answers to some questions

On Lust and Love

Eating an entire plate of nothing but roast-pork (belly area with some ribs) may be quite lustful (or more aptly, greedy= gluttony), but it's love. I love pork. Should I wake up one day and find that I could no longer eat it, I would probably go into therapy. Become a bit suicidal.

I lust after books, but I don't love them enough to keep them as my best friend Leila does.

I lust after good clothes, but I love my body better beyond whatever superficial camouflage or enhancement that clothes may give it. I can go naked (I can), or wear jeans and a ratty shirt forever (well, not really).

I lust after gadgets, but I love the silence of being incommunicado when phone lines and failed internet connections put you away from the radar.

I lust after beauty and perfection, but I love imperfection more especially when it's marked by fierce, unwavering intelligence (we're always fond of saying that we love fucking the Giselles, but end up marrying the Janeane Garofalos)

And there's the rarity of intertwined lust and love. Sometimes opposing. Sometimes complementary. But each having equal weight. When it comes to people, the realness comes when you both love and desire them and that for me is non-negotiable. 

On 'getting over' someone

You get over a mistake. You get over an embarrassment. You get over the fact that you still can't fit into a pair of size 30 jeans. 

You get over the fact that you will never have naturally white skin. You get over the fact that you will never progress beyond basic math (and still struggle subtracting 68-16 mentally).

You get over the fact that you will look 30 forever (well, at least for the next 15 years).

But you don't 'get over' someone. I don't.

Firstly because I rarely get into superficial, clearly transitory relationships. I also have this conceit that I don't fall for just anyone; someone so generically unexceptional you can easily get over. Like burping after a meal. A sort of afterthought. It's more satisfying to be challenged, to be rejected even, to be in pain. To be caught in the chaos of conflict, compromise, sexual torment and deceit (the deceit part is highly exaggerated).

Getting over someone is what normal, generic people do. Stories from those episodes become fodder for office gossip, or over barbecue at a pretentious shindig somewhere in Ponsonby. 

Why bother with people who can never make your very cells tingle? 

I love long. rambling, richly textured, multi-layered stories and even if a friend of mine has warned me that it may never be resolved, I don't really care. 

Who wants resolution? Who wants a boringly, immediate ending? Who wants a frighteningly bright and clear answer? It's like looking straight at the sun- you'd burn your damned corneas.