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Thursday, 7 February 2013

A sham

I had a dream last night where a stranger played the role of EBF as a fool in a pyramid scheme. There were him, another lad who'd had about enough of the scheme and their "boss," telling them to sell their stock. They'd apparently done this before and the apathetic young man had a "Fine. I'll sell my stock but this is the last I'll ever hear of this" attitude. For me, wherever and whoever I was in this dream, it was all the proof I needed to be sure it was a scam.

Since I spoke with HaE, the most fun professor around these parts, yesterday afternoon I walked out with a tune in my head:

A#-A-A#-G-G x2 C#-C-C#-A#-A#x2
What a sweet old man x4

If I had anything more to go on and could be any quicker identifying the notes in my head with real ones (my method was humming to myself in the bus, trying to match sounds and notes) I might have considered writing a tiny scene for a musical. Or perhaps not.

I've been calling out LesMisGuy's name out loud a lot this morning. Related? I spoke with CtThumbe last night. She'll have to excuse my not respecting her privacy very much, but I have a point I want to make. She was telling me about the guy she was seeing and how it all ended with a "Sorry, I need sex." It hit me like a bucket of cold water (even though I may have contemplated the idea before): what if that's what went through LesMisGuy's head? I certainly showed him the more prudish side of my sexually liberated prude self. While part of me says "I wanted nothing to do with him anyway if all he wanted was to get laid" another part says "but what if all he wanted was knowing he'd get some eventually?" This gets beat down with a "He didn't go for eventually and I suppose I didn't hint at it either" which ends in a "but still..." The only result of all these thoughts rushing through my mind are "I feel like a piece of meat flaming bag of poop."

Meanwhile, here in Wildstone University, the closest I've come to human contact and a love life came unexpectedly today in the form of an old man vagabond who approached me from behind as I waited for the bus. He tapped my shoulder, spoke in mumbles a bit too close to me for comfort and asked what colour my eyes were, asking me to look into his eyes. I wasn't afraid of him, I suppose however uncomfortable he made me he was still in the realm of "sweet, mentally unstable and down on his luck old man" who incidentally didn't have any smell that I could pick up on. He asked if I was German, pointed out my eyes are hazel and asked me what I was doing this weekend (as in: asking me out, I gather), ending with a "see you again" (or something along those lines" as I got on the bus. 

It seems just like the sort of thing I'd remember, just the sort of thing I'd bother noticing and just the sort of thing to happen to me. Nine years ago today I got my first kiss.

Where are my manners? Special thanks to CtThumbe for teaching me a little physics even though she was ready to go to sleep. Special thanks to CtThumbe for being lovely and easy to relate to. Special thanks to CtThumbe because I like to call her "friend."

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