My acerbic wit

How do I say this gently? Do you know what irony is? Your problems stem from the denial of the fact that you’ve switched from one lifelong habit to another. This addiction justifies your childishly poor impulse control – it coddles you. You are painfully aware that history recycles yet you don’t see how its pattern works on you. You stay nestled in the recesses of everybody’s hate and stagnate because it’s easier to think you’re above everybody else; that by being the bitter witty clown you’ll somehow win. Being at the apotheosis of my benevolence – I abide by this instead of saying anything directly hurtful. But it slowly builds inside of me – and will eventually emerge. Run.

if there were a god (or I believed in one)...

Surely the exquisite creature I witnessed in the Vic building on campus today was an exercise in god's ability to create an immaculate human male in visage. So effortless in manner, style, and grace this person (I shudder to call him a man, as his face had the porcelain quality of a doll) was that I dared not speak a word lest he disappear in a pouf of my own rife imagination. What a perfect sequence of DNA the randomness of the universe cast on him. I quickly moved my pithy beverage off the brown leather of the divan in the foyer as he made to sit down beside me - so gauche seeming this refreshment was in his presence. He said "thank you". We read our books in relative silent understanding and camaraderie, both enjoying the lazy atmosphere of our beloved building. We spent an hour together (yet apart) - neither saying anything. Eventually he got up and disappeared downstairs in his James Dean-esque essence. I took my leave - thinking how wonderful that he should exist in this universe.

lost in reverie

The way you tear through me is like clockwork. Given that this year without you has undoubtedly been the best in my life I'm surprised that I can still react this way to external emotionally tugging stimuli. I don't know if it was the sequence or pattern of the way we danced around each other again this week that pulled at my muscle memory - only postponed by a week last time in me having a distraction in London/Cambridge. The culmination of which was my emotional tumble down the proverbial stairs in a hotel room in Le Havre. Completely alone and sequestered away from the rest of the world - and you followed me there, at least in thought.

I forgot that we saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind together at the Carlton. I downloaded it and watched it until now - when it ended. 6 am. How did we change places? Now I'm the one who stays up all night - and you sleep peacefully in your new bed. The framing of the intimacy in the film brought me back to our room and the smell of warm skin - that completely unique smell of us enmeshed and tangled together. And it's not that I want to be with you, that you doesn't exist anymore, or never did, and it's strange. How we're strangers now.