I’m going to take a punt on this and say that first and most importantly, Jesus would probably use his brain and the power of deductive foresight to not crucify the one person that could offer humanity all the answers to life and living. But seeing as it’s far too late to even go there, all I can do is offer vague speculations as to what the main man would do if he were still around today.
Music has always been a very important part of my life, enduring the comings and goings of boyfriends, but I never realised how important it is to keep good music out of relationships until recently. Sure, I’ve had boyfriends and meaning riddled songs and breakups since I was in high school, but somehow Bon Jovi power ballads and the Dawson’s Creek soundtrack were much easier to give up than the songs I love now.
We’d all crowd into the bathroom and look at the poop glaring up at us from the tiled floor. If it was in the open we’d crowd around it and scream and point. If it was in a cubicle we’d take turns looking at it through the door or stand on the toilets in the adjoining cubicles peering over the top of the cubicle wall, screaming and pointing.
We went back outside to the table where everyone was sitting, and there I was, between Dan and my boyfriend, with my ex and my secret sexual fantasy sitting directly across from us. Dan and I talked. He showed me his Flip and being the giant nerd that I am I thought it was really cool and it made me like him more. We talked and we told jokes and we picked on each other and flirted inappropriately.
Start partying as it gets warmer. Get to the club at 3am and don’t leave until midday the following day. Wonder how you’ll ever keep up with this sort of party lifestyle. Go to Berghain at least once. Get a bar job in an illegal club and start going to underground parties where the walls sweat and people like Dan Deacon play for free. Start to genuinely love electro music.
Recently my American housemate sampled some of my Vegemite while I was out of the house and she hated it. When I quizzed her about how she had eaten it I was horrified to hear that she didn’t layer it with margarine, nor did she toast her bread. “That’s not how you do it!” I screamed at her, cheeks turning rosy (rosy, not red, because I’m a happy little Vegemite, as bright as bright can be!).
I’m both fascinated and revolted by my food baby. I look at it sometimes and stroke it, pondering the wonder of life — the awesomeness of the human body that it can contract and expand in such a way relative to what’s inside it. And then I look at it sometimes and wonder why, WHY, must I always look like I have a fucking small human growing inside of me every time I have a meal?
He kissed me by the taco truck and something stirred inside my underpants. The smell of sweat and tacos invaded my senses and I was rapt by the wetness of his mouth against mine. He pressed against me slightly and I felt his bits waking up too. When he asked if I wanted to get out of there I didn’t have to think twice. Not only was I in summer heat, it had been… a while, and I was feeling restless.
When I first moved to New York people warned me about the summer, “it’s so hot and awful, you won’t survive!” Bitch, don’t you know I’m from Australia? So come on New York, chin up. I understand how hot it is but saying so every thirty seconds isn’t going to make it any cooler.
When Daniel and I first started messaging each other on Facebook, Tweeting at each other and Skype chatting, I had the immediate instinct that when he got to New York we were going to fuck and that it was an unavoidable causal effect of us knowing each other. I’d never met him but I was drawn to him in the intrinsic way that a drunk is drawn to a cheeseburger—I wanted to have him even though he was only being served miles away.