tavie.com

I wish I was John Cameron Mitchell. I wish I was Matt. I wish I was both of them at once. My new fantasy: me and John Cameron Mitchell, tangled in a comfortable heap on Goose's comfortable couch. Goose is in the kitchen under a swinging He-Man figurine, getting a tray of coffee yogurt for us to enjoy. Matt stands before us with a battered, beloved copy of The Aeneid (in Latin) in his hand. He is reading it aloud to JCM and me. Goose brings in the yogurt and sets it aside, eager to join our sweet heap of goodness. She crawls aboard, and we are all arms and legs (occasionally intermingled with bulges of grotesque Jello-like Tavie flesh), but we are all extraordinarily comfortable and entranced by the rhythmic beauty of Matt's recitation.

Goose says my fantasies are too tame. So I'm going to try to imagine that we're all naked in the fantasy, but it just gets too... floppy... and dissolves into grotesque humour. Sigh.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:56 AM | shower me with attention