  La Belle says tonight: "Tomorrow I should go out and spend all my money on underwear, then throw them about the room to decide my fate like a satiny, lace-gussetted I-Ching. Let the gods of Beau Bra decide. " I adore this woman. She's a call girl in London, but she's witty and bright and can string sentences together. I desire to be her lesbian, so-cal counterpart. I desire /more/ to continue my voyeuristic stalking through her blog.
And invent my own fantasies to insert between the lines of her text. I'm enamoured with her. Is that so wrong to idolise a hooker? All relationships have a flavour of prostitution to me anyway. Theres always this unspoken element of mutual exchange that goes beyond money. It always seems to land in levels of compromise that tinge the whole affair in commercialism.
By that, I mean /commerce/, not monitarily. I exchange my desire to talk freely about east asian politics for your silence on matters of your workmates relationship troubles. I exchange being denied my want of getting fisted for your want of battery-powered fun time. It varies with the relation. And really, Im being sensational in my examples at the expense of making my point; prostitution never seemed that far off from me and what Ive been through. You want to delve deeper?
Get yourself a PhD and a couch. She says tonight too: All romance is narcissism, someone told me once. This was the same person who also told me women over 30 should never wear their hair long, so it's probably an unreliable source, but still. Is it narcissism? Someone told /me/ once that when youre in love with someone, youre really only in love with yourself when youre with that person. A variant of the same theme.
Truthful? Maybe. But when youre in it, no one can break it down to its parts and tell you such a thing in a way that youll believe it. Love is a drug. Roxy Music had it right. Mind-altering.
Mood-changing. Its dangerous in my experience. The come-down is a bitch. Wait. Wasnt my New Years Resolution Musing Session touching on this? Wondering whether it would do me good to kerb my cynicism?
Isnt it that cynacism that Im now buying into by restating the words of this mysterious woman? We only hear what confirms our reality. When words to us dont fit readily, we discard it as false, as misguided. You can say that of me, my view here tonight. or you can say that of yourself. Who really knows?
Yet Ill add reinforcements to my POV: romantic love was only invented in the last millennium. Or recognized at something more than animal/hormonal lust. To call it more would threaten the authority of the church, I see. But still this stupid Hollywood fantasy of falling in love with a dreamy guy and breeding happily away is as foreign to me as having an arranged marriage to a Siberian Husky. To further colour your view of "love," here's a commodity from Japan. Just lovely, isn't it?
How do you say "misogynist" in Japanese? 
