Subj:

I wrote him something about Ramanujan... as well as some other stuff... when I got home. I know I said I stopped writing him. I lied. I mean, I did for a while...

It was... about Ramanujan and... other stuff and... I sent him a link to a video of one of my shows someone posted up... and I asked, well, mused, about whether he even received the e-mail... and he responded:

Subj: The woman who knew infinity

Yes I did get this. I can still call you tomorrow if you want. Let me know in the morning.

J

Don't Do It.

Okay.

Now I've just spent an hour reading WA essays from Atlantic Monthly and New Yorker each truly more fucking brilliant than the last, I am sitting here quite literally Ling O really L, and listening to interviews and I've half a mind to... write him an e-mail.

I will not.

I will not.

I will not do this.

NO, Scarlet, no, do not be a whore, ye who spoke so hypocritically over dinner about sex industry workers and their tragic fate. ye who are 24 years old. just fucking stop it.

okay.

ok.

Sigh.

Among top 5 moments shared w literary journalist/critic/essayist/ivyleague professor/awardwinning novelist W.A:

W.A. (re: Paul literally forgetting his wallet...) Yeah, that's, that's like saying you forgot your penis at home...

W.A's GF: (laugh laugh) We were at the Halloween store in NY, and he was going to get me something, and I was like Oh no, I'll pay for it, and he wouldn't let me, he was like, Don't, that's making my dick shrink...

S: HA!!! That's GREAT--

W.A's GF: All the salesgirls were like OMG!!!

P: What is this about?

W.A: Amanda wanted to pay for something and I told her my dick shrinks every time a woman says that...

S: God, I would've CLAPPED. Like, thank GOD. I mean, really, actually, like, MY dick shrinks every time a woman says that...

W.A: HA!!!!

bones-weary

I really need to just buck up and buy some real internet... It hasn't been working probably 75% of the time for the last week, and more than half over the entire last month... it worked for like 4 months perfectly...

So I'm sitting here at the Sbux online, blogging and doing homework, and I'm cold, and I'm so, so, exhausted, and I have to pee...

I ran six miles today, and walked back two more from where I ran... I've been ruminating a bunch... but also productive. I dunno. I'm shocked at that e-mail I sent. Clips:

"... it is a pressing matter, now, a matter of pressing up against myself, now.."

..."can I see what did that test say again can you show it tome please can you sit here please can I see it and can you sit next tome and can I sit over here now and can I sit on your lap too? in yourlap? on your lap? Omg, *PLEASE*?..."

"...anywhere in a bar or on a roof or we know how we feel about cars but I can think of worse ways to spend my time than trembling and screaming in Julian's Jag or really I can't think of a better way actually, I can't..."

"...I can't wait to see you though I don't want to see you in the middle of your day, no, not only the middle of yourday, outer limits too please, first thing in the morning or last thing at night, and twilight, and in the rain, and in the sun, and Allah youare so beautiful whenever you open that door my heart just drops downinto my shoes, I hate wearing shoes, I hate wearing shoes..."

"...that's if I can make eye-contact, which is difficult sometimes, because see, in my head, it's perpetually "the morning after." I want to um, justify that..."

Yeah. Yup. Yeah.

Re: Bam

Scarlet,

No sarcasm, will clarify.

Here is the link:

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/28/magazine/28depression-t.html?scp=4&sq=depression&st=cse


Julian Darcy, Ph.D.
4**** Ave., Suite ****
P****, ** *****
(000) 000-0000
www.drjdarcy.com
Julian@drjdarcy.com


---------------------------------

....and the clouds have lifted...... oh boy readingtime

Ohhhh yea. Ohhhh yea. Uhhhh-huh.

I'm exhausted. I'm drained.

If I wrote this hours ago, if I wrote this entry this evening, when I got home, and not after midnight after being talked down from the clouds by Elena, back into the stratosphere, I'd sound different... In fact, I think I wouldn'tve been able to write at all...

I left Julian's office today shaking. Elated, scared, crying, I couldn't even listen to music or drive to school, but I didn't know what else to do, so I drove to school, and got lost even though Julian's office and school and my house are within 5 minutes of each other. And I kept calling Elena because I was losing it but she wasn't picking up. I got to counseling and they had some issues with registration for one of my classes and I started shaking again, near tears, like, "I can't... I can't do this... I can't... FIND THIS CRAP RIGHT NOW!" And then, I had to semi-break up with a guy-who-thinks- thought-he-is-was-my-boyfriend, and then Elena called while he was over, and I was like, "Hey Dan it's Elena I really have to talk to her!!!" and let him walk out without saying good-bye and he gave me the dirtiest look and he was totally gob-smacked crestfallen and I am SUCH an asshole and this is why.

I woke up really early and I couldn't get back to sleep and my phone was just inexplicably dead, like CONKED, so I just got up and went and bought it a new battery and a new vocal mic for my music and some other crap and a Starbucks and then I got home with still like a good 5 hours before Julian, 5 hours in an leaky hourglass.

I knew what I wanted to talk to him about, kinda, I had questions planned out, and ideas, like I always do, and I wanted to record something with the new mic but planning my outfit became an operatic event. And I wanted to walk to Julian's and then school to get my daily 5 miles in (I'm kind of obsessed with my legs... they're naturally kinda muscular and always were when I was dancing ballet but then I got kinda skinny until I started working at the club again and now I work it out and wear shorts or skirts whenever possible, especially to see certain men... even in the winter... over panty-hose, anyway!) but then Father Time started shaking his sceptre and I was like Ok, Ok, S-O, you're gonna drive it's fine. So I found some really high shorts and panty-hose, and boots, and a top that was both womanly European feminine sophisticated and still with a handsome dip of cleavage, and I got in my little beater and made my way over there, getting whistled at and propositioned, and driving like a maniac, weaving through lanes, beautiful parking karma, made it, made it, made it.

I got in the waiting room and flicked his little light thingy. No noise. Two minutes. Two minutes late. My heart sank and I panicked. I feel like he's been doing that a lot lately. He used to come out 30 seconds after I showed up. I looked at my phone... I found a magazine with a cover story about something I knew he probably read or wanted to read... And then I saw him strolling into his office from the hallway and he waved.

He was dressed a little more casual today, no blazer, he looked a little breathless.

"Sorry I'm late!"

"No, no!"

.....

"How's your kitty doing?" I made sure to ask, so he'd see that I'm not, under normal circumstances, 100% self-absorbed all the time.

"Making progress," his smile lit up the goddamn zip-code.

"Ahhh, are you treating him?" He'd made a joke about his cat having psychological issues... so we joked about that... and then my cat... And then I brought out my opener:

"So... my blow-off list is getting really long... Florida guy wants to-- wanted to come over, I mean-- he IS coming over, and like, I just... I downright can't stand the guy anymore. I mean he's an idiot. Like... How could I not have seen it? He's like, borderline-retarded. I'm just NOT."

"Hey why don't you tell me how you really feel." J jokes. He's made that joke before when I'm ranting about some kangaroo I've been seeing for the free goodies.

And I started to talk about why it was so hard for me to say no to the duderz, not sexually, but like, that no I wasn't interested romantically, even though I wasn't, and being with someone I don't really like makes me really uncomfortable actually, and he got me to admit that I kinda liked the option of having people to pay for stuff, and he said, Okay, fair enough, and I said that sounds awful, that's terrible, and he said (and he quoted verbatim from an e-mail I sent him once about this writer we both like who thinks it's human nature for men to pay for sex) "What happened to 'Thank you, PINKER!'?"

"I know! I don't know... I guess that one year of Sunday school did its thing... Societal norms..."

"Well," he said, and he's starting to give his opinion more and more now, "I think, Buddhistically, sorry, but that maybe it's not Right Practice."

"I know. It's not."

"Did this guy leave yet?"

"No- maybe- I don't know- I was just thinking the same thing-" I pulled out my phone, "Should I just? What do I say?"

And now comes the part where J dictates How to Blow a Guy Off Without Being a Total Asshole about it, as I text. When Dan would respond, I'd show it to J, like a little kid, and he'd advise. And Dan called frantically like 5 times while I was there, and, and...

And then I started talking about being lonely, and Elena not returning my calls, and all the fake conversations at the club and the fact that I don't talk to a soul "except her... and you..." and how all I do all week is listen, listen, smile and laugh and feign interest and "I'm sure you can relate" and then I started crying, which I never do in front of him, but I couldn't help it, and he just said, "I think you're just saying you have to pay a price for solitude..." and then we just looked at each other silently, well, stared, and my heart made its way up my trachea, and I couldn't look at him, and then I looked at him, and he was looking at my legs, and I realized I'd been running my hands up and down them for probably 20 minutes, and my face flushed and he looked back at me and I realized my lips were parted and I caught my breath and looked away and then at him and sort of smiled and then away and then up and down him and then at the floor and his blue eyes were burning through me and it was like probably a whole minute that felt like forever like glorious, glorious, blazing forever.

Then he asked me about the YouTube link he sent me. (Last week, off-hand, at the end of an e-mail about some insurance thing... got me going. Really got me going.)

And then we talked about movies. I told him he has to see Lars and the Real Girl. I found myself describing the whole plot to him and then stopping myself and then he described a whole movie to me, a depressing movie, and then he said, and on that happy note! And, as always,

"Last thoughts?" and then, "I actually had something terribly important to say but I lost it so I guess it will have to wait till next time." Which is what I said a couple sessions back. ("Last thoughts?" "Yeah but... they're not like two-minute thoughts so, no...") And he got up and then he slowly turned back and said, "Well actually I was late so, we have two more minutes."

"Oh. Yes. I need my two minutes."

He sat back down and my phone buzzed again. "Florida guy?"

"Not during my two minutes!" I smacked the phone.

We looked at each other again.

"It's really beautiful outside today." I said.

"It is, I like this kind of weather."

"I get to wear shorts-"

"I've been meaning to say this, since we need to tell each other these things," Julian is saying and time again stood still because before I had time to fucking melt or scream or jump on him-- "Your makeup has run completely afoul."

My hands flew up to my face and I'm sure I was bright, neon, stop-light, fire-truck, sex-doll-mouth, First Aid cross, Coke can fucking RED, stained black (and white all over), "Oh! Oh, wow, yeah-"

"I didn't want you to leave without being aware of that."

FUCK.

And is he FUCKING with me??? Ugh, I'm a wreck. Wreck. He's fucking with me. He's like, really good, and I can't keep up with the innuendos, though I don't let it show too much, but, he's a goddamn psychologist, I'm sure it's obvious, but I like this game. I am game. He rifled through his planner.

"So we're on for Thursday at... noon?"

"Four."

"Four..." He stood up.

"Uh-huh." I stood up.

He stepped over to the door, and I stepped over to the door, and we said "Bye," in unison.

I must have sex with him. Like. Right now. Thursday. UGH. Oh god. And a bunch more shit happened today, but... it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all.