"cute face, gorgeous titties: two things i thought i would never come to hate"part two: "and there is this other girl I smacked up real good"

"cute face, gorgeous titties: two things i thought i would never come to hate"
part two: "and there is this other girl I smacked up real good"




ORIGIN OF LOVE
"when the earth was still flat and the clouds made of fire
and the mountains stretched up to the sky, sometimes higher
folks roamed the earth like big rolling kegs
they had two sets of arms
they had two sets of legs
they had two faces peering out of one giant head
so they could watch all around them as they talked while they read
and they never knew nothing of love
it was before the origin of love
origin of love
the origin of love
origin of love
well there were three sexes then
one that looked like two men glued on back to back
they were the children of the sun
and similar in shape girth were the children of the earth
they looked like two girls rolled up in one
and the children of the moon was like a fork shoved on a spoon
they were part sun part earth part daughter part son
oh the origin of love
well the gods grew quite scared of our strength and defiance
and thor said i'm gonna kill them all with my hammer
like i killed the giants
but zeus said no
you'd better let me use my lightning like scissors
like i cut the legs off the whales
dinosaurs into lizards
then he grabbed up some bolts, he let out a laugh
said i'll split them right down the middle
gonna cut them right up in half
and then storm clouds gathered above into great balls of fire
and then fire shot down from the sky in bolts
like shining blades of a knife
and it ripped right through the flesh
of the children of the sun and the moon and the earth
and some indian god sewed the wound up to a hole
turned it 'round to our bellies to remind us the price we payed
and osiris, and the gods of the nile gathered up a big storm
to blow a hurricane
to scatter us away
a flood of wind and rain, a sea of tidal waves
to wash us all away
and if we don't behave they'll cut us down again
and we'll be hopping 'round on one foot
looking through one eye
the last time i saw you we had just split in two
you was looking at me, i was looking at you
you had a way so familiar i could not recognize
cause you had blood on your face
and i had blood in my eyes
but i swear by your expression
that the pain down in your soul was the same
as the one down in mine
that's the pain
that cuts a straight line down through the heart
we call it love
we wrapped our arms around each other
tried to shove ourselves back together
we were making love, making love
it was a cold dark evening such a long time ago
when by the mighty hand of jove
it was a sad story how we became lonely two-legged creatures
the story, the origin of love
that's the origin of love
oh yeah, the origin of love
the origin of love
the origin of love"
--Hedwig and The Angry Inch

I quote the song in its entirety for good reason. I want to talk about soul mates for a bit. That sound nice? I don’t think that I believe in them, but I want to. Just like I don’t believe in a God, but I can see how a feller could get off on such a thought. And for me to believe in God He would have to come down Himself and tell me in no uncertain terms that He wants, no, needs me for a sunbeam. And I don’t mean come to me in the faces of all the little children, or the warmth on a clear blue day. But me and Him face to face.

This weekend the Lady Windham’s (that’s Emily Windham) father came for a visit. It made me happy. I have much respect for the man. I had a cigarette with him on Emily’s porch, and I’m a guy who gave up smoking. And it was menthol at that. I even got a chance to have a beer with the guy, and this is a man who never drinks. To get a picture of why I could respect a man so, is he looks similar to and acts like Hunter S. Thompson. He’s brilliant and off the wall but without the use of drugs. But we’ll not hold that against him. In fact we envy him for it. Hardly seems fair he could be so considering all the hours we’ve logged in MJQ’s bathroom snorting coke. But then that being true of ourselves we can’t really complain of time wasted, can we?

I only had lunch with the man. The elegance and intimacy of dinner was reserved for he, his daughter Emily, and….her boyfriend. I’ve known her longer, and harder.

The song up there; that’s one of mine and Emily’s songs. Our number one song is David Bowie’s “Five Years”. We’ve known each other for two. We have three left. I don’t know about her but I intend on ending this then. It just seems perfect, you know? And if you don’t know I suggest you listen to that song over and over until you do know.

If you can imagine this: there they are sitting at dinner in the nicest restaurant in Sioux Falls, Minerva’s. And it is a nice, classy joint. All wood finish and brass railings. Fine, fine steaks and martinis. All enclosed in a corner building that looks like it belongs in some East Coast City about the time that painting at the beginning of Cheers takes place. They’re laughing and riding on inside jokes and stories, sparking, igniting new ones. And I’m outside in the cold telling myself I’m too busy anyway what with my, now legendary, unwritten book and that next installment of my blog and all.

Emily calls me her soul mate. She calls a few people that. I call her my imaginary friend come true. But my point is a lot of people call a lot of people that; soul mate that is. Within the first six months of all my earlier relationships I’ve thought this and said this too. I’ve also done the whole “we just fit, you know?” and “man, I tell her things I don’t tell anyone else, and that was in like the first time hanging out with her!” And this leads to the whole “I don’t know. I still love her, but I’m not ‘in’ love with her, you know?” and “I feel like I can’t talk to her, we don’t communicate.” Rinse and repeat. How does the old saying go? “Insanity is doing the exact same thing over and over and expecting different results.” So where does this pin me in my love life. You fucking tell me, right? I’m resting on the faith that whoever she is she’s smarter than me and will be able to let me know in no uncertain terms that we are soul mates. In other words she’d have to perform an act of God. –That I don’t believe in.-- It’s high stakes, folks, but think of the pay off.

And it’s not jealousy jealousy that I feel for the boyfriend. I don’t feel he’s in my place. It’s just that before now Emily and I were undefined even to ourselves. That felt like magic; that no one could quantify or name the gravity between us. Everyone thought that we were in love, or brother and sister, or mother and father, and best yet, something all together new in the relationships of men and women. I never knew what we were, nor did she. Now with him I feel abruptly and violently defined. I’m the best friend. “No, her boyfriend’s at home, we’re just really good friends.” Where the fuck is the fun in that? And it’s hard to love her as freely and harder to leave her be with him. And harder still that the boyfriend is a fixture in Sioux Falls. Like a lamp post. And she’s holding on to that. In fact, one reason why her father came to town was to help them sign a lease on a house together. Me, folks, I’m a dog, a smart mutt what likes his freedom, and there is still a chain between her and I, and I pull on it always. And she is a girl who wants her cake and to eat it too, and the heart to believe it could be thus. And why shouldn’t it? I like her boyfriend. But what I don’t like is being inadvertently tethered to a lamp post. Perhaps it will come to pass that we won’t make it even the five years.

But enough of that! Fuck that! Let’s get to the part where I smacked her good; drunk and in public no doubt! Baby, we’re back in Atlanta. It’s a rainy fucking Saturday that we had planned to spend the whole day together. I even made a mix CD so we could have a soundtrack. It was Jody and Emily loosed upon the town, boy, and we meant to fuck it up proper! But so many things went wrong. First it rained. Second I was late as I was coming from Athens and hung over. Thirdly, she had started a new job and needed to go shopping for new conservative work clothes. We met at a bar near her house. She had to buy me a few drinks before she could convince me that it would be fun to go to the mall. Man alive, did she get it wrong. We go to Lenox Mall, a ritzy marble tiled mall, where none of us are welcome. And for whatever reason there were sales and clearances abound, and you know women. We were supposed to be there for only a couple of hours at the most before resuming our Saturday. It turned into four, and she wasn’t done. When she said she wanted to go to the MAC store I had finally lost my grip. I needed drink; solid and strong. And many. I went up stairs to pay lots of many for overpriced drinks. But this is Atlanta and they rob you anywhere, and you’ll thank them anyway for it in the end. After all, who’s doing who the favor? After several Jamesons, which I’m sipping as I write this, I wondered openly about the many fruits suspended in a clear liquid in a huge glass jug on the bar. The barkeep told me it was some fruity martini concoction. Eeegad, the rich even have their own version of hunch-punch! Why must they take everything? And inflate the prices? I had three. Why not? My money is just as good as the rich’s to the bartender, just as my money is just as worthless to me as it is to the rich. I couldn’t taste it. Not as drunk as I was. Not after that much Jameson. However, I declared it the most fantastic drink ever on this Earth, and immediately ran down to tell Emily. We agreed to meet in thirty minutes at a particular oaken bench. I was late, she was angry. I was drunk and promised she would soon be too, if she would just take my hand. Back we went. I bought her the drink. She informed me that it was awful. I bought her another. I needed to be certain. She confirmed the second time too.

Then on I bought her whatever her heart desired. We were beginning to have fun, finally. The day was saved! No. I remember we did get into an argument. I don’t remember over what. There’s no telling with the two of us. I slapped her. I was out of control. The people in the bar all turned to look. She became angry with me. Like an angry mother that can quiet the whole room. No man would come to defend her. It was unnecessary. You could tell that just by looking at her. A blind man could see it. She ordered me to take her home. I apologized all the way to the car. She wouldn’t speak to me. She sat down in the passenger seat and slumped with her foot pressed against the windshield. I’m a good city-driver, but I am not a graceful one. I make 90 degree lane changes in small openings and follow within inches, gas it if there is more than foot of space, and I brake only when absolutely necessary. Emily has never been comfortable with my driving. And this journey back to her apartment proved too much for her. I was slow (seemingly) to brake behind a stopped SUV, she tensed her leg. It was enough to crack my windshield with her foot. This surprised the both of us. She apologized. I said, no, don’t worry about it. I deserved it.

I took her home. And then drove back to Athens. This is an hour away and I was fretfully wasted on alcohol. I often said to friends I should do an editorial on the local news to let everyone know that if they were on these particular roads the night or day before they should really get down on their knees and thank God he had spared them, for I was on the road that day or night. And I was in a state that could easily allow me to be a useful tool of the Lord. And He spared them. That’s right, folks. Don’t hate me for me my drinkin’ and drivin’, for I am but a tool for the Lord to teach teenagers the horrors of drinking and driving, to teach you, possibly, that you took your loved one’s life for granted. And you’ll always regret that the last thing you told them, was “bring back eggs.”

Say your prayers, people. Be kind to your fellow man, for I am out there. I am God’s Wrath.

Whatever. When I got back I could not sleep. I told my room mates I had hit Emily Windham. The only reason they had not turned me away was because of how pathetic I looked. This was, after all, the second time I’d hit a woman. And a woman I loved, no doubt. I was a sad sappy sucker.

I called her the next day. She said we should just forget about it, but she made no effort to hide her utter disappointment. I hung up, felt like shit, and sat down at my computer to email somebody something. I noticed a bruise on the index finger of my left hand. There were actually four. Small ones. Two on the back and two on the palm, or inside of the finger. Memory came flooding back. And I laughed and laughed.

I called Emily back. “Do you remember what happened before I slapped you?” She said, no, and in an unsure way. I asked another question, “Do you remember biting the holy fuck out of my finger at the bar?” She didn’t say anything. It was coming back to her, as well. In arguing my left hand wondered to her face. Not an uncommon thing, we are often touchy-feely with one another. She took it in her mouth and gnashed down. I went with my right to push against her face to get my finger out of her mouth. Not thinking “face” or “my hand hitting against it”, mind you, put to quickly react and use my right for leverage to get my left hand out of a vice-grip.

Since you know how this one ends too, I’ll cap it off by saying she apologized and now wishes to repay me for my windshield.

And what I’d like to say to that future soul mate o'mine, and this is probably needless since you’re smarter than me, love, don’t fucking bite me. Just don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. So, please, unless it’s love bites on the neck, which I’m sure is this insanely cute thing between us, don’t fuck with me, cuz I don’t know what I’ll do. And in the end it’s just going to be your fault anyway. You’re too smart for this bullshit, so just leave it alone. Now let's make out.

tune in next time for "cute face, gorgeous titties: two things i thought i'd never come to hate"
part three "wherein the narrator finally gets to the goddamn point and we can hear 'bout them titties, and we can finally get a new title"