I'm overfull.
OK, so I have now eaten all of my alloted calories for the day. It's 4:30pm. There's a lot of time ahead of me. This means a piping hot bowl of icebeg lettuce with an extra scoop of anger on the side for dinner tonight. I'm not sorry; I wanted that pizza.
This brings me to think about other areas of my life that I binge/overindulge in. The foremost being the life of memory. Just a few entries ago I was waxing on about how memory cannot be trusted, and this is true. But memory, or at least the memory of emotions of the past is a tempting place to wander through. Or, not so much as wander through as to explore and then inhabit. If one is not careful, that is.
I find myself turning into a bit of a cliche these days. After watching "The Boys in The Band" again I am reminded that it all has, in fact, been said already. Most of it has been said already in alternatively hilarious and annhilating dialogue, delivered with timing that could only be beaten by a bitchy atomic clock. I also wonder if people have figured out that TBITB is actually the template for that other gay ur-text, "The Golden Girls."
Love is on the mind always. Love is the root of all evil. Sounds harsh, and a bit sophomoric, but what evil under the sun was not perpetrated by someone enraged by not getting what they wanted? The money, the girl, the guy, the whatever. All anger comes from unrequited or refused love. The latter of the two kinds of love is so much more damaging than the first, I think. Nothing is so nullifying as to be told that not only are you not loved back by the one you love, but your love itself is quite simply uninteresting in the first place. It does not even bear consideration. The ego rages to Heaven at the injustice. It should be enough for you - that I want you. The infant knows no other way. Just ask Orlando. Or me.
I've had my fill today, indeed.
This brings me to think about other areas of my life that I binge/overindulge in. The foremost being the life of memory. Just a few entries ago I was waxing on about how memory cannot be trusted, and this is true. But memory, or at least the memory of emotions of the past is a tempting place to wander through. Or, not so much as wander through as to explore and then inhabit. If one is not careful, that is.
I find myself turning into a bit of a cliche these days. After watching "The Boys in The Band" again I am reminded that it all has, in fact, been said already. Most of it has been said already in alternatively hilarious and annhilating dialogue, delivered with timing that could only be beaten by a bitchy atomic clock. I also wonder if people have figured out that TBITB is actually the template for that other gay ur-text, "The Golden Girls."
Love is on the mind always. Love is the root of all evil. Sounds harsh, and a bit sophomoric, but what evil under the sun was not perpetrated by someone enraged by not getting what they wanted? The money, the girl, the guy, the whatever. All anger comes from unrequited or refused love. The latter of the two kinds of love is so much more damaging than the first, I think. Nothing is so nullifying as to be told that not only are you not loved back by the one you love, but your love itself is quite simply uninteresting in the first place. It does not even bear consideration. The ego rages to Heaven at the injustice. It should be enough for you - that I want you. The infant knows no other way. Just ask Orlando. Or me.
I've had my fill today, indeed.
posted by tony m. at 4:34 PM
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