|dude. i think "hitchcockian" is the best adjective i've seen in a long time.|
taken from the parkway's special events calendar:
Tuesday, March 7. 9:15
it's wednesday and i am exhausted from staying up til 4 am so i would be on guard from my roommate.
thanks to michael paul for treating me to the mason diner and thanks to the ben storm band, fumi and michelle for making the marina a hair more palatable last night.
jesus, what soul-less place.
it's amazing to see so many "beautiful people" in one space and close my eyes and feel like the room is empty.
the matrixfillmore is a hipster joint. drinks, blah-blah, fireplace, blah-blah, "cool seating" and soft sculpture walls", blah-blah.
people wearing (safe, bland, colorless) clothes that cost more than i make in a month, coiffed, accessorized and looking completely uninterested in each other. i don't know what it's like to be breathing sculpture. perhaps the art is in preparing to go out and not to interact in any kind of meaningful way. i have no idea.
my roommate situation still feels off. he emailed me apologizing for the anus postcard thing, but it doesn't feel right. like, if he was horrified by it, why the freak would he leave it there for ME to find?
i emailed the crew to get a sense and it's interesting to hear the results. some folks are like...give him the benefit of the doubt and talk to the guy, some folks are like GET THE HELL OUT, NOW. it's about 50/50, actually. i've gotten some concerned phone calls, too. and my gut, my gut, my intuition...she's like "erika, get the f--- out of there. you've had TOO many bad roommate experiences. you're too old for this sh--."
if nothing else, i am disappointed by his judgement call to that end, and that paired with the weird boundary thing just has me exhausted and creeped out. he's a grown man. i realized that it wasn't the CONTENT of the image that disturbed me so much as my lack of choice to be exposed to it.
i remember being introduced to the photography of maplethorpe in college. outrageous imagery involving the body. it was in a communication law class taught by david rubin, dean of the newhouse school of public communications at syracuse (go orange!). we were talking about censorship, profanity, libel, pornography and what made things objectionable in general. he had a book and invited the class to check out examples once he explained the context.
i've been to burning man. i live in san francisco, for chrissakes. i know outrageousness, but i often CHOOSE when i am exposed to it. it's when the unsolicited vaginal opening, buttcrack, penis, ass cheek, or (as in this case) anus appears that
i get that "no so cool" feeling.
i'm tired of living in fear, and not taking up space IN MY OWN HOME. that's crazy.
home as sanctuary has been a myth for me. i've always experienced it in other spaces, ever since moving to florida in '88? home life got weird. and well, i've been looking for stable home for me ever since.
i've found it crashing at friend's pads, in lover's homes, but never created a nest for me (okay, there was my tent at burning man in 04).
18 years without feeling a sense of home, safety, being cool in my house.
18 years of needing to sneak cooking, being uber-careful about noise so as not to disturb others, but not having the same care taken for me.
18 years of staying out late so i didn't have to interact with the personalities i'd find in the house.
i'm going to find HOME. HOME is the first place one needs, the terra firma.