morrigirl | Escapism

I really shouldn't be allowed into any bookstore in this city. Metal detectors should sound the minute I step through the doors, and the security guards should throw me out on my ass for the sole purpose of saving me money. I bought two more books today. Two more and I haven't even deposited my paycheck yet. I am a naughty Carla. This is the crux of my budgeting problems. Life would be manageable if I didn't have to read so damn much. But...what can I say? I'm on a fiction kick, and not just ficiton but mindless I-don't-have-to-use-my-brain-to-enjoy-this fiction. I just finished reading "Exquisite Corpse" by

docbrite. Other Mike brought her to my attention last summer when he lent me his copy of "Lost Souls." It was totally not the sort of thing I'd pick up on my own. Homo-erotic vampire ficition, not really my thing. But it was a quick and gorific read, and I rather liked it. It had been a long time since I'd read any senseless horror novels. So having just finished two very bad first novels by authors who obviously took their work way too seriously, I recalled the name Poppy Z. Brite, and decided "Exquisite Corpse" should be the next book I devoured.

On the whole I liked it, however I would have liked it more if it hadn't started witht he main character breaking out of jail by willing his heart to stop and faking his death. The whole idea was so absurd I had to fight really hard not to abandon the story right then and there. If she'd just started the book a little later, after the main character had busted out of jail it may have been a bit more believable. Either way, it was silly, it was gross, there was a lot of gay male sex, it was great escapist literature.

So, I finished "Exquisite Corpse" last night, and really wanted another

docbrite book to read so I went out to Barnes and Noble and bought "Drawing Blood." And being the hopeless browser that I am, wandered over to the sociology section and picked up a collection of essays about the misappropriation of black culture by white america, called "Everything but the Burden."

I'm such a book whore. Why can't I learn how to use the library like a normal human being? Why do I horde books the way dragons horde gold? Okay Carla, you've got 175 bucks in your savings account and roughly 1K worth of bills that must be paid by the end of the month, repeat after me, NO MORE BOOKS! NO. MORE. BOOKS!

I've been staying at my mother's all week. A new family has moved into one of the apartments on the D line. Said family contains an extremely attractive 20-something young man whose bedroom window looks directly into our kitchen. He is tall, pale, and hairless. He loafs around the living room underlining passages in books, and typing on his laptop so I can only assume he's a student. There's no curtain on his wondow, so these last few nights I've caught him getting ready for bed, stripping down to his boxers, stretching his arms above his head before turning out the lights. He's absolutely delicious.

Reminds me of freshman year when I used to watch

keyofd from our suite window. Ah yes, like everyone else on the planet I had a great big crush-from-afar on Dan and that long curly hair of his. Honed in on him during orientation and spent the rest of the year hoping I'd have a class with him. Alas, it was not to be. At any rate, I remember a particular night towards the end of spring term that I walked into the Raub 3 suite and found all the lights out. It was close to 3 AM, I don't know why I was awake, but the rest of the floor was asleep, and the darkness was so comforting I didn't bother turning any of the lights back on. That was around the time I was being tortured by Clark, so I'm guessing I was brooding that evening. I pulled a chair up to one of the darkened windows, sat down, folded my arms on the windows sill, and lowered my chin onto them. I just felt like staring out onto the empty quad. But it wasn't quite empty. Across the way in Sherwin-Neifert sat a solitary Dan hunched over the table studying several sheets of paper. The flourescent light that showered him struck me as especially harsh that evening, it didn't do his hair justice. Dan gave me a point of focus, so I just sat and watched him. I even wrote a poem about it. It was all very zen, being able to watch my object of desire without being seen, feeling that want well up in me and not being able to do anything about it. Eventually

dpsycho emerged from their bedroom. The two exchanged a few words and then both retired for the evening. Yes I know it all sounds weird and stalkerish, but it felt so simple. So normal.

I seem to enjoy watching people from windows. Even more so I think I get some sort of perverse pleasure from denying my sexual urges. I see something I want, I crave it, I lust after it, and I do nothing to get it. I just watch and wish. And I want so badly but I push that want out of the way. It's a delicious little tease, something to keep me occupied until the real thing comes along. But the real thing is rarely ever real. It's temporary, it fades. But the fantasy! The fantasy never loses its appeal.