That's Not The Right Ending
I finished The Beautiful Lie- and now I hate Australians.
Vronsky cheats on Anna. For a few minutes I was inconsolable. I think I loved his love for Anna more than I have ever loved anything in my life, and I was devastated by an interpretation in which that love was jeopardized. A world where that love is broken.
So I hate Australians because it was an Australian adaptation. It was very good up until that point. The fake Vronksy was very handsome, although a career as a music producer was a little lame and not nearly as competitive as the original plan of climbing to military prestige. But he was handsome, in a pouty gaunt way- in skinny jeans and jean jackets over hoodies with shoulder length hair and a warm smile.
I realized in watching the show that I would like to be an actress. I'd like to fall in love over and over again on my own terms. Knowing that the emotions were fake, that it would all end, that I could pick the story to some extent. Maybe I'll take some acting classes...at the very least it might help me be a little less awkward at parties. It'll be another bit of interesting that I gloss around when people chatter. I'm so so boring in person...and probably just as boring in writing, but I always feel a little better about my voice here.
I can own my honesty here.
I have started playing with some ideas. I've started working out plot lines. Researching. There's an inkling of progress. I wonder if I will get enough together to film something before I move.
I also wonder if this blog is a total boner killer. I have realized recently, after a few Tinder trials, that I am the Taylor Swift of shitty unpopular blogs. If I knew my fuck ups and bad sex would be forever recorded on the internet I wouldn't want to date me, let alone fuck me. Who needs the baggage of someone obsessed with Anna Karenina, Hannibal and their cheating ex? I should probably be honest and make that question the description on my dating profile, followed by the statement that being this crazy does not make me good in bed. "Obsessed with Anna Karenina, Hannibal, her ex and tragic love in general. Does not know how to work a penis. May not truly know what is a penis."
I'm actually a little pissed that I feel obligated to add blow-jobs to my casual sex repertoire. I treat casual sex the way I treat casual dress- you, my partner, are the sweatpants of my life and I don't intend to dress this up with a sequined top. I am here to get cozy for a bit, not try because I don't care about you, and sling you off when I am ready to go to bed. I mean, I'll ride it- I'll be grinding on that wood, riding on that surfbort, but that's because that's what I want to do. I don't want to casually do things I don't want to do just so I can increase my chances of getting another bad lay with the same guy for a bit of regularity. "Anna Karenina and Hannibal did not have to give head." Although, I guess Hannibal did eat brain- it's called that sometimes, right? Am I making that up? The kids say that, right? Like in rap songs? Rap songs about Hannibal Lecter's sex life?
It also recently occurred to me that if I don't have a baby in the next five years I'll be having a geriatric pregnancy. All I can say is that I really hope Rachel Bloom or Issa Rae writes a rap about that, because I don't feel clever enough to. "Sometimes you need to be the change you want to see in the world, and sometimes you recognize your limitations and leave it up to the professionals." - more dating profile descriptions. "I consider hitting my exes car every time I see it. I feel the same way about his new girlfriend's" "I'm five years away from a geriatric pregnancy" "I will never want you as much as the fictional character I made up based on you, but he and I are getting married in the next year, I need you to fill in the role" "I'll probably never be happy or satisfied"
You choose. They're all great blurbs.
"I think I'm allergic to my own hair and my tooth is rotting because the medicine that stops those thoughts makes me fat- I am okay with my choices" "I'm not sure how to shave my vagina"
Fuck, I'm a mess. At least I have had enough physical intimacy for now. I'm hoping to get through another couple of months before I have to hunt for cock again. The spring has ended and we have enough memories of meat to last the winter, I think, as long as it is not a harsh one.
"Thinks the next Batman should be Ben Kingsley. Is Ben Kingsley still alive?" "Did you know Ben Kingsley has been married 4 times?"
"My mother would be ashamed of my blog"
Vronsky cheats on Anna. For a few minutes I was inconsolable. I think I loved his love for Anna more than I have ever loved anything in my life, and I was devastated by an interpretation in which that love was jeopardized. A world where that love is broken.
So I hate Australians because it was an Australian adaptation. It was very good up until that point. The fake Vronksy was very handsome, although a career as a music producer was a little lame and not nearly as competitive as the original plan of climbing to military prestige. But he was handsome, in a pouty gaunt way- in skinny jeans and jean jackets over hoodies with shoulder length hair and a warm smile.
I realized in watching the show that I would like to be an actress. I'd like to fall in love over and over again on my own terms. Knowing that the emotions were fake, that it would all end, that I could pick the story to some extent. Maybe I'll take some acting classes...at the very least it might help me be a little less awkward at parties. It'll be another bit of interesting that I gloss around when people chatter. I'm so so boring in person...and probably just as boring in writing, but I always feel a little better about my voice here.
I can own my honesty here.
I have started playing with some ideas. I've started working out plot lines. Researching. There's an inkling of progress. I wonder if I will get enough together to film something before I move.
I also wonder if this blog is a total boner killer. I have realized recently, after a few Tinder trials, that I am the Taylor Swift of shitty unpopular blogs. If I knew my fuck ups and bad sex would be forever recorded on the internet I wouldn't want to date me, let alone fuck me. Who needs the baggage of someone obsessed with Anna Karenina, Hannibal and their cheating ex? I should probably be honest and make that question the description on my dating profile, followed by the statement that being this crazy does not make me good in bed. "Obsessed with Anna Karenina, Hannibal, her ex and tragic love in general. Does not know how to work a penis. May not truly know what is a penis."
I'm actually a little pissed that I feel obligated to add blow-jobs to my casual sex repertoire. I treat casual sex the way I treat casual dress- you, my partner, are the sweatpants of my life and I don't intend to dress this up with a sequined top. I am here to get cozy for a bit, not try because I don't care about you, and sling you off when I am ready to go to bed. I mean, I'll ride it- I'll be grinding on that wood, riding on that surfbort, but that's because that's what I want to do. I don't want to casually do things I don't want to do just so I can increase my chances of getting another bad lay with the same guy for a bit of regularity. "Anna Karenina and Hannibal did not have to give head." Although, I guess Hannibal did eat brain- it's called that sometimes, right? Am I making that up? The kids say that, right? Like in rap songs? Rap songs about Hannibal Lecter's sex life?
It also recently occurred to me that if I don't have a baby in the next five years I'll be having a geriatric pregnancy. All I can say is that I really hope Rachel Bloom or Issa Rae writes a rap about that, because I don't feel clever enough to. "Sometimes you need to be the change you want to see in the world, and sometimes you recognize your limitations and leave it up to the professionals." - more dating profile descriptions. "I consider hitting my exes car every time I see it. I feel the same way about his new girlfriend's" "I'm five years away from a geriatric pregnancy" "I will never want you as much as the fictional character I made up based on you, but he and I are getting married in the next year, I need you to fill in the role" "I'll probably never be happy or satisfied"
You choose. They're all great blurbs.
"I think I'm allergic to my own hair and my tooth is rotting because the medicine that stops those thoughts makes me fat- I am okay with my choices" "I'm not sure how to shave my vagina"
Fuck, I'm a mess. At least I have had enough physical intimacy for now. I'm hoping to get through another couple of months before I have to hunt for cock again. The spring has ended and we have enough memories of meat to last the winter, I think, as long as it is not a harsh one.
"Thinks the next Batman should be Ben Kingsley. Is Ben Kingsley still alive?" "Did you know Ben Kingsley has been married 4 times?"
"My mother would be ashamed of my blog"
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