(untitled)
I want to apologize for that last post. I’m not sure to who, but bear with me, I’m going somewhere, I think.
I meant to write a staggering piece on the beauty of a simple look and it’s ability to communicate, to take hold, to inspire. Instead in an immature fit of sexual frustration mingling with guilt and self-hate I spewed forth the disgraceful soliloquy in question. I have since relieved myself in many ways including a shower and some much needed sleep and sobering up and my thoughts now are, if not clearer, at least more open.
I’m ashamed of what I wrote because it belongs in that category of things one may think but one should never voice. And yet I can’t bring myself to delete it. It is self-destructive, obnoxious and not very good writing. But it is cruelly honest. And it is me.
So as much as it’s been pestering me and festering at the back of my mind since I hit that fateful publish button, I’m going to resist the aching urge to delete it. I guess what this means is that in the end, I’m doing this for me.
I’m apologizing for being so unkind and careless with myself, for allowing a couple of online strangers to see it and for generally being a shit writer with stupidly good intentions, an overactive imagination and a shamefully high sex drive.
Of course, I can’t promise there isn’t more where that came from as I’m sure we’ve only just skimmed the surface. But there might be some good stuff coming from somewhere deep down below, too.
Yes. It’s there. I promise not to relent until I find it.
15 July 2007 at 5:24 pm
I am probably a fine one to say this, knowing my tendency towards apologising, over-apologising and then apologising some more, but never apologise for posts. After all, if you are not writing for yourself, then there really is no point to it. Words are sometimes as ugly and harsh as they can be beautiful and evocative.
15 July 2007 at 5:43 pm
I’ve been doing a lot of apologizing lately, haven’t I?
I know what you’re saying but I felt like I had to let you know that I know this is ugly. You know?
And in so doing, forgive myself for letting myself down. Or something.
15 July 2007 at 5:51 pm
Well, if you can’t write ugly things on your own blog, where can you?
Let’s be honest. The ugliness is where reality starts. That’s what helps us to connect to others, knowing we aren’t quite the freaks of nature we thought we were. It’s where connection begins.
Happy blogs are boring.
Lastly, you’re a human. You’re fully entitled to the full range of emotions and experiences associated with that.
I don’t think you offended anyone.
15 July 2007 at 6:03 pm
Soulless, welcome. And you’re right, happy blogs ARE boring.
I just feel like there is beautifulsexydamaged and then there is just sadpsychodamaged. More than offending anyone I’m afraid of crossing that line.
15 July 2007 at 11:08 pm
Don’t delete it, I liked it, it was honest and raw and as for a line to cross, we draw those for ourselves.
And I love ‘looks’. And anyway, just maybe he doesn’t know what he’s missing….
15 July 2007 at 11:38 pm
Isabelle, thanks. You’re extremely perceptive.
I’m not actually that interested in him, though. I was more taken in by the idea of this extremely evocative look and wanted to post about it half decently. It just didn’t work out that way.
27 July 2007 at 12:00 am
ani, i will not accept your apology for this post, and neither should you. it’s fucking perfect in its rawness. really. thanks for not deleting.
27 July 2007 at 12:18 am
Tara, welcome and thanks for your supportive words. It was a momentary lapse (the apology, not the post), and thankfully, I think it has passed.