The Watcher

A friend came to talk about his book (yes yes that's me all important editor), we shall call him Organized Writer, to differentiate from Mad Writer, and we ended up talking about the people we know in common and how their brains work.

So CB's brain is like a very neat, self-contained spiral, going smoothly, logically, rationally and methodically from level to level of every idea. MW's brain is completely insane, fizzing and spitting and dancing all over the place--like Brownian motion on crack. OW's brain is also fairly random, but with some underlying structure, either previously imposed or something it's working towards. Youngest Member will keep fiddling till he gets it. (This was all much better with the actions, which is how it actually transpired.) So then I said, what about me?

And he said, you? you're sitting here on the side, watching.

I have never had someone nail me down so perfectly. I'm a watcher.

I need to sit facing the maximum number of exits in any room, or the maximum amount of the room possible, which I joke about being related to having been a drug lord in a previous birth, but really, it's the best way to keep an eye on what's going on.

I love knowing things about people--even if I don't know them, or never will, I really, really, REALLY need to know all their stories.

I love being in groups of people at home, where I can watch my friends, what they're doing, how they're reacting to people and things.

I love sitting in the middle of a crowded place and watching people go by. I used to sit on a bench in the median on Broadway and watch people.

I love going to places and discussing what people are wearing, saying, might be thinking...

I love watching things and extrapolating things from what I see. I love watching humanity and trying to figure out what makes people tick. Maybe that's why I'm so madly social.

And the clincher? I'm an EDITOR! I WATCH BOOKS BEING WRITTEN!

Concentric circles

Chocolate Boy has a theory (that he says he saw in an article) that Delhi works in concentric circles. You hang out with people who live where you live, which is why you're always running nito the same people everywhere, etc, and the only thing that cuts through those circles is the metro.
I'm not convinced.

But, it is a lovely launchpad into a theory I formulated lying in bed at 1130 on a Sunday night, in response to CB's request that I introduce him to more cool people of that quality--referring to an old friend from the Pisspot who had been in town. My response: What can I say, Delhi limits me. All my real friends are of this quality, and they're not here.

And Eureka!

I have about four concentric circles of friends. The smallest and the closest has my family, and those people i don't even have to think about (though this once included the Dragon, so I wonder), the people I can say ANYTHING to, and whose opinions will make me rethink my situation. I have one Circle 1 person in Delhi, but he's been really caught up the past two months, in his own budding relationship and his own family drama.

Then there's Circle 2, which is the people I'd call if I were in trouble, and who I miss if I don't see often enough. This is my band of bewdas and CB and Mad Writer--the last two being very recent additions and slightly shaky, cos I've only known them about six months, and I don't really know if it is a reciprocally secure closeness. But they are there, which is good. They are also the only Circle 2 people I have here.

Circle 3 is people I would call to parties and like to see regularly, but don't really miss if I don't see often. Most of my Delhi friends are in this circle. They're great fun to go out and do something, but they're not people I'd stay home with.

And Circle 4 is people whom I'm happy to see, but don't really notice if I don't see. Which is the rest of my Delhi friends.

So I went from living in a mainly Circle 1 and 2 group to living in a mostly Circle 3 and 4 group, with very minimal representation from Circles 1 and 2. No wonder I'm lonely and desperate and pathetic.

But rejoice! The Hag is moving here. Hallelujah!

100 Years*

(Old post. Left in the drafts. And yet, it kinda works still.)

MinCat's back y'all. This blog is like my little warm safe wormy hole. Is anyone reading even? Not that I'd blame you if you'd given up...

Once again I run back to you my dear blog, because once again I'm stuck at dame lo que quiero. The question, as always, is QUE es lo que quiero? What do I want. I don't know anymore. Sometimes I think I need to see a hypnotist...

Three days ago I was wondering if I made the biggest mistake of my life because I left BBot. Now I'm wondering why I'm breaking rules over someone else. Someone else. Story of my life. Forgive me, best beloved, I'm a little drunk and a lot lost. So expect a ramble.

This year's love had better last caterwauls David Gray, and well, I think I couldn't agree more. Is there a love this year? You tell me. I drove under the influence, to get him home, when all I wanted was for him to stay. I think of him six hundred times a day. Even when I'm with someone else. And yes, by with I mean in bed with. He's emotionally unavailable, completely guaranteed to drive me crazy with insecurity if we ever end up together. But oh god, when he's touching me, I can't think straight. When he's talking to me, I'm interested. For him, I will listen to Bob Dylan. I tell myself I don't want to, I should not, and then I try and make sure we can spend time alone together. I spent fifteen minutes trying to catch the spot on me that smells like him tonight. I want to wrap him around me and never let him go.

I thought I was all cool now and I could handle sleeping with someone I like. We fool ourselves often, no?

*cos it's playing now, and it's kinda apt no?