tavie.com

Having nothing to do as I wait for my boss to bring me more random(ly generated) numbers to enter, I reread Matt's Hedwig essay, which, along with my engulfment in both the Hedwig music and inconveniently-timed surge of hormones, leads me to believe that I am now in love with Matt. Although this love is not sexual, it is everything else: sororital, maternal, pathetic, adoring, admiring, sad, useless, jealous, frustrating, painful and sweet.

As I reread the essay, I pretended I was John Cameron Mitchell reading it for the first time. Therefore, my fantasy seems to make me John Cameron Mitchell falling in love with Matt. I enjoy this fantasy. It's somehow not unlike my fantasy that I am a singing hippie Jesus.

Maybe my fantasy will come true. (Maybe in the Mitchellian reality there will be the bonus sexual element. I don't know what's wrong with me; despite my surging monthly hormones, something deep inside of me doesn't permit me to be sexually attracted to this 17-year-old boy. Perhaps it's my maternal feelings that cancel out this possibility, in the interest of the incest taboo.)

I want to go see that movie again right now, hand-in-hand with my sweetheart.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:02 PM | shower me with attention