Posts tagged with "pieces of me"

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We were watch­ing Boogie Nights, and in the movie, Scotty’s wast­ed at the New Year’s par­ty. He tries to kiss Dirk, but Dirk throws him off. I asked her if she knew Scotty was gay. Until that point, I thought he nev­er gave off any such sign.

“Of course”, she said.

“How could you tell?”. I had to ask, because I could­n’t tell. I’ve watched Boogie Nights with dozens of peo­ple before, and they’ve all asked if Scotty was gay before it even got to this scene. It must have been the 20th time I’ve seen this movie, but I still did­n’t see what so many oth­ers did. My gay­dar can’t be that bad, I thought to myself.

“Just from the way Scotty looks at Dirk all dreamy”.

Dreamy? So Scotty was­n’t being par­tic­u­lar­ly flam­boy­ant, he was sim­ply attract­ed to Dirk. It was obvi­ous to every­one but me.

Then I recalled Pat telling me a few years ago that a cer­tain girl liked me. He did­n’t have some kind of inside knowl­edge, he said he could tell just from the way she looked at me. I nev­er believed him, of course, because I had no inkling of such an mes­sage. I nev­er believed him until she gave me a writ­ten con­fes­sion.

It made me won­der, am I that obliv­i­ous? More impor­tant­ly, do I ever give myself away, do I ever make myself so vul­ner­a­ble, with such a look?

It took me almost a year to be com­fort­able enough to pho­to­graph Jenn (let alone get­ting over being so tongue-tied around her), because I was afraid of being too trans­par­ent. I always thought that by ask­ing to take her pic­ture, every­one could see how attract­ed I was to her. I would go around Aaron’s par­ties and pho­to­graph any­one but her. Now I real­ize that in doing so, I prob­a­bly gave myself away.

It’s scary to think that peo­ple may read me so eas­i­ly from sub­con­scious body lan­guage. A girl­friend once said that her mom asked how she would feel if I asked her out, about a month before I did. To this day I won­der how her mom knew I would. All we did was have din­ner togeth­er on Sunday’s. Did I steal glances from across the table? Did I look away when she looked at me? Did I lose myself in her face and stare?

Am I that trans­par­ent?

I’d like to think that I can hide such things, but how can I when I don’t even rec­og­nize what it is I’m doing.

How can I hide my heart, when I don’t even know that I wear it on my sleeve?

Television Dreams

Short and sweet.

I’ve been falling sleep with the TV on late­ly. Discovery chan­nel, trashy tabloids, com­mer­cials every quar­ter hour. The con­stant chat­ter keeps me com­pa­ny the way old movies on DVD can’t. It’s like the world nev­er sleeps. Someone else is awake, and watch­ing the same thing as me.

It’s one of the things I like so much about you. If you hide that, you’re hid­ing the best part.

The lit­tle girl was tak­en to Humber River Regional Hospital, and lat­er trans­ferred to the Hospital for Sick Children, where she was diag­nosed with what police call “a sig­nif­i­cant brain injury”.

The J is like an H Ricky, Hal-a-peen-yo

This is live.

Sometimes I wake up with a song in my head that I may not own, or even par­tic­u­lar­ly like. Sometimes I wake up know­ing some news before I read it on my lunchtime break. Sometimes my dreams will take off in a strange direc­tion, and I’ll be cook­ing some­thing com­pli­cat­ed or unload­ing auto­mat­ics through house win­dows or fuck­ing some­one I’d nev­er have a chance with in real-life.