We can’t be any more than friends: Random bits from Journal 13

At Copy-Editing Camp. PHILADELPHIA, Pa.–Temple University, New Residence Hall on Broad Street, Room 213A. Not a whole lot to say yet. I already wrote about the bad neighborhood and the security measures of this building. Felt a little dazed most of the afternoon. Made it into the city; I didn’t feel all that stressed, but I must’ve been because of the sweat was pouring out of my armpits. I think that took its toll, because I felt a little dazed, just out of it, the rest of the evening. We took three cars to dinner at Chili’s, and as I am the only one [of the students] who drove here, I drove my car with 3 people in it–Marilyn, Annette, and Robb, so it was tight in there. Then on the way back, My-Linh got lost and made me run red lights to follow her, so I didn’t much like that. But for my first bit of city driving, not bad. Marilyn, who’s from NYC–Queens–said she respected my ability to keep up with My-Linh–not an easy task. It really wasn’t too bad. I was concentrating on not losing My-Linh so much that I didn’t think about “Driving in the City.” Near Temple, it’s not good. Marilyn once pointed to a corner and said, “There’s a good place for a crime.” [Page 178, Sunday, 26 May 1996]

The ideas I had last weekend about motion and my friend S--cars and their coming into contact, which is not prevented by anything in nature. There is nothing, no laws in nature, that says these two cars can’t touch–no concrete barrier–yet we come at each other at 60 miles an hour and come within a foot or two–mere inches–and expect to never crash. Like I wrote last week, it wasn’t only drunk driving that killed S, it’s motion–change, the change made possible by time. The fact that we can change (position) in a moment allows for motion, and two objects in motion toward each other, intent on occupying the same physical location at the same time–this is deadly. [Page 105-6, Sat. 9 March 1996, at Petro]

The four of us roommates–we all have very specific relationships with each other. How DK said middle-aged businessmen are dispassionate, resigned to jobs they don’t care about. [Page 62, 6 Feb. 1996, night]

C did say tonight that she had never thought I would feel rejected. She thought my problem is that I never had a girl-friend before–not so. I’m just not sure where our intimacy is, what my motivation is to care about her. Last week, after Sunday, was cool because we were just casual friends. I was over her, but then Saturday, she called twice and came over and told me she loved me, etc. She did say she wasn’t sure why she did stuff like that. I wonder if she isn’t somehow attracted–but she later said that she just feels like telling people (including me) how she feels about them, whether that’s selfish or not. So I’m still learning about myself her, though this. … She’s always saying how well I know her–well, maybe, but I’ve never felt she knows me, even though she did say today that she felt from me that I would like to be friends in my heart but my head said no–true to a point. [Page 26, 22 January 1996]

In January, I told C that I had felt rejected when she said she didn’t want me to have any “ulterior motives” and then when she started up with another guy … She seemed to not understand that I would feel that way. Here’s my hypothesis: she wasn’t telling me I was a bad person, but that I wasn’t the perfect person for her—I didn’t fit her standard of the ideal man. But I felt bad–and, no, I didn’t feel that I was a bad person, but I wanted her—her company, her whatever it is that we say we want when we say we “want” somebody. The thing is that I valued her judgment–I had adopted her standards and value system as my own. OK, so maybe this isn’t what I felt–I felt her loss, the end of something, a death, an end. But the idea that I am trying to describe tonight is different—how you take on the other’s value system (in a Sartrean sense) and so when the other refuses us, we mistake her personal ideal, which is not an External Standard, with some permanent value system–that because I don’t match her personal idea, that I am truly a bad person in an objective sense. [Page 125, 14 March 1996, 10:20 p.m. Petro]

I don’t want long-distant relationship—I want a full relationship of touching, sharing, talking—being together. M is a neat person–one of the prettiest, hottest women I’ve ever known, smart, ambitious, funny, up-beat–it will a long time before I will meet anyone like her again. But we can’t be any more than friends–having not even kissed, I don’t think we will or can–that would introduce too much. I mean, we could kiss, but that would be hurried and shallow. Then again, not to attribute our weird vibe tonight to such cosmic unfairness as our short time together. She may have been cooler towards me tonight, somewhat less sympathetic, less excited, because of a basic dousing of whatever spark was there. I don’t know why–hell, if I did … [Page 157, Monday night, 15 April 1996]

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