Posts
From: Stacey Marchenkova
To: dom borax < mailto:printthisplease@printthis.com >
Sent: Friday, May 21st, 1999 11:00 AM
Subject: RE so sorry
It was hard to hear…i have to say…I kinda hated you for a bit…not for being called cruel…
I hated you for tipping that dreadful spiritual smoothie concoction over me (by accident, hmmmm) in that fuck awful Spiritual bookshop!!!!!!
How dare you!!!!
…it was so humiliating…
…and you didn’t even mention it in your apology…don’t you think that you should?
I mean what kinda of guy doesn’t say anything about such an act…makes me relive it again...or makes me think you don’t care about it…
I mean, I have to say…it was hard to tell you about Marcus…you were the last one I told because I knew you’d be upset and I wanted your support…
Yes we had a nice night at the Norman…I really liked it too…I thought we connected and it was fun…but when you left…what was I to do..? Without a word, you left…
I thought it was me…I thought, ‘oh he mustn’t like you in that way…’ or worse…’I think I came on too strong – and revealed too much about myself…’
And of course…whatever…your choice…you can do what you want…that’s cool… it was a nice night…two friends talking and that’s it…I am just his friend…
And then Marcus was there and we started talking too…we connected too…and he sat in your seat at the table once you’d gone…
…he stayed…
…and we drank and we talked and we flirted…
…and he said, come back to my place…
And I did…
…we went back to his place…we fucked…it was good…we played Big Star…the good third album and fucked to Holocaust…it was sad and kinda funny…
and after we talked…we talked about Asterix and The Devils of Loudon in a weird francophile/belguim stream of consciousness way…even Tintin…
I never got Tintin…I liked the white dog but found Tintin looked too much like my Aunt who never married…
but hearing him talk about Tintin made me want to read it…and marry my aunt…and then we put on Jesus and Mary Chain and fucked again to April Skies and Darklands…
…and in the morning it still felt good…he made me cup of tea…leaves…in this kitsch purple home made mug…he taught me how to do a cryptic crossword…and we watched a movie on telly…Doc Savage…
…and when I went home, I still thought of him…it was painful not to ring…it was more painful to want to see him in the future and think of him from last night…he had made me move out of the present…I had memory and hope…
...and parted of me hated him for that and parted of me could see myself getting old…quilting and kissing and baking and toying with the idea of god…
I kinda felt human
And I know I shouldn’t tell you this…but I want to hurt you and make you understand that I never planned this…it happened…maybe it could have been you…and maybe I would have woken in the morning looking up at you dangling a hot cup of coffee over my head, tipping it and scolding me…
...'cause I know we flirted too…at the Norman…I know…but when you went home without saying goodbye…what was I meant to think? I thought you hated me…and after we shared so much…I didn’t understand…
…now I understand that you were drunk and just toddled off…but what was I meant to think?
..and now…fuck…I don’t know why I wanted your support…I think I wanted it, because I liked you…I really did…but maybe we are just friends…good friends… and nothing more…
My clothes still stinks of wheatgrass, carrot and noni juice by the way…
