13 May, 2004
I've been that sick. The kind where you- oh fuck the images look like little damn labels. What's up with that?
Stupid triangle heads.
There damn deleted it.
Okay so where were we?
I've been sick.
I fought it. I almost cried. I made noises a lot even when I was on my own- I was THAT sick.
I threw up. I coughed. I felt dizzy. I slept.
I slept some more.
I blew my nose more times than a nose like mine should be blown.
I managed to make it out several times to eat- because eating seemed the only thing to do (strangely don't you think? aparently not- anyway.)
Before I became ill I was out and sitting in a bar with an old friend. My diaryfriend Swanny just reminded me of this incident.
The old friend was talking to another woman whom I also know and the two were having a rather graphic conversation about sex.
The only thing I said in the course of the conversation was to do with people who've been in long term relationships who then find themselves 'dating' and how their behaviour is often misconstrued as 'relationshipy'... when really its just how they are used to relating to someone on an intimate level. They are used to calling regularily- used to doing couply things- its almost second nature- so it can't be a true indicator of how much they 'want to become serious' with the other person.
I said this then kept quiet.
They kept talking about sex.
I kept quiet.
Then I made ONE little comment and my long time friend said, "Oh god Alex you're ALWAYS talking about sex!"
I finally got to say what I've wanted to say for a long time now,
"No *mydearfriend* I don't always talk about sex, you just have a rather strange habit of always noticing whenever ANYTHING I say is even remotely sexual and having to comment on it. I think maybe we should talk about your desire to always point out that you think I'm overly and overtly sexual don't you?"
I also managed to slip in a comment when she said, "I had to give up *somemartialart* because it was bringing out the inner rage in me and that's never happened to me before."
I looked at her quizzically.
"You've never shown rage or anger?" I said with my lame attempt at a raised eyebrow (can't do it.)
"No, I mean I've never felt driven to acts of rage or violence."
"Oh so I guess slapping a friend in anger doesn't count then?"
The thing I love about getting this comeuppance is that they generally happen when she is surrounded by a group of her friends- who normally are not really listening to what I'm saying anyway- but whom she can not make a 'scene' infront of. Well she could, she normally does, but I have a sneaking and growing suspicion that she's becoming wary of me.
I've taken the boot a little too long from her and I think she knows she pushed it.
That's a mixed up sentence if ever hey.
So it feels good.
It also feels good- and I suspect this had a lot to do with my downward spiral into flusickcrapness- to finally get to say the things I got to say to D.L about what he did to me.
I finally got tell him to shut up when he said, almost in tears, "Alex, Alex I didn't mean it I was wasted." I then added a little tyrade on being accountable for sexually assalting someone you supposedly care for whilst under the influence of drugs and alcohol. I told him he was sick and that he needed help and that no amount of forgiveness from me or begging for it from him would ever guarrantee that he wouldn't behave like that again.
I still get the shiverytimbers when I think about it. I told him that until every last cent he owes me is in my bank account that I will basically consider him unworthy of my friendship.
Heh.
No no slap YOU harder I say.
So its been a week like that.
I've not worked. I've no money. I've looked people in the eye and called them on horrible things they've done and said to me. I'm sure my turn is coming soon but that's okay.
I've discussed business plans and artistic plans with people and have something to actually wrap my fingers around.
I've been alternatively sad and angry about the loss of my friendship with Victoria- but what do I do you know?
You say to a friend, "Fuck you've hurt me." They shrug back at you.
You say it again, again a shrug.
Then- you do like I did (horribly matture as you can imagine)- you stomp your foot on the ground and demand their love and attention and they shrug again.
You say some heartfelt nasty things that aren't even the start of it and imagine the retorts they could make about yourself (look I KNOW most of my faults, I KNOW I've let my friends down, made them feel bad, been whatever but atleast I don't still run a mile at a cracking pace from it) and you move on.
On and over the hills and out into the marshes to the boat that's waiting that'll take you wherever it was that you wanted to go before that friendship even rocked around and you try to think of all the love and support and INSPIRATION you gave as something not totally mispent and useless...
and you say,
Hey I realised that I'm a bit of bitch and a hard hearted one at that this week but I've not got as many friends as I'd like- even though I don't get to see the ones I love as much as I'd like.
But.
Yeah.
I want a house.