked. And liking it when she flirted back. While you were in the room. For not realizing you loved me. For thinking I could love you back. For asking you out. For never asking you out. For saying I’ll be right back with another drink and never coming back. For making you cry on Valentine’s. For yelling at the breakfast table and storming away. For falling asleep while you were upset. For not kissing you. For kissing you. For convincing myself into believing something. For making fun of your body. For not wanting you to marry him. For still not changing my mind about him. For not loving you back. For turning my music up really loud to ruin your picnic. For making fun of your job. For coveting your wife. For lying about my computer crash to get a better grade. For not stopping you from hitting that child. For not stopping you from hitting my aunt. For not helping you up when you fell from your crutches. For not loving you sisters equally. For forging your signature. Multiple times. For not loving you enough while you were still living. Both of you. For charging you too much. For not respecting you enough. For not loving you back. For mentioning obscure music to make myself sound cooler than you. For not helping you load the car when you obviously needed help. For not giving you another chance. For acting like I didn’t hear what you said. For acting like I’m fine when I’m not. For lying about oversleeping so I wouldn’t have to see you. For being selfish. For ruining what we had. For not offering to pay for lunch. For assuming that you would. For not wanting to be friends with you because I hate your wife. For convincing myself you felt the same way. For being a fickle bastard. For blinding myself from the truth. For not having enough willpower. For being a really fickle bastard. And most of all, for not loving you back.

TB
Cambridge, MA
June 2, 2008