All those ballet lessons, so many bruises...

This weekend was filled with weird sexual tension. It could be the Lent thing, but there was some serious mojo flying off all the walls. I examined it closely, and have decided that if the opportunity presents, I will devour this new secret crush and burp him up afterwards. But it's not something I will seek, only something that I kind of hope I find.

I had another tragic fall down some very steep stairs at this bar in Brooklyn. I hadn't had a sip of alcohol, just some slippery stairs, but my ass hurts like a bitch and there's a monster of a bruise all along my right cheek in the shape of the stair that claimed it.

Funny quote from that night:

[this guy walks over to Chloe, a very gorgeous girl, who even in a pony tail, baseball cap, jeans, and a shirt, is quite something]

"This drink is for you [Chloe doesn't drink]. My friend bought it for you and he wanted you to know that even though your hat is camoflaged, his feelings are not."

Worst. Pickup Line. EVER.

I took a cab back from Brooklyn that my castmate Awkward Man paid for (seeing as I have no access to cash until my new ATM card arrives)and since we danced together earlier to Moondance, I thought it was weird that when we parted ways, he wanted to shake my hand.

"That's silly. Give me a hug."

He goes in for the hug, but then tries to kiss me as well. And it was that awful, awkward-type kiss where they were going for your cheek, but you were caught unaware and so they end up kissing your ear.

I giggled all the way home. Even when we're drunk, me and this guy are so uncomfortable around each other. It'd be a great romantic comedy if I was attracted to this kid at all. But I'm not. So it's just weird.

Saturday I played it low-key. I had to set my alarm early in the morning to catch the bank before it closed, seeing as I used up all my cash the night before. It was a great winter morning. Classic New York. Walking home from the bank, little pufflets of snow plopped on my head, like albino cherry blossoms. And the wind wasn't bad, so it was just really pleasant. Though my ass was sore from my impersonation of a tumble-weed, it was nice to walk on a Saturday morning and just watch the snow fall.

And then I overheard something funny as well. Maybe I'll turn it into here.


[Park Avenue Bitch on her cell]:

"And then he takes me to this party and there's all these topless girls and shit, and I'm like, COME ON! Haven't I stroked your ego enough?"

Oh lord. Where is this party? I want to go.

No I don't. New York is weird.

I watched movies all day, smoked all day, Conor came over and we watched more movies and TV, and I realized that other than the bank excursion, I did not leave the house. Devon and I seem to be trying to keep all the delivery services on the Upper East Side in business. Crazy. I thought I was bad ordering food in Austin. Here it's just a way of life.

Sunday held rehearsal. We got a rehearsal space that's this abandoned food court in Times Square. It's way cool and looks like it would be the perfect set-up for a horror movie.

And then I chatted with Julie, who is very wisely bailing the fuck outta the country. I didn't know she read this [hi Jules], and I think it's hi-larious that she scored as Larry.

Who's who of my exes:
Kristen-Mahdi
Abby-Sleazy
Ashlee-Sleazy
Daniel-Sleazy
Devon-Larry
Julie-Larry
Conor-Eric (who would've called that one? Not I, that's fo' sho')

No one has scored as Will. Once again, he's barely a blip on the radar. Poor Will. But what's up with all the Sleazys? Do all you people want to live in a cave or what?

And then...Oscars.

Here was our drinking game (Conor joining us again--Conor only loves girls with cable):
-reference to God/mom-1 drink
-Chris Rock stepping over the line/the "I'm so surprised" or "I didn't prepare a speech" line-5 drinks
-political references/social change ("I'm so glad that black people are in the movies now!") 10 drinks

I pooped out after The Aviator was sweeping all the technical stuff. Just fell asleep. I don't know when Conor left or anything. So I hope that if he was planning to have sex with Devon, he took care of business while I was passed out.

I feel very conflicted. I feel out of control and cautious. My heart is saying one thing, my loins another, and my mind something else entirely. My body is in civil war and it all has to do with love and lust. It's made me very moody, depending on what part has taken over. And there's a violent coup about every hour. Right now, my heart is feeling in control and so I'm sad. But I know it won't last. The one thing that has become certain is that since my adoption of the 40 Days of Reckoning, my loins don't go too long before starting to call the shots. So I'll try to relax into my melancholy. Of course, I'm at work, so my head should be calling all the shots, but my head rarely does anyway. So check back with me in an hour and we'll see where we stand then.

I want love. I want to be alone. I want sex. I want to feel comfortable. I want my space. I want someone to lose control with, and yet still manage to hold onto myself. I want. I want. I want. Such self-gratification. Such hopelessness. Such loss of direction. I want to feel the breath of someone on the back of my neck. I want to sleep alone. I want someone to get me and love me and be gentle with me and I want to rip apart someone till I can feast on their soul for brunch. I want someone to caress my lower back as I exit a room. I want to be consumed. I want to hole myself up in my room and never leave. I want to get out.

I want a drink. I think I will do Happy Hour Monday today. I don't want to see my apartment.

El fin.