26 April 2000 ~ Fliers and an inability to forget...

So I'm walking through the State University of New York at Binghamton campus...

It's been a slow week. I need entertainment. And not the kind of entertainment that occurs when I sit on my roof watching drug deals and shootings with bad rap music playing in the background. So I came over here with my mom this morning and have been wandering for the better part of an hour.

It's funny, the stupid memories that just hit you out of fucken nowhere when you're not really thinking about anything in particular.

I found a flier advertising a free concert: They Might Be Giants. I'd really like to go, but I'm working that night. See, I can't stand They Might Be Giants. Erich pretty much ruined them for me. They've got a song called "S-E-X-X-Y," and he was always telling me that that song had been written for me... I dunno... He always made it sound really derogatory, and I could never figure out what the song was about anyway, because he was always standing there leering over my shoulder like, "hah hah, this song is SOOOOO about YOU!" and it just irked the shit out of me, so I never bothered listening to the words. I'd really like to go to that concert though, maybe have the band members autograph my flier, and then send it to him, just to irk the shit out of him. They Might Be Giants is one of his favorite bands.

Is it wrong to, years after a stupid breakup with a stupid person, still feel little twinges and urges to be petty and demeaning to someone who was constantly petty and demeaning to you? In all honesty, I guess it shows a few negative traits about me: unwillingness to forgive, inability to forget, and a partial lack of conscience when it comes to pettiness and revenge. Yes, years later, I'd still like SOMETHING to shove down that asshole's throat to make him fucking gag. If I have to use a respectable band like They Might Be Giants to do it, I'd do it. I mean, I am working, so I can't, but you know...

When Erich and I were together, I sort of cheated on him. With Aaron. And so Erich drove me around all night making me feel guilty. And twenty minutes before he would have dropped me off, he shoved a tape into his stereo: this stupid mix tape of "Helena-songs." One of them was... oh, hell, it's that song that goes, "Sugar, sugar, honey, honey, you're my little candy-girl..." or something like that. Prior to my little episode with Aaron, he used to play it in some stupid attempt to seduce me. That night, he played it to shame me. It didn't really work exactly the way he wanted; it just made me feel cheap, but I can't imagine that he cared muc. I started to cry, just thinking about what a damn whore I was -- not that I really cared what effect my sluttiness-factor had on Erich -- and he tossed the tape out the window and proceeded to pretend to comfort me.

I really, really, really hated him. I'd KILL to go to that concert. Make a videotape of it, maybe. And send it to him with the tape pulled out. Or with me standing there gloriously enjoying the concert. Oh, what-the-fuck ever. I'm just going to drop it. Erich is an evil bastard and taunting him would be like tying up the devil in your basement and poking at him with sticks.

So I took the flier and just kept walking...

I encountered another flier, and let me read this one to you directly: "NOT GETTING ENOUGH WOMEN? Join the Willey-Clinton Date-by-Rape Club! Juanita Broaddrick Confirmed! Hillary Approved! Call 1-202-456-1414 for Membership Details." Hm... Now, I haven't read the papers in QUITE a long time, unless something noteworthy happens (I do not consider the President's sex-life noteworthy, sorry, and I barely know what the Starr report IS...), and this whole thing sort of bothered me... I mean, is there REALLY a date-by-rape club? I just looked up the telephone number on numberfinder.com, and it's turned out to be the number for the White House (neat, huh!?), so I'm not too freaked anymore. I guess it's just a way to make a political statement? I dunno... I know I'll not be voting for Hillary Clinton for senator, and I know I don't friggin' like the Green Party, but short of a major revolution overthrowing the entire government and economics system, I don't think I'll ever be happy with anything political. So. Anyway. I kept walking.

I walked through the Hinman Building. I haven't been there in years. But there's a certain... smell... I can't really identify it... It's just something that seems to linger in that building... It brought back a few memories, all of them unpleasant. Well, almost all of them unpleasant. There was one little snippet I'd tucked away of Peter and I throwing wads of American cheese at a student production of "A Chorus Line" and forming a hate group against its director via hotmail. Heh. Yeah, that's a good memory. I've never in my life laughed so hard during a theater production as when I saw Peter squishing his fingers into a short stack of Lunchables American cheese and smirking at the stage...

There were other memories too. Ones I don't really talk about.

I'm sitting in the library now. Maybe I'll wander upstairs and lose myself in a good book about, like, criminal justice or something.

Later!
~Helena*

"...And I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day; take me to the place I love, take me all the way... And I don't ever wanna feel, like I did that day..." --Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Under the Bridge."