Am back from my long, non-blogging/cleaning up the disaster while simultaneously writing a column and working two jobs break. And this ain’t gonna be a long post. One of my jobs (working for a sex therapist in midtown) is ending because the therapist is very ill and retiring so I’ve spent the past several hours applying for jobs online and I feel like my eyes are gonna fall out. *However* I’ve also been trying to work on my latest book, which kind of picks up where Live Nude Elf left off. Was just now writing about love and I wrote this tiny bit. More to come probably also on love because it’s what I’ve been writing about as of this minute:
Due to some planetary fuck up in my astrological chart, astrologers tell me I know exactly what I want in every area of my life except for love. And this is true. This is why I can tell you about the next 20 paintings and books I’m going to complete but I can’t tell you if I think I’ll ever marry or what kind of man I want to marry or whether or not it’ll even be a man. People therefore often assume I’m not thinking about the future, which isn’t true. I think about the future all the time, it’s just that when I do, it’s full of art not love. That said, I’ve always guessed that I would know what I wanted in love when it, he or she appeared. I would know what I wanted when I didn’t want it, he or she to then disappear.
And this idea that I might not want someone to someday disappear connotes all of the things that scare me, namely neediness and egolessness, a love so strong that I might want to disappear.
So perhaps it’s not really a planetary fuck up at all but plain old simple fear.
I am afraid of love.