Parrot is freaking out again.
She constantly shreds the newspaper in her cage and chews on her wooden toys. She is typically a quiet bird, but now she becomes agitated at the sound of traffic outside and she screams. She knocks her beak against hard surfaces. Knock…knock…knock. Her eyes pinpoint and dilate, pinpoint and dilate.
I don’t try to touch her. Usually she can’t get enough head scratches from me…but now I think that she’d hurt me.
I think she’s going to lay an egg again.
Parrot is lonely. Parrot needs a boyfriend. Parrot has sexual urges which torture her.
I feel you, Parrot. I really do.
Aside from the basketball player and the Navy crewman I picked up in the bar with my girlfriend, I have had no sexual experiences since Abduction Weekend. Abduction Weekend was a hell of a ride, but I had no sex before that since the Mathematician. My sex life sucks and I feel like I’m losing my mind. I have primordial biological impulses that are not being satisfied. This is making me miserable. The only positive thing to come out of it is that I’ve been going to the gym every day to burn off the anxiety caused by the tension.
It’s almost time for Final exams and I can’t even grade papers. That is how sexually frustrated I am (and Oh God, if my students’ parents ever read this, I will be canned for certain….oh dude, put that on my RateMyProfessors profile!). Believe me, my students’ weekly 3-page essays are the most unerotic readings in the universe. I still can’t concentrate. I have to keep taking breaks to jump into bed. I have weird dreams at night and I’m changing the sheets twice a week because I sweat and I’m the only one sleeping in my bed. I want to burn my computer chair. It’s fucking disgusting, what that computer chair has seen. I keep scrubbing it with fabric cleaner and Fabreeze, I have such a guilty conscience, it’s like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe story…instead of The Tell-Tale Heart, it’s The Tell-Tale Computer Chair.
It really says something when I’m looking forward to getting manhandled by some European tourist–a European tourist! In a sweater! A turtlenecked sweater!–this weekend because nobody’s laid their hands on me in forever.
Yup! Just me and Parrot, freaking out in our stupid little apartment with our sad little Christmas Tree! Two sad females in the Lonely Hearts Club!
At least the bird doesn’t have a choice. She has an excuse. There are no Senegal Parrots flying free around Manhattan.
I watch UFC fights constantly in my free time. I can’t stand meatheads and I object to violence on an intellectual level, but I become very excited watching the men fight. I imagine that one of them was me (the loser, of course). I imagine how helpless I would be. I have experienced enough violence at the hands of men to be afraid of them. The fear is mixed with awe.
Terror and awe. Pain and awe. Idolization. Worship. Service.
waiting waiting waiting