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[axelsuave]

What's your favorite fan fiction title and why?

Interesting question! I’d have to say it’s probably Favorite Shade of Sky by inbetweenbreaths (aka @baroque-mirrors), an AU where Piper is a young lawyer and Alex is her reluctant client, who is incarcerated in the prison’s SHU when the story begins. We hear Alex’s thoughts throughout the fic (wistful reminiscences, fragile hopes, deep fears)…thoughts that are prompted by her fleeting glimpses of the changing colours of the sky outside her prison cell. The title is a phrase I hadn’t heard before, but it’s so evocative and memorable and lovely. The story itself is the same— a poignant, beautifully-written fic that’s well worth-reading even though it’s incomplete, so please give it (and the author’s other excellent fics) a shot. I’m terribly behind on fanfic reviews, but this one deserves a lot of praise, and hopefully it will be updated soon.Runners-up:– Baby, It’s Cold Outside by nickkandbj. Ok, I prompted ch. 4 *but* I’d love the title even if I didn’t, because I love the song that inspired it–a call & response duet about two people who want the same thing, but are held back by societal expectations (one of the people being a woman who is expected to be prim & proper….sound familiar??). The song reminds me of that famous Vauseman banter and the push-pull dynamic that we love about Alex and Piper’s relationship…. and that great chemistry comes through in nickkandbj’s excellent fanfic. Oh, and the author cleverly works the title into each chapter. Read it now! – Soft Target by reverse-swing, aka orthodoxspin on tumblr. Again—I had a wee hand in this one, too (I prompted the fic and came up with the title) but I love the story so much, so …. When I was thinking of a title to suggest to the author, I wanted something with a double-meaning (because I adore puns) and something slightly detective-noirish (because I’m a huge fan of the genre). Ultimately, I think the title did the story justice by capturing both the tension (the literal meaning of “soft target” being a person/thing that’s relatively unprotected or vulnerable to attack) and the sexual/sensual nature of this brilliant fanfic. Wow, what a long-winded answer lol.

[axelsuave]

Favorite Vauseman Fics

I made this post purely for nostalgic reasons. For me, one of the saddest thing that happened after that god-awful season 3 is the decline of Vauseman fics. I stopped reading Vauseman fics a while ago because I was just so disheartened by the show and frankly, I don’t think the fics are all that good anymore aside from a very FEW. I think the prime period for the Vauseman fics was the hiatus between season 2 and 3. Since then, especially post season 3, it hasn’t been the same. What a shame. Hence I wanted to make a list of all my favorite OLD SCHOOL fics to remember the good times. I hold these fics close to my heart and these were the ones that I used to go back and re-read all the time. I want to thank you all these writers for sharing their stories. I hope that you will be struck with inspiration again, if not, no worries because you’ve made your mark. You are all incredible writers and thank you again for giving me something to read and fall in love with. 

Multichapter 1. Shells - AnonymousWords 2. young blood - Alanabloom ( @alxvse)  3. Parkslope - DeadlyViperAssassinxElleDriver 4. Follow Her Own Advice - ToTheBarricades ( @neighborhoodspaceman) 5. Better Than Paris - jacklavigne 6. Frustrations and Expectations - unsorted ( @cessati0n)  7. Red’s Café - JFishy 8. This Is What I Call Life - jacklavigne 9. X-Static Process - coldwomenwarmhearts 10. Assholeness - Gustock ( @sunshinepipes) 

Bonus: -Archetypes - Vauseman -Reading Glasses - vausexual -Hot Child in the City - shortie990

One Shots 1. New Romantics - NightsLightss ( @nightslightss)  2. The faster we’re falling - Gustock ( @sunshinepipes)  3. Monster - Alanabloom ( @alxvse) 4. the scariest thing of all - spheeris1 5. maybe you’ve been wrong all along - spheeris1 6. A Rose By Any Other Name - Red Pen Ninja 7. Step Right Up - Alanabloom 8. Without A Clue - waterpaint 9. Creatures of Habit - Vacira ( @socalledtragedy)  10. The Horror Film - ohvausealex

Bonus: List of my favorite stories from New Romantics Police Chief’s Daughter Band Tinder Florida Kilos Soulmates Summer Courtship Runaways Sleepover Glory And Gore Pool Party

*A special thank you to @nightslightss for including me in some of her chapters, it’s been a real treat! I’m very grateful for the shared experience. 

[axelsuave]

Piper & Alex | Orange is the New Black 3x02

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Chats with Piper

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Chats with Nicky.

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I have to comment on this even 8 years after the original publication, lol. In more than one occasion Piper was the one that made the relationship happen, when they were young, when they met again in prison and when Alex tried to push her away when she was sent to Ohio. This is interesting because on an apparent level and also because of her personality, Piper was perceived as the submissive and indecisive one, but in fact she’s the one who had the emotional power in that relationship, even if she was unaware of it. That’s why she was so shocked to hear Alex telling her how she had broken her heart. Piper didn’t think she was capable of that, but she always was. Alex had the financial power, the confidence/seduction that was so attractive to Piper, who couldn’t believe she had become the interest of such a sophisticated woman. Sexually Piper was equally assertive, despite the "she never used to be the aggressor" comment, which I always thought was a venom phrase just to mess with Larry’s head. I find this writing very fitting for a character so mercurial as Piper, so hard to pin down. The writers of Carol did the same: the unexperienced, younger and shy Therese was the one that went for it, that turned the flirting into a sexual and romantic relationship. So the balance of power in these relationships is very interesting from the point of view of character depth and development. Most Piper-hating memes miss these nuances.

A Quick rant on Piper's Sexuality

Piper is obviously interested in and had affairs with girls pre-dating Alex. Alex may be her first sexual partner with a woman, but you can clearly understand Piper’s implications when Alex asks her, what kind of a lesbian are you? And Piper replies, the boob touching kind. So despite Alex being the first girl to go down on Piper, and despite Piper’s comments to Polly, i.e. I’m not gay, just experimenting, and I don’t know, maybe all the guys I’ve been with so far were just really bad in bed, but I feel like I’m just learning what sex is supposed to be like, Piper has obviously had some experiences with women before. Maybe nothing more than a steaming make out session at some college party where she didn’t get past second base, but regardless, Piper knows when she meets Alex that she is interested in her in more than just an experimental-lesbian-phase. Piper is not interested in sex with Alex because she wants to feel rebellious or because what the fuck, it could be fun banging a chick. Piper approaches Alex again. Even after being punched in the face by Alex’s girlfriend whom she has just become the mistress to the relationship. Piper seeks Alex out, she tells her, I want to taste what you taste like, and there is no beating around the bush in that moment. Piper is interested in Alex, and Alex is much more concerned with her feelings for Piper than her officially designated significant other, Sylvia.

[axelsuave]

Oldie from Nicky.

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forty-eight thousand seats bleats & roars for my memories of you now that I’m fully clean the matador is no more & is dragged from view

[axelsuave]

Room

There is something so open about a hotel bed, the duvet kicked away; it was like a plinth, or a padded stage, and the shapes we made there were more sweet and anguished for seeming abstract, as we fitted together our jigsaw love, one way, or another... When I think of those hotel rooms, I think of them after we left, and only the air knew what we had done. The door closed so simply behind us: the shape of our love in the room like some forgotten music, beautiful and gone. ---- Anne Enright, The Forgotten Waltz

Re-reading this from one of my favorite journals:

https://nicebluejournal.livejournal.com/136370.html

[axelsuave]

Sylvie

Sylvie

 Alex Vause’s therapy sessions. Making amends with myself, with the past, with the people I’ve hurt. 

This is part of my routine. 9-5 job. My place of work is three blocks from Berdie’s office, so I arrive 5-10 minutes past 5. Every Thursday at 6 PM I leave the office and come home from my session. I’m supposed to go twice a week, but it became overwhelming. Berdie, my therapist, agreed to this modified schedule. But she squeezes the life out of me during our 50 minute session. 

These past sessions we’ve been talking exclusively about a single person from my past that I’ve hurt. I must detail what I did that was wrong and how I feel about it, and what possible course of action I should take to make it better.

I have to talk about this despite Piper hating it. Even if Piper isn’t present in the sessions, I feel she hears everything, because this time around I find it impossible to hide things from her. I’m transparent now. She would hate talking about Sylvie because of what we did to her, and this is one of the subjects she likes to avoid. But it comes with the therapeutical agreement I have with Berdie, and my true need to settle things and have some clarity and peace of mind. Some of my friends pre-Piper, and even my mom, never understood my relationship with Sylvie. She was five years older than me, and we began dating soon after I joined my shady business. She was a regular at the bars I used to frequent, part of an out group of women that I never managed to be friends with, since my non pc humor used to offend most of them. Plus, the bars already were my business setting, and I was beginning to dissociate fun and relaxation from them. 

 I never noticed Sylvie in particular. Or any of them, for that matter. But she managed to get approach me, to constantly make herself present, and during the early stages of her open and direct flirting, she was in fact very seductive and had a great conversation. I had been with older women since my early teens, so Sylvie’s experience and verbosity didn’t impress me much. As a teenager my motivation to be with older women was purely sexual. At 22, I already knew what I wanted in that regard. I was totally confident and the least thing I expected was a long-time relationship. Personally, I didn’t feel ready or in a rush. It was true I didn’t know what to do and didn’t like the idea of having to explain my day-to-day activities or share them with someone in a way it became a routine. Professionally I was sure it would be problematic, since my job consisted, at least in the beginning, of a lot of convincing via flirting, and sometimes more, to be frank. The idea of being tied or subjected to jealousy was a total turn-off. I was protective of my freedom, even proud of it.

I was beginning to escalate in the organization; money and travel were coming to me, and as I was earning my success; I also found myself alienated from old friendships and mostly, from home. I didn’t see mom much. She’d hardly accept my travel invitations or anything else that I could provide for her. She was stubborn and prouder than me. I was excited about my new life, but in the big city, it could get lonely sometimes, even for a person with thick walls of defense, such as myself. And Sylvie was always there. She was persistent. It seemed like I had nothing to lose. She was intelligent, witty and an attractive and fiery redhead; very confident, which made her even more attractive. Our first encounters were all laughter and sex. I tried to keep it like that for as long as I could. She went through many rejections and there were times where I wonder if everything about her was a façade and in fact she had very low self-esteem. But her persistence worked because much more than vulnerable, she caught me bored and saying to myself: “fuck it, let’s try this”. So we became “official” in the last days of November 1999. 

The first months together were good; we avoided the u-Haul thing like the plague (it horrified me), but she could be clingy in private and in public. She demanded public displays of affection when we were with our friends. It made me feel uncomfortable and could only happen after my 6th bourbon. That duty was for other people. In public I enjoyed being charismatic and not being bothered by anything or anyone. I did talk about this with her when we were alone, and she’d resent it. I said I couldn’t be forced to become a different person and that she knew what I was all about. For a few weeks she’s reduce the demands, but then she’d be clingy Sylvie again. I thanked and felt lucky that my frequent business trips gave me a much-needed break from her. 

When I was traveling, I had to force myself to remember to call Sylvie. With all the partying, the booze and the foreign beauties who more than often would offer their company in my suite, I’d forget I had a girlfriend back home. The problem was the girlfriend concept didn’t stick with me and neither did the home concept, despite having had acquired a luxurious loft in the city, filled with possessions that were dear to me, such as my books and the antiques I’d bring from my trips. It still felt weird, impersonal. My home, if I had to have one, was my drive to stay on the road, to prove myself how well I could deliver a job. To scheme and plan things that I’d tell others how to approach. To boss around for once in my life. My home was living every day as if it was the last one, because I was always aware of the risks I was taking. I was on the edge and maybe it was the rush of the adrenaline what didn’t make me think properly. 

When I was away, Sylvie moved into my apartment. Once I returned to find half of my closet occupied by her stuff. And I’m not a 100% sure of this, but I think it was her who somehow made a copy of my key, because I had no plans for living together at that stage. When I saw all this, I felt more overwhelmed than angry, but at the same time I had been thinking that it wasn’t ok that at 22 I was incapable of having a serious relationship. So, I just went for it. It felt weird giving into her, being passive about a situation like that. Sylvie had some business of her own going on; she was an administrator of warehouses and did some accounting. She was good at it and certainly didn’t need me to provide for her. Moving in was her blunt way to push me to take our relationship seriously. To call it a “long-term relationship”. Once in, I learned the routines as best as I could. So this is what it’s all about, what everybody dreams of. It felt so forced. Was there anything wrong with me? Was I just naturally sullen? Is it the only-child thing? I kept trying the relationship scheme. It had to work and if I was lucky, I’d end up believing it.

When I told my mom, she was surprised because I never talked to her about Sylvie. That was a red flag. In our three years together, my mom knew almost nothing important about Sylvie, but she got to know her from the distance during her drinking problems, after a trail of disgraces with her family and her business. There was worry but also annoyance in my voice, and suddenly everything in the relationship was about the drinking problem, her increasing violence, her screaming and throwing things around. To be honest, sometimes she could be frightening, out of herself. I didn’t know what to do. My first instinct was to kick her out of my apartment, because I still thought of it as mine, but she clearly has established it as her territory. So, there I was, trapped in my own apartment. The only times I would snap out of it were the business meetings I’d conduct with Fahri and other people from the organization. She knew she had to get out of the house and that it was non-negotiable. There was this one time when she was inebriated and couldn’t stand up. Fahri was in the house observing quietly. He later commented that our job wasn’t ideal to carry extra baggage and I took it as a threat. 

From that moment on, I established order and rules for Sylvie. I was afraid for her safety, but also annoyed that my boss had seen this part of me, this weakness. I wasn’t accepting the truth yet: Sylvie offered routine, but she was beginning to feel like dead weight. I wasn’t gonna allow anyone to mess with my job. Sylvie was out of my life while still hanging by a thread. I was too lazy to tell her. I was too lazy to put the minimum effort with her. I put myself on autopilot with her for months. Mom noticed my discomfort on the phone, but didn’t mention it. She knew I lived with Sylvie but she didn’t matter to be. Mom also began hearing a lot about Sylvie a few months later, when Piper came into the picture. She even said, in her joking kind of ways, what a contrast it was for her that in less than six months she felt like she knew everything about Piper, but in three years, she couldn’t even remember Sylvie’s last name. I guess that says all about my relationship with her. My mom’s verdict. Three years felt like forever, and probably anyone would think it was serious since you need to really commit in order to have a successful relationship. That’s all appearance. Our time together was the laziest kind of comfort and an illusion of security. A test for me, but I think she was in love with me, at least for a good part of those years. This made me feel sorry for her because she wasn’t corresponded.

I tried to be as supportive as possible, though. Our last year together, when her drinking problem got really bad and I was gone for business, I’d call frequently. When I was back and we’d go out, I had to discipline myself with the alcohol consumption, as I couldn’t touch a drop of it in front of her. This was a disaster for my business, so I made sure both of us were never together at bars or parties. Alcoholism is a harsh disease. When I was home, everything was about that. Hiding bottles, making sure she wasn’t around when I wanted to enjoy a simple bottle of beer. I had become her nurse and for a good part of our last year together, we weren’t intimate, not really. My mind had left that relationship, but I was still loyal, supportive. She managed to get clean and while I was happy for her, I knew we couldn’t save our relationship, but I still didn’t know how to end it. I felt embarrassed, maybe guilty.

I was pretty straightforward in my business, but surprisingly, I couldn’t tell Sylvie I wanted out. I didn’t wanna hurt her and part of me felt comfortable of having someone to come home to. I think I could’ve stayed longer with that deal, because it was convenient on many fronts, but then I met Piper. During my three-year relationship, I had agreed with Sylvie that, because of business, we couldn’t be exclusive and even if I had no business excuse, I wasn’t interested in monogamy. Sylvie had to grow used to this, but she hated it, she was always jealous and possessive. When I took Piper home that night, Sylvie and I had had a terrible fight during that week and I thought we were on a break, one of many we had taken. I hadn’t seen her for days. Her attack on Piper was surprising, but her aggression is something that had been escalating for a while. 

She could get very physical when she felt cornered, and during her drunken years... let’s just say I had to leave my own apartment to avoid abuse and flying objects. I felt so guilty about my fall-out that even after that night with Piper, I still gave Sylvie another chance. Or more like I allowed our thing to die on its own. I just couldn’t bring myself to end it. An argument with Sylvie would leave me drained. Deep down I hoped she would become bored of us and be the one to leave. That was the “complicated” situation I explained to Piper a couple of weeks later at the Burlesque show. It was complicated mostly on my part, because where did this sense of guilt come from? I had never given a shit about relationships in my youth. I can only attribute this to my loneliness and a need for something familiar, despite my free woman façade. I don’t know where it came from ‘til this day. 

That first night at the bar, when I met Piper and we spent something like five hours talking, flirting and laughing, I finally went home with complicated feelings because I felt exhilarated with Piper, but had a sense of dread of opening the door and seeing Sylvie. What the fuck, Vause? Why couldn’t I solve this right away? I knew this was fucked up and I knew it in the way that I even hid it from my mom; but mom could always detect my moods even from the distance, just interpreting my silences on the phone. The next couple of weeks after our first encounter, Piper kept “appearing” here and there… bars, bookstores, even once when I was sitting on a bench, having a smoke. She called and texted, and all of it was a goofy and nervous mess. I described in detail the encounters and mom said I hadn’t sounded so excited in more than a year. She was so intrigued about “this new girl”. I said: how can it be that something so random turned awesome? My god, Sylvie was so out of my life by then. But I wasn’t thinking of replacing her with Piper. The replacement word is what bothered me. Replacement, abandonment. Yeah, I’m beginning to realize where this comes from. 

I loved those encounters with Piper, the fact that she was so keen on me and that she could be so goofy and even tender. A total contrast with what Sylvie had become. But I didn’t want to become too excited; I knew her type: a cute girl with an adventure phase who’s used to having everything she’s wanted. A girl like that wasn’t gonna play with me; I knew them too well. It was me who made a living out of playing with girls like her. I remembered this whenever I felt enthusiastic about Piper. I can honestly say I wouldn’t have moved a finger pursuing Piper after the Sylvie punching disaster. But the way she came to me, how she basically possessed me almost in front of Sylvie, caught me off guard. I couldn’t believe it, in fact. I had underestimated her. How she came to me that night was all it took for me to stop considering her a disposable girl. I admired her straightforwardness, and it didn’t hurt that she had the face of an angel, and her eyes felt like fire on me.   

I fell for Piper so incredibly hard, immediately. Every aspect of us was exciting and intriguing. She was passionate and she was tender; she was erudite and humble. She was a fucking sweetheart, and I couldn’t stop looking at her, touching her, thinking of her. And now she was mine in a way I had never understood. Not a possessive way, more like she fell from the sky. I was so into her that I didn’t care we did the U-Haul scheme within weeks. They say when you fall in love you just know. No second guesses. So, I was in love for the very first time in my life and I let her know. I was afraid but I couldn’t keep it in me. I never felt that intensity with Sylvie, not even the first couple of months of us together. I even felt bad for having stayed with her just out of habit. I was missing so much. Piper came into my life like a hurricane and my head felt crazy, my heart would pump so fast. I felt almost drugged, unrecognizable to myself, because I had always been in control of my emotions. This was new. And I wasn’t crazy to leave her behind just because of business responsibilities. 

I was so in love that I was blind to the dangers I put her in. But what could I do in that situation? I had no idea. My mom wasn’t exactly an expert. She said that I should follow my heart. My heart wanted Piper with me all the time, even when my business got in the way. Our relationship was brief but incredibly intense, and then it got troubled and there was so much pain. That level of pain was new to me, too. When I knew I was losing her I played it cool, but my insides were desperate. No one in my life has had so much power over me, and that’s why she finally destroyed me. I got to talk to Sylvie about this, many years after my breakup with Piper. She was sympathetic. I had no idea of Piper’s whereabouts, but I was still hurting. I was haunted.  

Sylvie and I didn’t exactly remain friends, but I felt I could talk to her from the depths of my suffering. She had been in her own hell for years, after all. There’s a humility that comes from despair. A mutiny that takes away any prefab phrases. The last time I saw her she gave me this advice: let it hurt until it fades away. I thought it was working, and then the indictment came, and Piper was in my life again, and soon we were locked up in the same prison. And it was like no time had passed. Sylvie wrote me when I was in Litchfield. She made no judgements and offered help. It’s not like we were going to become pen-pals, but I did write back, called back, enjoyed talking to her about our problems, and sometimes we could joke about it all. I had to let it freeze recently because of Piper’s jealousy. But I saw Sylvie with different eyes. We weren’t talking as an ex-couple but as two people who have been broken. A talk with its own codes. I wish I had this sometimes. 

#Sylvie

#ex-girlfriends

[axelsuave]

I have now the age my mom had when she died. I think of her, of what her life was, of how restless she was out of necessity, of how many years she had ahead, hadn’t it been for that lightening that took her away in less than a second. What type of death is that? Why couldn’t I see my mother age, bury her after time had claimed her? Love came to her in one wave, in the form of an unexpected package. A belly package that she fought for for a long time. So many adverse situations. She deserved better than a precarious life. She deserved better than a daughter that despised in silence poverty and was willing to risk her life so it would be a repetition of her mother’s struggles. So I made the worst decision of my life, motivated by bitterness, anger and sometimes desperation. 

Her love for me didn’t come to me in waves. It was always there, grounded, rooted. My other love came to me in waves. Intense, messy, painful and unavoidable despite the years apart. Apparently everyone knows better than us what it was all about. 

[axelsuave]

The old Piper

“The old Piper was a young woman in her early 20s, who as Larry put it, looked out into her future and was bored with what she saw. She knew the life that had been planned out for her, she knew what was expected of her, and she wasn’t thrilled with her options. When we meet the old Piper, she is applying for a job in a bar. At this point, Piper would have been a graduate with a degree. Realistically, she probably should have been searching for jobs that led to careers, not jobs being a waitress or a bartender. I think this represents Piper’s longing to prolong this exciting time in her life before the path that had been chosen for her by her upbringing finally took over. When Alex enters Piper’s life for the first time, she offers Piper an alternate path. Larry explained this as Piper wanting to be special, but I think it was Piper looking for some sort of freedom. She’d been conditioned to become this one thing for so long, and seeing Alex and seeing what she could offer her, was like watching a new path suddenly appear before her. The scene where Alex asks Piper to come with her is important, as its the exact point where Piper takes the plunge and completely dives into Alex’s world, basically leaving everything and everyone she knows behind. At this point in her life, Alex represents adventure and excitement and basically the very life that any twenty something year old craves. Alex was the short cut to the life Piper wanted.” – https://oitnbalexandpiper.tumblr.com/post/186700166794/piper-chapman-a-character-development-analysis

I never had the luxury of a therapist’s insight, but mom knew a thing or two about life and about me and my first real relationship. Piper didn’t follow me for an adventure or freedom, and I didn’t offer her an alternate path. I didn’t offer her anything because I wasn’t selling anything. I reordered my life –or at least the aspects that I could– so Piper could enter. I asked her to move in with me because I couldn’t bear to be apart from her, not even for one day. I asked her to travel with me because I couldn’t bear to leave her behind, not so early in the relationship. Not ever, really. And we were lucky, because right from the beginning, it was mutual. Insecure as I could be about this new and intense feeling, I spoke to my mom about it. She reassured me our relationship was built on mutual love. Piper accepted to come with me because she loved me. Just like Piper said to Larry when he was repeating the script his therapist sold him. It’s as easy as that, and also as difficult, because for years I thought she did love me, just not enough. 

[axelsuave]

I had to be brutally hurtful to send her away, to stop myself for being an obstacle. I’m glad she didn’t buy it. 

[axelsuave]

Kinks - Destroyer 1981

Isn’t it a funny thing she thought of this during one of my worst freak-outs. We first heard it on my mom’s turntable. I taped her the whole Kinks discography and she learned the lyrics by heart. It became one of our favorite bands. Hard to believe she tainted it while being with that kangaroo. 

-----

Met a girl called Lola and I took her back to my place Feeling guilty, feeling scared, hidden cameras everywhere Stop! Hold on, stay in control

Girl, I want you here with me But I'm really not as cool as I'd like to be 'Cause theres a red, under my bed And theres a little yellow man in my head And theres a true blue inside of me That keeps stopping me, touching ya, watching ya, loving ya

Paranoia, the destroyer Paranoia, the destroyer

Well I fell asleep, then I woke feelin’ kinda queer Lola looked at me and said, ooh you look so weird She said, man, there's really something wrong with you One day you’re gonna self-destruct You're up, you're down, I cant work you out You get a good thing going then you blow yourself out

Silly boy, ya self-destroyer Silly boy, ya self-destroyer

Silly boy, you got so much to live for So much to aim for, so much to try for You blowing it all with paranoia You're so insecure, you self-destroyer

Paranoia, the destroyer (Here it goes again) Paranoia, the destroyer

Doctor, Doctor, help me please, I know you'll understand Theres a time device inside of me, I’m a self-destructing man

There’s a red under my bed And theres a little green man in my head And he said, you're not going crazy, you're just a bit sad 'Cause there's a man in ya, gnawing ya, tearing ya into two

Silly boy, ya self-destroyer Paranoia, the destroyer

Self-destroyer, wreck your health Destroy your friends, destroy yourself The time device of self-destruction Light the fuse and start eruption

Paranoia, the destroyer (Here's to paranoia) Paranoia, the destroyer (Hey hey, here it goes) Paranoia, the destroyer (And it goes like this)

Paranoia, the destroyer (And it goes like this)

[axelsuave]

Digger

So I was going to elaborate the other day about that cool ex I had as a teenager. Digger. I was still living in Waltham and we’d hang out in the most ghetto ways possible because both of us were so poor and low-key. Sometimes she’d pick me up in her dad’s truck or even the mortuary car that belonged to her family’s business. It was equally gross, morbid and fun. Other times, when the cars were unavailable (weekends of accidents), she’d come to the house riding her bike. It was very uncomfortable to stand on those feet thingies attached to the wheels, but the thing took us places. One of those places was in fact the cemetery, the Calvary cemetery where her family had tons of business. Again, morbid but fun, and mostly, free. Except for the harsh winters, we’d spend hours there having picnics and making out, mostly because we were too broke to even go to the fair and the parks were always full of people and dogs. We had our privacy and I really didn’t think much of the bodies, but I did notice the headstones and the stories carved. It stimulated my imagination and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a certain sadness or heaviness while thinking about the people resting there. But I was so young and unaware of my own mortality. 

Digger was a goth girl, obviously. Like me, she wasn’t going to college, not because her parents couldn’t afford her tuition, but because she didn’t give a shit about her academic life. I had to help her get her high school certificate. It was a nightmare teaching her science and even literature. She wasn’t a reader, but she had a really good knowledge of English goth music. That, pot and my body were her main interests. I say my body because even if our relationship was sort of ok, we didn’t exactly had many interests in common. She could be inflexible and prejudiced. I’d skip any controversy and my only input was a little sarcasm, but she was slow and didn’t understand my comments. This could bore me, but other parts of Digger were so cool that I soon forgot about it. She was one of the few out girls I knew and that was a lot back in my time. We were never completely serious about each other and we were clueless about the future, so her proposal and her ring were jokes. She did grab a ring from a body and even shared the name of the lady. I laughed my ass about it but couldn’t bring myself to wear that thing without being assaulted by my imagination. I told her to put it back where it belonged. 

Once during early autumn we took our sleeping bags to the cemetery, we were making out and some weird shit happened that included the cold, night falling, some young guys running from the main avenue straight to where we were, and a couple of police officers chasing them. We managed to hide the sleeping bags, ran the fuck away and hid behind some bushes. My sight was already sucky but I could see how the cops took one of the guys back to the car and we could swear he did something awful to the kid. The other two managed to escape. But we could hear the kid in the car screaming. We were so livid after that. I think the cemetery was the place that linked me to Digger. Because I was so freaked out and didn’t want to visit the site for months after that event, Digger and I grew apart until we decided to call it quits. It was a friendly break-up. Pretty soon after Digger I had that fucked up episode with my father. I never told her about it. In fact Digger sort of moved away and stopped emailing me. I lost contact with her. Via facebook I know she moved to another state and is working in the same business as her family, I think make-up and embalming stuff.  

We made out here 👆

[axelsuave]

between ‘I love you’ and ‘I love you too,’ the absent presence of desire comes alive.

Anne Carson

Is it fair to say I was always “the more loving one”?