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The Carpenters "Rainy Days and Mondays" |
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Hello there, guys and gals (or no one else, that's cool too), your space cowboy of love, Louie V, has returned and he's brought space goodies. Why the hell do I insist on using a new ridiculous greeting every time I begin this fucker? And this must be the fortieth time I've used some version of "cowboy" to start it off. Anyway, I digress.
Generally I wait a little longer to update the DJ, but the past couple days have been more eventful than most. When I say "past couple days," I actually mean last night, when I ran into Phil at the Currier weight room at 10 PM. We chatted there for awhile with his friend Nicole there, and it was very pleasant and whimsical and cute and nonchalant. How nice. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Well then, Phil asked me what I was doing for the rest of the night and I said I had to study for a test the next day. So he invited me to study with him in the laundry room at his dorm while his laundry was getting washed. Fair enough. Alright, so we're there, and not much studying happens considering Phil is conversing with just about every random person and their mothers in the laundry room. As he's putting clothes into the washing machine, I mention casually how no one tells me to "fuck off!" as much as Phil does, and then he even-more-casually says back to me, "and see how you get no action from me!" Okay, seeing as our courtship has been nothing more than conversation and joking around, that comment seemed out of line. More than that, it like...struck me dumb how like...callous and obviously power-struggle-winning that comment was. Like "you just keep trying to get action from me, and I just keep being cute and resisting!" So right then, I tell Phil it's about time to have a talk. We walk to the vending machine room while his precious tights and dancer thong get washed. So I bring up how "You know, Phil, I'm really not viewing you as like some sexual conquest." And he's all "oh I know, I'm just messing around." Haha, Phil. Inevitably, we get into a long drawn-out conversation...well, if that's what you want to call it. Mostly it was Phil talking and explaining and defining HIMSELF while I sat idly by. This isn't to say the conversation was uninteresting, but good lord, he never like...asked me anything or seemed to even care about my personal perspective. He went on to tell me lots of things about himself that he apparently doesn't tell anyone, which is fine and nice and even a little flattering, but he explained it all with such a self-centered attitude...it was like he could've been talking to anyone or any inanimate object. It was a lot of self-promotion and a lot of "well Louis, I just think you can't trust people...the only person you've got is yourself...and if you open up too much, you're just going to get hurt." Okay, 1) where the fuck have I heard this traumatized shit before and 2) you may be the only person you can steer around, but the ability of any human to connect with others on so many levels is essential to our living process...it's built into the workplace, into society, it's how we educate ourselves (social construction of learing, beeyotches)...fact is, you need to connect with the human race. So I bring this up to Phil and he says with disdain, "Well you just have...more faith in people than I do." What a crime.
Anyway, throughout this mother of a conversation, Phil continues to talk about how he must be "independent" and how he's a big power-struggle person and all this other wonderful stuff that was interesting but never ever related to other people (let alone me), and so then I decide that I actually exist and deserve to be able to participate in the conversation and so I ask, "Well Phil, what do you think of me?" And Phil, visibly bothered that I would interrupt his shpiel with my lowly mortal shit, is like, "Well at first I thought you were scary." Thank you for everything, Phil. Then he's like "And you talked a LOT." Okay, I understand I talk a lot sometimes, people, but with Phil, I have almost NEVER gotten in a word edgewise, not while he's going on and on about whatever the hell he feels like. I have never been overly talkative with him, not ever. I've been respectful and even demure around him. Then he brings up the impressions he had about me before he met me, "Well Tess told me that you were saying that you and I were...like MEANT TO BE or something." I would first of all like to thank Tess for giving him that impression. Big carrot-three for you, babe. You really must've cared that we got along well. Also, anything I ever said regarding really liking Phil in an extravagant manner was fucking OBVIOUSLY done in jest. So anyway, Phil continues to not pull punches and says, "And when we were talking in your dorm and you were bringing up situations involving 'getting off'...I may have looked at you like I wasn't weirded out but umm, I was thinking 'TOO PERSONAL' and I thought, 'What, does he think he's going to do anything like that with me?!" This little ditty was a personal favorite of mine. First of all, I love how the topic of "getting off" is somehow controversial and taboo to this guy, the same person who tells me he likes to hump some girl in his dorm just so she can feel turned on. This is the same guy who said he couldn't help always having random erections around his ex-boyfriend. I'm really sorry, Phil, that my tidbits that actually involved people I cared about and actual honesty were too touchy for you...why don't we go back to your motherfucking life story? Please, let's talk more about how "you're losing your dancer form" but how you're still "really the best dancer in the class, seriously." Moving on, Phil added, "But I decided to put aside all hearsay I had regarding you and decided to give you a chance and get whatever it is you had for me out of your system." Oh Phil! So kindly you are! Gracing me with your presence and all! Sidenote: I think this may be the most sarcastic entry of all time. I'll have to check the books. So I decide to get bold about it and ask, "Alright, so if you're weirded out or whatever by me, then why do you tell me all this stuff that you don't tell other people?" And he's like, "Well you asked." Uh, pardon? I asked such biting questions as "So what do you and your friends do for fun?" and you replied with chapter eight of The Phil Autobiography. As bitter as I am about this, it's not like I didn't appreciate the stuff he told me...but after awhile it was clear he wasn't telling me personal information out of any sort of connection we had but because he really just liked talking about himself to anyone. Himself is his whole world. Anyone who asks can hear his tale and his shpiel. Even if he doesn't care about you. Even if he thinks you're a fucking weirdo. Here's another fun part of this story...ANYTIME I entered the conversation, as in anytime I spoke up, Phil would immediately lose interest in the conversation and even go so far as to say out loud, "I really need to go to bed soon" and fucking INTERRUPT me! Well shit, Phil, pardon me for speaking up during the lecture, next time I'll bring a goddamn legal pad. By the end of our "conversation," we had moved to the stairwell of his building, and at 2 AM, we called it quits. What a perfect time for me to realize I didn't have my keys in my pocket. I said to Phil, "Shit, I don't know what to do." And Phil, COMPLETELY BOTHERED that I've got an issue, is like "Well uhhh, I don't have a futon, Louis!" I didn't ask for you to turn your room into a fucking Hilton, Phil. I'm asking for a little help. And Phil, Captain Generosity, then says, "Well...I guess you could sleep in the lounge!" Haha, or the stairwell! Or outside! Or with Todd and the bums in downtown Iowa City! In a burst of inspiration, I call Christine at 2 AM and don't get an answer...fortunately then I found my keys in my backpack and soon after that Christine called me back all tired and "wtf, dawg?" I felt pretty bad about that but apparently she couldn't get to sleep anyway. Phil made fun of me for not knowing where my keys were and by that time I was in no mood for sarcasm and low blows. I saved that for the deadjournal.
There are good qualities about Phil. He is funny, educated, and realistic about certain things...but now I gather that he's absolutely (and I mean this for what it is) self-centered and more importantly he's insincere and doesn't mind giving people wrong impressions. As a matter of fact, I think he likes that. What kind of joy would one get out of thinking, "Haha, that person thinks I enjoy their company! Hahaha, I know they enjoy mine but woah honey, that feeling aint mutual." Guess having a conscience would really solve that problem, but alas, I guess some people aren't blessed with that commodity. Wouldn't most people feel pretty shitty knowing that they gave someone the impression that they really liked them when they didn't? I really don't see what good is being done in not being honest with others. I really don't see what good is being done in being so inward that all other people barely register on your radar. I really don't see why you'd want to leave the house if you were that determined to put so much distance between yourself and the rest of humanity. I really don't see how you could be happy not recognizing your place as an important member of the human race. I also can't see how any other person on earth would provide you with actual enjoyment.
You know, I may regret writing this. But actually, I'm pretty offended that someone would offer so much personal information to me in such an inviting way and then actually have a not-so-awesome opinion of me and not mind being insincere, or rather, inconsiderate of how I felt and inconsiderate of how he could hurt me. I'm not saying I detest his honesty...but there's really a difference between being honest in a constructive, caring way and being honest in a positively careless way. Just like recent shit I've put up with where I've been told "Well Louis, if you didn't want someone to know that you said mean things about them, you shouldn't have said them to me! I was just being honest!" Wrong, you were being careless and vindictive and are using "honesty" as a guise to justify your actions. Just like fuckers who use religion as a way to justify their close-mindedness. Awww hell.
I guess this entry is so fucking long because I've just exposed to one mother of a reality check. I have no scruples about approaching Phil (that is, if I can get in a word before his storm of self-promotion comes-a-rainin' down). I have to say, this is more than disappointing. Someone who seemed as fun-loving and as outgoing as he did just shouldn't have to be so callous about people's feelings or as paranoid about hearing others personal stories. It doesn't add up. Phil really had a way of making me feel like shit too. Really made me feel like I was un-special to him, if not a nuisance. He did rebound with, "I do invite you to things all the time, so I must be interested in furthering our friendship!" Yeah, but am I invited again and again because you care or am I some forum where you can continuously talk about your "self-sufficience" (aka disconnectedness) and "not caring about what other people think" (although you are deathly afraid of rejection)? Even though he's full of shit about certain things...I give him credit, I guess. Given some of the things he told me, maybe I wouldn't be so ready-and-raring to go out and there and get close to people...but I can't really see divulging so much to someone without wanting reciprocity or wanting to connect. At this point I've decided I'm not going to make any effort to call him or talk to him... if he really wants me around, he can go out of his way. I don't doubt that he will...and I honestly don't think he knows what awful taste he left in my mouth (Figuratively of course! What a ridiculous thing for me to assume that he'd want to ever kiss me given that he invited me on walks with him and tells me everything he can think of about himself!). I'm spewing with bitterness...and sure some of this isn't totally justifiable on my part...but it hurts to be so led on and utterly un-cared about. The lack of perception on his part is unsettling too. Would it have killed him to reach out? Or would that have been a burden to such a "self-sufficient" person? Nothing like figuring out the fucked up ethics behind this bullshit. Where is Aimee Mann and why isn't she assembling all this into three 4-line stanzas and a chorus?
I am underestimating how interesting I actually thought some topics of discussion were. There was one time when I got to talk where I got to explain how much I love my high school friends and how much they all mean to me, and I could sense he was jealous. He said, "I'm...really glad you have that." Maybe he does want to connect somehow but the urge to disconnect and build a fortress around himself seems like something a "strong person" would do. He does make me laugh, and I do make him laugh. But that only goes so far, and "humor" can really just be window-dressing on a not-so-awesome infrastructure of a relationship.
So much exposition for such a short period of time! Throughout the writing of this entry, 59 people have been in and out of this room, borrowing shit and using the microwave and noting Todd's very abstract and artistic-of-course paintings. He just hung up like...7 different pieces of green construction paper that he smothered with paint. I'm pretty sure he blatantly called them "artistic." Hitler thought he was pretty artistic too. Todd, delightful and cute as always, said to me, "You know, livejournals are the queerest thing you can do...well, I mean, not the queerest, but the dorkiest, yeah. You know, most people are embarrassed about their livejournals." Did you take a poll, Todd? I better get on the right track and start the binge drinking.
Tonight, Alyssa and I studied at Starbucks for a solid 2.5 hours for the couldn't-be-more-ridiculous-sounding Social Scientific Foundations of Communication class. It was nearly grueling, but through our bad-assness and consumption of rocket fuel (frappuccino), we prevailed. We even got to chat, and Alyssa now seems to be as hooked on frappuccinos as I am. Well, her body isn't 80 percent comprised of frappuccino like mine is, but she's definitely a soon-to-be connoisseur of the art they call Starbuck. Good to convert people... about time I led a cult of some sort. I've certainly got the ferocity and hawk-like appearance to pull it off. Won't you join us? Just like that Boy Meets World episode where Sean joins the cult where everyone hugs all the time. What a creep-ass episode, who the hell thinks of that? I love how Mr. Feeny was so up in arms about the whole mess and he insisted that he "had been trying to shut that cult down for years!" Haha, really? You never brought that up before, George.
Okay, it's time to view this picture that Kimmie sent me and it's also time to get the hell off this computer. Must shower and must get to sleep as to prepare myself for the exam tomorrow. I sense that in the near future, some heads will be busted and some confrontation will occur and erupt into a fiery hell. Welcome to hell, biznitches, it's time for the barbecue.
Love you foreva, dudes. Strike a pose,
Louis.
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