drying out our tongues in protest.

I do not like Bon Iverotica (anymore).

I used to love the tumblr Bon Iverotica. I laughed and cried and blushed and had to go sit by myself for a few moments after reading it. I thought why not me when the Bon Iver character would give the writer, his lover, an acorn or a torn ribbon. I wanted to go on those picnics and stargaze. I wanted Bon Iver to tell me that it is okay for me to cry. 

Now I hate him. Not the actual Bon Iver, of course, but this abstracted sexualized version of Bon Iver. I hate the way he controls his lover. Why doesn’t the lover ever write about their own experiences? It’s never “today I made Bon Iver breakfast and he loved it and I felt good because I love seeing him happy,” which would be an okay, if not uninteresting, love story. Instead, it’s about how Bon Iver does this and that. The lover never talks about the things they hate to see alone. The lover never plans picnics or fixes old bikes. 

The Bon Iver character is controlling, both emotionally and narratively. The story focuses on him as a lover, which I know is the point, but the relationship is not a partnership. The lover/narrator often says “and then he _____” without noting their own emotions towards the action. And, most of the time, it’s always something dumb that Bon Iver does. Bon Iver went to the farmers’ market today! Then he made love to me!

It really bothers me and it also really bothers me that I am bothered by it.

I shouldn’t care about that.  

It is strange.

It’s strange to ride the subway at 2pm. It’s crowded and you’re forced to stand back to back with someone you’ll never speak to, using their body to keep yourself upright. It’s strange that it’s that full at 2pm. I consider asking some where they are going, do they work, is it their day off, but I don’t ask and no one offers.

It’s strange living and breathing and working and touching, but never talking and never knowing. It’s strange.

I received a thank you from my internship.

It was a crumpled certificate that just said I worked there for 9 months and an audio CD of a man talking about what it’s like to be an executioner. The cover of the CD is a man being injected with poison. 

…why did this happen?

Recent questions I have been asked.

Have you heard of the Beach Boys?

Do you know what a brontosaurus looks like?

Are you showing me porn?

What kind of tea would you like?

Are you sure this isn’t porn?

Editing

and all I can hear is the ice cream truck outside. So many regrets.