What if I threw the typewriter overboard?

At some point in the past few weeks I read the book Cosmopolis by Don Delillo.  It did not take long to read as it is a relatively short book however there were many things about it I did not understand.  I never before read a book by this author but when I saw David Cronenberg crafted the movie adaptation I knew I needed to read it.  I hitchhiked over to Barnes and Noble Booksellers and purchased the copy with the movie image on the cover.  I hate editions of books featuring the movie image but whenever I am purchasing a book I may not have otherwise known about were it not for the filmic version I always snag those editions so I may constantly be reminded of my ignorance and inadequacies.  Despite the fact that I didn’t really like the book I rented the blu ray yesterday or the day before and watched the flick on a television set I was given for Christmas.  Halfway through I regretted renting it and wished I had simply purchased it instead.  The movie was mesmerizing and I could not take my eyes off it.  It tickled all the dank and dark corridors of my brain while deepening my appreciation of the source text.  There were still long passages which flew right over my head like a flock of seagulls on a migratory trajectory yet these were somehow more palatable when accompanied by Cronenberg’s gaudy digital visuals and Howard Shore’s and Metric’s musical accompaniment.  Robert Pattinson was mesmerizing and the supporting cast equally up to task.  How I wished Juliette Binoche would have slipped off those high heels yet there was also great pleasure in my being denied this wish.  I watched the movie 14 times in a row while drinking 11 red bulls, 1 five-hour energy drink and two spicy chicken sandwiches which I’d procured at Carl’s Jr. and saved in my refrigerator for just such an occasion.  I have little doubt that once the movie is in my possession I will have a similar marathon.  Finally, the first film about our new millennium. 

The BBC version of Pride and Prejudice figured prominently in my dreams slash nightmares two nights ago though the actors looked nothing like their real-life counterparts much to my chagrin [I had a substantial crush on the lead female actress while in high school, the crush was so serious that at one point I considered slicing off my own face and mailing it to my fourth grade pen-pal whose old letters and address I still had (we would discuss Australia and Sonic the Hedgehog comic books) just to take my mind off things].  In this dream my French teacher was a beautiful French woman with long curly, dishwasher-blonde hair and butterscotch colored skin.  She had kind blue eyes and wore old, slightly tattered black tank-tops and green khaki pants with many pockets.  Her accent was adorable and she said comforting things.  I repeatedly disappointed her in many respects and this eventually drove me to frantic tears.  I ran several miles and woke up on a moving train before waking up once more in my bed where I promptly began to weep uncontrollably for this lovely woman whom I was unable to satisfy. 

In another dream that occurred the following night I encountered another French woman.  She looked completely different but was equally attractive.  Her hair was short and dark against pale skin and she wore nylons and was wild, fierce sexuality.  She reminded me of someone but I could not quite place who.  In this dream I looked like a strange combination of Matthew McConaughey and Josh Lucas and I wore a charcoal grey suit with black wing tips, a white undershirt and a red tie.  For some reason a man who looked astonishingly like Christopher Reeve though with unspeakable evil in his eyes was trying to kill me.  I know we grappled at some point and I believe he actually succeeded in stabbing with a very long and shiny knife – the type with a silver glistening handle and what you would probably find in a set adorning an island in most thoroughly modern kitchens – but somehow I was able to escape.  The French woman worked at a diner which had no walls and was located on a jungle area that surprisingly bordered a well-kept sidewalk.  I believe we were intimate at one point and I do remember developing some rather strong feelings for her.  I cannot recall her name and this hurts though I suspect I shall be seeing her again at some point. 

Jane’s Addiction truly is a great band and I have fallen in love with them recently.  I've even gone so far as to listen to them in my car while driving.  Eric Avery is one of my favorite bassists and I have tried with repeated and expected failure to learn as many of their songs as possible

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I never knew opera could be so sexy.  There are many things I do not know about life and about my immediate surroundings.  When she smiled I did not know how to respond so I looked away.  The moment was too lovely and I was violently yanked from my comfort zone.  Who else has consumption related dreams?  We’re all consumers after all.  Oh, the almighty dollar, we are slaves to you.  Yet I do not speak of that type of consumption, do I?  I don’t think I do.  But that is how I always know whether it is real or not, whether there is love or only cheap sticky lust.  It is only when I am devoured that I know it is someone who owns my heart and soul.  And from then on I will always long to feel myself crumble and break before and within them.  And then afterward they will comfort me and tell me it is all okay. 

Today I was singing and using the lower register of my five octave voice.  It was a good cleansing feeling and I began to feel some type of spiritual reluctance give way.  I wanted to succumb but there was still something holding me back.  Whose permission do I need to be able to think of her as her?  Please, whoever it is, please give it to me.  I am a bad man.  I could feel her and I could almost see her yet I still wondered about the nature of these feelings.  Even as she kissed my lips I could still not ascertain the color of her eyes or the thoughts that lay behind them. 

I know recently I began an elaborate question and answer session inside my head but I had to abruptly stop when I realized with no small amount of horror that I no longer recognized the voice asking the questions.