“Make my black heart sing
Through all the suffering”
I’m feeling conflicted, and yes, rather black-hearted at the moment. I should get some sleep, but I seldom make the right choices, so why start now?
My reality sucks. It really, sincerely sucks. I have literally NO real-world friends, they’re all online. I haven’t had sex since 2010, and I probably never will again. I haven’t had a boyfriend worth having since… ever. I leave my apartment as seldom as possible due to MCS; and also to the fact that I am unlovely at best, and the general public lets me know it. In subtle (and not-so-subtle) ways they let me know it very well. All of the time. You’d think at some point those lessons would stop, but they never do. Never-ever.
I reside with my grandmother, and when she ceases to live, not only will I be alone in the world, but my already extremely shoddy (below poverty level) life-style will become way more bleak. For now, we live on her social security and my SSI. When she is gone I will have a paltry life insurance policy – $10K – and my SSI is under $800/mo. My already poor quality of life will become destitute.
In order to distract myself from the bleakness of my existence, I bury myself in media. Movies, television, library books, music, and of course the internet. I busy my mind with this actor or film or that singer, band or album in order not to dwell too heavily on my discontent with the state of my reality. This coping mechanism worked when I was in foster care. A tale of a decent into madness (Pink Floyd… The Wall) kept me sane in that hellhole. It also worked after the house fire – Tracy Chapman and some more Pink Floyd – The Final Cut (man that is that one bleak motherfucker of an album, yet it is so very lovely) kept me tethered during that nightmare.
Alcohol curdles my stomach, it is intolerable to me, and hard drugs never grabbed me. Obsessing over celebrities, movies and albums has been my escape mechanism for most of my life… when I was 3 I had my very first crush on Bowser from Sha Na Na… a few years later when I was 6 or 7 it was Bo (John Schneider) from the Dukes of Hazzard. When I was I was 9 years old I discovered Sean Astin, and from there I discovered that wonderful section of the grocery store that contained the Teeny Bopper and the Heavy Metal mags. I had seen those mags before, when I was grabbing my beloved Archie comics, but I never gave a shit about them until I was 9 years old and Sean Astin was the cutest Goonie ever.
My tastes eventually changed and matured somewhat – I hope? – but here hasn’t been a day in my life since then where I wasn’t either excited or smitten over somebody in pop culture. Sometimes it’s just a flat out crush, but not always. There are plenty of artists who leave me stupefied with their brilliance, I sing their praises, but they are not sexually appealing. (Examples: Ray LaMontagne, Bryan Erickson, Scott Woodruff, and Mark Knopfler) But there’s always something… somebody… that I am occupying my mind with. Sometimes I think keeping my mind busy with mundane pop culture crap is what keeps me from being suicidal.
I’ve actually had people ask me, frankly, I think? – not cruelly, I hope! – why I am NOT suicidal, given the state of my shit-splattered life. I credit that at least partially to the fact that I am keeping my mind busy ALL DAY thinking about bands, music, certain tv shows, movies, celebrities, or the stories in library books. It is my defense mechanism. If I start to dwell on my own life, like I do when I work on this blog, I get depressive, petulant and sulky – which is part of the reason I post so sporadically. Usually after a bout of writing here I have to distract my mind fully whether it be with a video game, a library book, a movie, a rare cleaning spree, something.
I thought that having crushes on celebrities would be “safe”, because unlike real boys, they could not hurt me. I was wrong about that to some extent, but only because I am foolish…
Lately, even my escapes, my forays into pop culture distractions are pissing me off. This is not good! 😦
For example, I am HORRIBLY conflicted over the CW’s new show, based on the good old Archie comics of old, called Riverdale. On one hand, I guess I am an old-fashioned prig… I can deal with the fact that Reggie and Dilton are both Asian, (forgive me if that generalization is too broad, I don’t feel like Googling for their specifics), Veronica is Latina, Mr. Weatherbee and ALL of Josie and the Pussycats are black, (when only Valerie is black in the comics) and Jughead is… Cole Sprouse!?? – (that almost wrecked it for me right there).
I get it. Diversity. Yay. I accept this deviation from the comic. I will even attempt to fathom the concept that Midge has not even been introduced, and Big Moose is contemplating the exploration of his (formerly non-existent) homosexuality with the Archie Universe’s new-ish (introduced in 2010) gay character, Kevin (their sexy make out plan ended quite suddenly when they found Jason Blossom’s pale and bloated body in the river). All of that… whatever.
Having Betty and Veronica kissing each other on the mouth was not something that I ever really needed or wanted to see, but the worst of it is that Archie – brace yourself – is FUCKING Miss Grundy!!! – (GASP!) (full with slo-mo scenes in a steamy car and later, in the woods). It’s just too much.
K.J. Apa – the kid that plays Archie – not only is he clearly not a real redhead, but he also wears a constant look of overt hostility on his smug face. That is not a sweet boy. That is not Archie.
Also, that scar or dent or whatever it is between his eyebrows is endlessly distracting.
These characters are supposed to be the model of clean wholesome American kids and blah blah blah etc… Jesus, I’m an old prig, but come on; old prig or not, the normalization of sexual relationships between high-school students and teachers – on one of the most popular teen networks on the country! – is unacceptable. I don’t understand why the CW isn’t under attack for it.
Now here is the conflict: on one hand I think, “fuck that garbage! I won’t watch it! They made my Archies DIRTY!!”
It is admittedly a dark and compelling story. I like it so far, I would even like the characters if they had different names… and by the end of the second episode I didn’t even particularly want to barf on Cole Sprouse… but I do not like that they made my Archies DIRTY!!
Therein lies the conflict.
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I used to be quite smitten with HIM frontman Ville Valo but now I am largely past giving a shit – he fucked everything up so badly that I don’t much like the dude (or the remnants of his band) anymore – worst of it was when he allowed his hideous (now ex-) girlfriend Sandra Mittica troll his fans in various online forums such as WDW) and through social media accounts (Instagram, Twitter AND Facebook) for about three years… and he treated his drummer Gas Lipstick so poorly that the poor bastard finally quit the best paying job he ever had or was going to get. Videos can be found on YouTube of Ville verbally abusing Gas onstage, seemingly without relent. Also, HIM’s last 2 album efforts have pretty much sucked comparable to work that they did back before alcohol and pussy ruled Valo’s world. Legions of die hard fans left after these and other incidents. I watched the exodus live on Facebook. Now the dude is covering ABBA and John Denver – that’s fine, good for him for not residing in the mind-prison known as musical tunnel vision; but sadly, due to the way people are, this isn’t doing much for his street cred in the heavy metal community.
I am still observing his antics peripherally, because one thing that HIM and Facebook accomplished is a huge number of people from all over the planet who are all “friends” on Facebook due only to their allegiance to HIM. Like, you can have 500 friends, half of whom have 300 – 500 mutual HIM friends. I know this isn’t exclusive to HIM – there are other giant pools of mutual Facebook friendships surrounding other fandoms – Stephen King – Harry Potter – WoW – 30STM – whatever. That poor addled lot, those HIM fans, many of them became endearing to me, in that vague way that online strangers that you have “known” for years can be. I have lost interest in Ville and HIM, but due to these connections on Facebook, I have seen a lot being posted in the way of vitriol; jealous and/or disgusted laments about the fact that when he very recently won the Emma Gala at Espoo Metro Arena in Finland, (for the John Denver cover linked above, in fact) he thanked his baby girlfriend, Christel.
I was already 95% on my way to thoroughly disgusted with Valo due to the incidents described above; what with his troll-baby ex-gf and his long-suffering ex-drummer, and teh Street Teams antics and the rest of the stupid circus that surrouded his band, so when he started dating a 22 year old model, I was done.
Jealousy, you say? Nah… not this time. When I am jealous I will own it.
No, this time after 7 years of adoring the dude (and his early work, before he started to suck) I was just… done.
It is disappointing that the dude’s whole career was built on this image of this dark and doomy love-lorn poetic hermit who craved nothing more than the deepest, darkest, gothic, quano-splattered love, a love beyond anything that had been felt by anybody, anywhere, ever and blah blah BLAH blah blah roses and candles and lace and cobwebs and taxidermy, all up in Munkkiniemi Tower, forever and ever, His Infernal Majesty, Amen.
However: in reality what we have is an often publicly drunken and often publicly cruel man with a baby girlfriend of the catwalk fashion model variety, and roughly half his age at that.
That is SO typical of a rockstar… he literally couldn’t be any more of a stereotype. I mean, yeah, she’s legal, he isn’t doing anything wrong, blah blah, etcetera, but still…
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I was of an age where it was appropriate to be smitten with members of The Brat Pack, The Young Guns, The Outsiders, Coreys Haim and Feldman, and River Phoenix.
I adored River Phoenix.
Everybody adored River Phoenix.
Most people know what happened to River – (if you don’t, go utilize your Google skills) and many people have heard his younger brother Joaquin’s frantic 9-11 call. Because of the movies Space Camp (1986) and Parenthood (1989), and then again later, because of Halloween Night 1993, I knew who Joaquin Phoenix is since I was 10 years old. In the late 90’s early 2000’s, I was kind of busy being homeless, yet pop culture remained a big favorite with me in general so I manged to be peripherally aware of the drama when his fiance Liv Tyler dumped him for a man he himself had introduced to her, his so-called “friend”, Royston Langdon.
Now let me segue here, to me at my (now former) job at a payment processing office, with my Supervisor ranting away at me about her husband, who had some sort of legitimate mental disorder that I have long forgotten the name of, which apparently gave him the license to be a constant dick to her. One day, after about two hours of solid laments about him, I asked, “if you’re so unhappy with the dude, why do you stay with him?” She gave me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, and softly said, “you love who you love”.
That always stuck with me.
If there was ever a case of “you love who you love” it had to be Liv Tyler with Roysten Langdon. I mean, she had Joaquin Phoenix ready to marry her and she gave it up for Roysten Langdon?!!
I know I preach constantly throughout this blog about how unfair it is – this constant judgment based on physical appearances – but MAN… 😲 Sorry but Joaquin was – and still is – beautiful and that Royston guy is uuuug-LEE. Damn.
I mean, dude looks like the offspring of post-surgical, puffy-faced Barry Manilow and a troll doll, ffs. 😮
So that begs the question, was Joaquin some sort of an insufferable asshole, or was Royston just a rare fleck of solid gold in a funny little troll-boy body?
I have known who Joaquin Phoenix was for literal decades, and I just never much gave a shit. A couple of years ago my grandmother squawked at me from the living room, “A Joaquin Phoenix movie is on channel (whatever)!” I was like… “so?” She’s like, “omg ain’t you goan’ watch? I’mma watch! That man is so handsome, sexy and fine! Wow meow wow yow wow!” and I was like, “ok… ew.” and went back to whatever I was doing. I wasn’t even peripherally interested.
Then, right around the time my disgust for Ville Valo reached it’s pinnacle, that stupid Hurricane Joaquin meme was floating around the net I was like, oh yeah…. THAT dude.
And then I became smitten. God damn it!
When I become smitten with a celebrity, I learn as much about them as I can.
The more I learn about this dude the less I like him, and yet I still haven’t reached that point that I did with Valo, where I am like, “dude, you suck, I don’t even like you anymore” – but I am headed in that direction.
Joaquin reminds me of a line from The Lion King – he’s “slimy yet satisfying”.
I’ve been studying him (read: stalking any and all online forums about him and watching all of his work) for quite a while (almost a year and a 1/2) now and one thing I have gathered is that this guy has plowed his way through a lotta, lotta pussy.
Dude’s WDW page doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.
He’s even slept with Lindsay Lohan. She bragged about it. The dingbat couldn’t even be bothered to spell his name right. (#6)
Lindsay’s famous fucky-time list:
Surprising nobody anywhere, Joaquin eventually jumped on the ever-so-popular “lets date a baby” train with 19 year old DJ Allie Teilz and made a bit of a spectacle of himself with her at the funeral of Philip Seymour Hoffman, his esteemed co-star in The Master. (This is the guy who snatched the Oscar from Joaquin in 2006. Phoenix was nominated for Walk the Line but Hoffman got it for Capote). In 2014 Hoffman died, allegedly for the same reason that River Phoenix did.
Joaquin showed up at the funeral with his barely legal DJ baby, and they were dressed up like some sort of bizarre fucking Bobbsey Twins, and if all of that weren’t creepy enough yet, if you Google “Joaquin Phoenix Philip Seymour Hoffman funeral” you see in many many pics that she is even walking in step with him and turning her head in perfect tandem with him, like they are a couple of little dollies on sticks. It is one of the creepiest damn things I’ve seen in a while.
The absurdity of this scene reputedly had a few people muttering and sputtering about his uncouth and disrespectful behavior, but they muttered quietly, and much like Bam Margera, JP gets away with doing pretty much whatever the fuck he wants.
I think people give him license to be a prick because of what happened to his brother and how relentlessly the media whored what is presumably one of the worst moments in Joaquin’s life. That moment can be found on YouTube, but even in all of my bitterness, 🍋 I am not black-hearted ♥ enough (yet) to post it here. If you must hear it, go find it ya damn self.
He broke up with the baby DJ, and was presumed to be screwing Fiona Godivier and lord knows who else for a while, and now it has surfaced that he is dating his Her (and eventually Mary Magdalene and Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot) co-star, Rooney Mara.
(Smart gal, no?!)
I REALLY don’t like her. I didn’t like her before I ever knew she’d ever be dating Joaquin. This sounds nutty I suppose, but I could SEE the attraction between them in Her. Yeah, yeah, they were portraying a husband and his wife, they were SUPPOSED to look smitten with each other, whatever, but beyond and behind that, I was like – those fuckers like each other – FOR REAL!!!
I could see the obvious attraction between them again in pictures from on and around the set of their bound-to-flop film, Mary Magdalene:
I was right.
I wonder how much of his interest in her has anything to do with that infamous blowjob scene in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. (Warning: Link is EXPLICIT – duh!)
They reportedly skipped the Golden Globes in order to get their assholes irrigated together out in the desert. My guess is that Joaquin’s former brother-in-law (and former best friend?), Casey Affleck, may not have appreciated this. One – his best friend of two decades missed seeing him win his Golden Globe. Two – said best friend missed it because he was out diddling the exact same broad that Casey had already purported to the press to have an unrequited crush on – and was rumored to have had a brief affair with. Ew.
“I just fell in love with her and then the movie’s over and then she lets you know that she was just sucking you in [laughs]. Then there’s zero feeling there at the wrap party and I was devastated. I was kind of just a little fly in her web, I guess. So that was how that was like.”
“She was just sucking you in.” Interesting choice of words, there, Mr. Affleck.
Mara should have been at the Golden Globes anyway, her movie Lion was nominated in a myriad of categories.
And what the fuck ever became of Far Bright Star?!
An interesting aside about Casey Affleck – controversy surrounds him at the moment because he did creepy things to at least two women on the set of Affleck and Phoenix’s career damaging co-disaster, “I’m Still Here“, a mockumentary in which which Phoenix purports to be quitting acting in favor of rapping, and acts like an asinine buffoon.
From the article linked above, about the sexual abuse allegations against Casey Affleck:
“White’s accusations go on, ranging from incredibly unprofessional behavior to actual physical intimidation. She described an instance where she was prevented from returning to her bedroom during shooting, because Affleck and Phoenix had locked themselves in her room with two women where they had sex with them. Affleck was married with two children to Phoenix’s youngest sister, Summer, at that time (2009)—though the couple recently split (2016).”
Summer cited infidelity and trust issues as the reason for the divorce. Reportedly, she had been disgusted by Casey and his wiener-waggin’ ways for years, but she finally found herself inspired and emboldened by her sister-in-law Jennifer Garner’s decision to divorce Casey’s likewise philandering older brother, Ben Affleck. It has been purported in certain gossip columns that the catalyst affair – Summer’s final straw? Casey’s brief affair with Rooney Mara.
The fact that she cited infidelity and a lack of trust as reasons for her divorce this seems to prove that Summer was unhappy about Casey’s greasy, cheatin’ ways – (ew!) – yet Joaquin did not object to having sex in the same room at the same time that his brother-in-law was ALSO having sex – but with a woman who was not Summer? Joaquin does not seem to have cared about how this wanton behavior might have affected Summer and her young sons. By all appearances Joaquin did, in fact, contribute to and promote Casey’s wanton behavior – while indulging in his own – yet we are supposed to believe that he is oh! so heart broken and torqued out of shape over dogs and sheep?
Is that not strange?
IS THAT NOT STRANGE?!!!
I’m not sure I buy it.
Due to the sexual harassment issues surrounding Casey, it is broadly assumed that Denzel Washington will snatch the Oscar from his greasy little paws. On the upside, if Casey beats the odds and takes home the Oscar, even though he’d never ever admit it, it is highly likely that on some level that would really (and justifiably!) chap Joaquin’s ass.
Last weekend, Phoenix and Mara also managed to make it to an anti-Muslim ban protest at LAX. They received great and sopping accolades in the comments of Facebook posts about it – and even his Mommy got tagged to bask in the glory of it all – because how normal of them! How in touch with the people! Publicity for their sure-to-tank and already-under-attack-for whitewashing-and-poor-casting movie had nothing to do with it all. Of course it got smeared all over their fan pages on Facebook anyway. Of course it did.
Am I jealous? Regrettably, yes. Reasonably? No.
Can I and will I be an insufferably snide bitch due to this jealousy?
Due to a lifetime of physical discomfort, and social exclusion and ridicule, I have a deep-seated psychological complex about my harelip. I am convinced that it’s very existence contributes largely to the fact that people just seem to think that they can treat me like shit.
Initially upon becoming smitten with Joaquin, I admired that he made it big even with the scar on his lip… there are many snide remarks that I can see all over forums and gossip site comments sections about the scar. I was annoyed when I found multiple (admittedly unsourced) articles purporting that his mother had a sharp pain when pregnant with him and he was born with the scar – the whole thing was presented as if he had tried to make it out to be some melodramatic “act of God” – most people who know about the Phoenix family know that they got involved in some damn strange shit and have some damn strange ideas.
That last link 🡱 is a doozy – Part III of that entire blog is filled with interesting and strange ideas surrounding River’s demise. Fascinating stuff. I wish the blog owner would continue to add to and expound upon the blog. Most people revere the Phoenix matriarch, but I’m with whoever wrote this blog. Intuitively, I just feel that something is off about that woman and her RP Center for Peacebuilding.
Maybe I’m dead wrong, idk, but that’s what my gut tells me, so I’m sticking with it. Something’s sketchy.
To top it off, we also have THIS. I do not want to believe that it is true, but admittedly, those two act a bit… uh, unusual for siblings. Even Angelina Jolie came under fire for getting too close to her brother.
EDIT: The Next Day –
I just wrote several short paragraphs and then deleted them. I know what I want to say but it’s hard finding the right tone. I’ll try again.
I am so jaded by people that I prefer to be alone – even if I wasn’t chemically sensitive, which damn near renders it a necessity, I would want to be alone. People are not kind to me. I am capable of being rather personable on the rare occasions that the people around me aren’t being idiots, but his doesn’t matter; because how you get treated in society is tied directly how you look – unless you’ve also managed somehow to become stupendously rich. When you’re a dirt-poor, busted-assed middle-aged fat chick with a fallen neck, glasses and a harelip, trust me, you get treated like SHIT. 😦 (This is a good chunk of how and why my heart has blackened).
♥ Charyou Tree.
Most people, to some extent or another, have a fantasy version of themselves. I have wondered what it would be like to actually be that lovely creature; the fantasy me – it would be wonderful in a way, I suppose, because that creature is lovely and revered, as are most of our fantasy selves. But – if I were still me, the actual me that I am, INSIDE of that lovely creature, everything would be already ruined, anyway. I would know that the attention and adulation was tied directly to the physicality – the mere flesh – of this lovelier me. It would have nothing to do with whether or not I was kind or decent or good. It would not matter if I were a slobbering idiot or if I were Mensa-bound. It would make no difference at all.
All the same, it would be much better to be that lovey creature. Of course it would.
What sucks is when you’re unlovely and you’ve been jaded by an endless myriad of cruelties, and you really don’t object to being alone, in fact you’ve existentially been taught by society to prefer it, but you’ve still got this stupid goddamned bothersome sex drive.
I guess it is because of that stupid sex drive thing that I get too interested in celebrities like Ville and Joaquin. I could have crushed just as hard on Cillian Murphy, (I like weird, pretty boys with weird, pretty names – do you see a trend?) but the fact that he is married stopped me from entertaining those lines of thought. Why? I’m not sure – I mean, he’s just a celebrity, an unattainable fantasy after all – what difference does it make? – but I must have some half-assed semblance of a moral fiber because the knowledge of the existence of a wife just ruins a celebrity for me as far as hard crushing goes.
For example, Rich Robinson (The Black Crowes) was one of my long-time die-hard celebrity crushes. I adored that dude for … idk… damn near two decades? As a teenager I had a mad hot soggy crush on him that held for years, and when he married (surprise! – a model) Emma Snowball, I actually cried. 😥 I have a spooky story about that night, and if I ever write it I’ll link it HERE.
Nobody is infallible. Nothing is sacred. there is no sanctity to be had; not even with The Archies. 😦
This blog entry has become stupendously long and disassociated – the worst, most pointless and meandering one I’ve ever written – and I’ll have to end it sooner or later.
I’ll try to do that now.
Real boys (men – I call them boys, you won’t find any pizzagate pedo shit here, when I say boys I mean ones of the not-gross, fully legal variety)… real boys hurt me. Not physically, but heart-smashingly. 💔 Heart blackeningly.
I’ll elaborate on that mess, possibly in a future blog entry about men and sex but for now we’ll leave it at that.
I became a hermit, and the stupid sex drive that I cannot squelch – and believe me – I want to! – it finds it’s desperate outlet in the form of these stupid celebrity crushes. Real boys but NOT real boys, because they are inaccessible to the likes o’ me.
Then, as demonstrated with Valo and Phoenix, (at the end of a looooong string stretching back 30+ years) I dig too deep and then I learn things I probably didn’t really want to know and then I become annoyed and disgusted with them. And then, I sit and ruminate on whether or not I have the right to be disgusted with them, because they’ve obviously experienced success while my life has been a regular shit show – and then I consider the obvious fact that they don’t know me, nor do they give a fuck what I think – and then I wonder why I waste my life thinking about them, and then I remember that it’s because they are my escape from the wretchedness of my reality. And then I feel overwhelmed by dismay because reality, and then I go back to distracting my poor brain with pop culture and media . I am being good sheep and doing exactly what They want me to do.
I cannot help but to be a little bit disappointed by Joaquin. I know that in this bold new world of fake news we cannot believe every story we see, but there were reports last year about his faltering finances which are allegedly not exactly parallel with his expenses, and his reputation for – how do I say this diplomatically? – something bordering on near special-needs behavior onset – but nobody denies his brilliance. Bottom line: dude needs work and money. I could link all that shit here but I’m about ready to quit giving a shit about this blog entry – anybody who cares that much – which is likely nobody, anywhere, could Google for it & find those articles quickly.
From what I can gather, he blew off several major roles. he was offered Lex Luthor in Batman v Superman, he was offered Joker in Suicide Squad, he was offered the lead roles in Dr. Strange and Split. He also evidently blew off Far Bright Star. All of these things happened after he worked with Rooney Mara in Her.
He blew off the films listed above in order to do this white-washed Mary Magdalene bullshit – as Jesus, no less – really, Joaquin?! He is reportedly an Atheist, but he has alluded to the possibility of simulation theory on at least one occasion.
His next movie about the crippled cartoonist also oh-so surprisingly co-stars Miss Mara.
Let’s just forget for a moment what a spectacle Mara herself is, crying ungratefully over multiple roles and lamenting about being accused of white-washing in her role as Tiger Lily in Pan. So… after lamenting this she accepts the role of Mary Magdalene?
The girl really is a very special kind of stupid, no?!
The comments sections at some of those ↑ links are gold, by the way.
No, Phoenix is not picking roles using his dick and not his brain. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Nothing BUT rational thinking and behavior going on here. Mara surely has nothing to do with any of these decisions. It’s all cosmic coincidence, of course.
I can support that!
No wait – I can’t.
I’m not one of those cheery good will fans who is going to be “happy for him”. There’s a mixed bag on the main gossip sites – some people are shipping them hard, but other people – I’m not the only one – are more like, “ew”.
Most, however, think that she is dating below her station.
What makes that blowjob baby so special?
Oh right! Money. Lots and LOTS of 🏈 💲 .
Joaquin has plowed his happy way through piles and piles and piles of broads, and I’m not sure why the internet has collectively decided that Mara is going to be different – maybe even “the one”.
What makes her so very special?! She looks like a mouse. A lovelier mouse than I, unfortunately. I do not like it, no I don’t, nope nope nope nope nope, but I cannot realistically dispute it either. 😦 Anyway – give it a few months or at best a couple of years and he’ll plow his way through her, too.
But then again, he might try to marry the little football princess. He’d be hooked up for life – Kevin Federline wouldn’t have a thing on him – after that shit hit the fan. 😆
I wonder if she’ll approve of his shit taste in friends – Mel Gibson, Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson, Balthazar Getty, Mark Wahlberg, Sean Penn, Josh Brolin, Nicolas Cage, the Langdon brothers – they’re all dicks. And of course, we mustn’t forget Ben and Casey Affleck. Major dicks!
Oh, do you think I deal poorly with celebrity crushes? You should see what happens in real life!! There are so many reasons that I abstain… the obvious fact that nobody likes me is just one of the reasons! 😆 Nothing has ever gone well for me – I have never had that one, sparkling magic love. There has not been and will not be a “love of my life”. I am one of those Forever Alones. Why should I be happy for somebody else’s squishy love?
It would be so much easier to do if I had a squishy love of my own – but I don’t get to have that. That’s just a fairy tale. A cruelty added to my particular simulation by the sadistic son-of-a-bitch demonic entity or alien that is playing me.
Maybe a gentler person would be happy for him/them but me? – Nah. Not so much.
My heart’s too black for it. It’s not the mature, reasonable or healthy approach – I know it – but I shall continue to be simultaneously lustful, annoyed, jealous and repulsed by him until whatever limited appeal that the annoying little man has finally, mercifully wears off and I find a new actor, musician,band, album or book series to bury my lonely thoughts in.
Unfortunately that’s been par for the course in my life. I’m not as sad as I would be if I were to dwell upon my own actual version of real-real reality instead. As sad as it is, the celebrity crushes are still less horrible than real boys. With celebrity crushes the most damage I can do is to occasionally take a petty swipe at them in the comments section of a high-traffic gossip website. With real crushes, real boys, I can do a lot more damage than that. And worse – they can – and do – damage me back. 😦
One of those stories is so horrible maybe I’ll go ahead and let THAT skeleton stay in the closet.