beauty and the beast I

I wanted to write a story on my Targus Bluetooth Keyboard paired to my Galaxy Nexus. It's a less used setup, but likely to become more permanent  due to my laptop / SSD getting busted. What would make a good story? Hard to tell, but it must be something that will write itself; otherwise, I'll have too many double letters and typos left uncorrected.

happier bathroom days

(...) She wants to know "why" and I have no answer for her. She’s crying and her legs can no longer support her. I tried to help her up, but she stubbornly collapses on the bathroom floor in a tempest of sobs and suspirations. There is now on the bathroom floor a chaotic amalgam of blond hair, long legs and tears and I look at all this with the respectful distance of an art collector. Within my beastly sadism there still are some shreds of compassion, so before the meltdown becomes irreversible, I collect all  her visible DNA off the bathroom floor and take it all, in my arms, to bed. "You're a MONSTER!!!" she exclaims, but the words take a new meaning when punctuated by a somewhat hopeful smile. Her sobs decrease in frequency  and as I lay her on the bed, she even seems to take a comfortable position, on her back. Alas, "rape" is not part of my love vocabulary, even when "consensual". And her suffering is so beautiful and heartbreaking, that ending it with lovemaking would be a sacrilegious desecration of our sunsetting luv. She is a live sarcophagus of our unrealized feelings. Her pain vindicates mine, and though I could never, in a million years, explain to her my feelings and pain, I find a strange sensation of solidarity and possibly schadenfreude in watching her disintegrate. I still love her, but it's now clearer than ever that we'll never be together, that we won't get married, that we'll never make anxiety-prone babies with big green eyes and complex overlaps of selfishness and incredibly diluted survival skills. Most of all, it's clear that I had developed a dangerously sick case of Ruby Sparks delusion, except that my chimera did not come to life, she was already real and stubbornly different. Her crisis is a grand funeral of love lost.


We had met at a strange party thrown by a common friend who now lives in Paris. I lost contact with our common friend, last I've heard she was married and had a taboo diagnostic, but back then, she was just a brunette beauty with a fresh, wide and innocent smile. She had a house warming party somewhere in Mississauga and when I showed up, I was surprised to find only men there. Many men and some strange Russian woman. I started mingling, but my attention was naturally drawn toward this tall blonde dancing completely out of sync to whatever music was playing.  She seemed to be on drugs, but when I asked her (or others, can't remember) what's her poison of choice I was told that she wasn't on drugs, that was just the way she was. I tried dancing with her, but she was so hopelessly arhythmical and transfixed that I lost interest and moved on to another conversation. She seemed peeved off by my lack of interest, and a few minutes later, she came straight to me and asked me point blank to give her a ride home. The night was young and the party was just getting started (it was probably 10-10:30 pm) and even though there were no women other than the brunette Romanian hostess and the blonde Russian, I thought her request was improper and besides, my initial purpose for going to that party, all the way in freakin' Mississauga, in the boonies, was to check out the hostess, whom I thought may have liked me and I wasn't sure myself if I liked her. Her party was supposed to be a moment of clarity, the great revealer, sort of. But(t) the Russian was not a quitter. From the moment I dumped our conversation so unceremoniously, she followed me like a hawk. It was both flattering and somewhat weird. I was going around talking to strangers about the G-spot, about love and about life and she'd follow me from distance, while I was pretending I didn't notice. It seemed as if she wasn't accustomed to hear "NO", which was more of a reason to provide  her with a valuable life lesson. Time flew as it usually does when you feel good, and being generous, I decided to take pity on this blonde soul, especially since the hostess was nowhere to be found and didn't seem to be around and when she was, she kinda ignored me. (continued)