June 7, 2005

Stream of Consciousness and an MP3 (maybe)

So I was going to post an MP3 by Sleater-Kinney, who are one of my favorite bands, except that their new cd doesn't affect me in the way their previous ones have, but I'm on dialup here at home and it's taking eons for the damn thing to upload to the school's server. The dialup here is slower than a grandma behind the wheel, it's so terrible you have no idea.

After waiting for what seemed to be an eternity I figured I would write a post in one go, stream-of-conscious style, while I'm waiting. Not that I particularly enjoy the stream-of-conscious type of writing, but someone on my LJ buddy list did one while writing procrastinating a paper on Joyce so I figured I'd give it a go, even though I'll probably do it wrong. I think I like using the word procrastinating as a verb. The song I'm trying to post is one of three or four on the album that I really like. I'll probably find the lyrics and post them once the song is done uploading. That is, if it's ever done uploading. The lyrics don't correllate directly to what I'm feeling, but there's a definite vibe that matches up with what I'm feeling at the moment, prickly guitars and urgent hushed voices. Goddamnit why hasn't it loaded yet?

I always thought that blogging shouldn't be an alternative to therapy. Sure it's good to get things down on the page, sure it's cathartic, but it doesn't beat one of those ugly couches and an obnoxiously large bill. I'm not paying you to deal with all my shit. Hell this afternooon I read a book by Biz Stone about blogging that said the same thing; I should know better. But really, now that things with Heart have broken down, all I want is for my ex, the one who's usually referred to as the Ex though when he guestblogged for me during Spring Break he told you his name (Peter) to come back and date me again. Dating him was one of the happiest points in my life. Hell, I just want to talk to him. Both he and Heart know of this blog, and read it on occasion, so this is probably some sort of passive-aggressive way of letting him know to drop me a line if he's interested. I don't know how they keep so nonchalant; I know that if either of them had a blog I'd be checking it daily, but that's because I'm a Leo and I think everything is about me. When Heart said that I didn't make him feel desired, that was really shocking to me, because I always thought that I could make a guy feel wanted. I'm a modest guy, and am rare to toot my own horn but even I'm willing to admit to being a pretty damn good boyfriend. I mean, I once made a scrapbook of our relationship for Peter's birthday, filling with it poems I wrote, the lyrics to our song(s), some art done by my friends inspired by us the couple, snapshots of us, and stuff like that.

Oh my goodness Peter just logged on AIM this second. I wonder if it's a sign from above that I should talk to him, or a sign that he usually works the late shift. Maybe I should IM him... ah hell I won't. The last thing I need right now is to find out that my first relationship, the one I've idealized in my head for so long, was all just in my head, and in fact I am a bad boyfriend. I doubt it, but there's the possibility. I was thinking earlier today that maybe I would ask him to guest blog a post sometime about whether or not I was a good boyfriend, but quickly realized what a bad idea that was. It's just asking for trouble, and would put him in all sorts of awkward positions, and I can't guarantee that his answer would be good for my psyche. And I'm all for indulging my psyche at the moment.

Goddamnit I'm getting sick of waiting for the damn thing to load. It's a good song and all, but I don't know if it's worth waiting the twenty minutes or whatever for is for it to load.

Fuck it I'll just wait and try again tomorrow. I mean later today, since I always write posts late at night, and it's just turned midnight. Oh well. Sorry to bore you like that.
Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.