i can think of no better way to celebrate my finally buying some styling jeans (two pairs actually) than with irene cara's what a feeling (ultranow distressed denim mix). just like fashion, the key with this track is layering. actually i think that's out. the key to fashion is nudity. in advance of nudity, i discovered my taste in denim is not for the extremely deconstructed (rips and tears and sludge) but for the non-generic branded designer jeans (not levis, not diesel) from somewhere else in the world where they understand my legs and ass. the names of the companies which understand my legs and ass are little big and j & co. love them. the challenge has been, as with purchasing furniture, the balancing of form (gay) and function (jewish). this is a broad stereotype i'm applying to myself, and yet it's completely accurate in this context. bottom line, i want it all, and at a reasonable price. i spent a bit but but but i am worth it, or at least my ass and legs are, and that business up front.
i had a thought a couple of nights ago right as i was going to sleep. a psychotic thought. luckily it faded away after a few moments. the belief in the idea faded, not the memory of the idea. the idea is that i am meant to be myself, and not just when i'm alone. i'm meant to be myself around men. around prospective dates and boyfriends and lovers. i really love the word lovers. it's dreamy. the idea is that i haven't met solid matches yet because i'm a fraud from the get go. i look at myself through another man's eyes and become who i think he wants me to be and i wish he would become who i want him to be. but who can keep up that level of self/partner-delusion for long? besides candy spelling. i'm so on tori's side by the way. she wanted to do an aaron spelling tribute and candy blocked tori's use of the clips. what the hell? what's she gonna hump the clips? anyway...
so all i try to hide at the outset (mouthy, dark, shy, romantic, vulnerable, silly, loud, deep, and?) are aspects that people who are solid matches or potential solid matches would be drawn too. and if i hide them they'll never see me. this is mr. rogers 101. you're the only you in the world. no one else can be you. you're the best you in the world. it's you i like. i just want to remind myself of this after having bought jeans. after having filled in a gap in my casual wardrobe. so the bedtime idea wasn't psychotic. it was hopeful. i hope that when i go out, when i put myself in men's way, that "men" doesn't equal "harm" as it has in the past. i hope that when i'm out, i remain as self-possessed as i am when psyching myself up to go out in the first place. i hope that as i get closer and closer to my social destination, i don't retreat inside myself. i don't wish to be blank. i don't wish to be a rorschach test for a man's instant desires. i wish to be alive and in full view.
people feel sorry for wallflowers. but i am one and i don't feel sorry for myself. i keep my back against the wall because too many people have snuck up behind me and grabbed and clawed and hurt me and i don't want my hide to get any tougher. i keep my back against the wall and i don't forget the second part of the word. flower. because i'm that too. nectar and pistil and stamen and green and roots and beauty and hungry and thirsty and jeans i earned.
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