Prose and Cons

Okay guys, listen up. I know you've all stopped following my blog, but it's time to rejoin the throngs. Starting in January, I will be hosting (with Justine Middleton) a new fiction and nonfiction show called Prose and Cons. Are we the cons? Is Rafael the con? Are we all cons here? Who knows, but it's a crime not to have a good prose show already, right? So, the show is on World Wide Word Radio Network, basically a sister show to the Moe Green Poetry Discussion. So far we've booked Nick Flynn for January, and I'm reading some badass books sent through Norton that I think would make for good shows. So keep an ear out. I'll be posting updates here and through facebook. Especially if I can figure out how to stream the show from here (and I think I can!). Yeah, I see html thingies up near the top, so I think this will work out.

Wow, I'm pretty gross.

Wow, let me update you, blog. I've been not updating at all, and as far as the blogging world is concerned, it looks like I've been in Hong Kong a long time. Not so! I will not tell all that has been happening. Suffice it to say enough. Enough enough. Too much maybe? Maybe.

I've been thinking of updating for a while. I like to travel to my page and look at my octopus girl at the top. So in love with the giant hand that's captured her. He is probably not a giant. She is probably very small.

Here is why I'm updating now. I received an email from the editor of GUD magazine with a forwarded message from Matt Dennison saying that he found his name on my blog and wanted to get in touch. Haha, of course I made a giant fool of myself and expressed my unashamed love stalker style and added him immediately to facebook. Can we say crazy 22-year-old writer girl, anyone? Obsessed fan is easier to say, I guess.

I've only really had two fans who didn't know me first, and they both lost interest pretty quickly. Aw. I don't need fans. I have cats. Plus one of these "fans" started pushing the I-think-you're-attractive angle a little too quickly. I'll stroke your ego if you stroke my-- lol. I should use that line someday. Maybe it'll slut me up and build my rep. Ugh, I try too hard to be clever.

Anyway, what I really wanted to write about here was older men. I've discovered something important (in my forray (spelling? I have no excuse for misspelling online. Only laziness. Which seems like a wonderful excuse at the moment) into the dating world) and that is that even though I'm attracted to older men, I can't trust the older men who are interested in me. It's a catch 22. I am doomed to men my own age. No, I can find a way around it. The Annie Hall paradox line that I'm about to butcher says something about not wanted to be a part of any club that would except him as a member. The way it works here is that if any older man is interested in dating a 22 year old, there must be something wrong with him, and he then becomes undatable. Bah! I guess the secret is to just pursue the good ones relentlessly until they give in. This has been my strategy. I am the perv here, not you. But seriously, the last guy I dated was way older, and the problem was that he thought he was way smarter than I am. I would like to think this is not true (and I'm actually pretty sure I'm correct in this assessment (I'm smart, dammit!)), but either way, he's totally an asshole for suggesting it. Why do I go for assholes? Why can't smart guys be nice? It shouldn't be either/or. Somehow it always seems to be. Omar was brilliant and not an asshole. Omar was really really nice and really really smart. And he had the ability of making me feel not nice and not smart. But this was me, and not him. This gives me hope. Most other people I dated were either/or. Sorry exes. If you're reading this, then I probably don't mean you, lol.

The whole dating thing is a little ridiculous. You are a stranger, but I want you to connect with me on the deepest level. I need you to! And like me. For God's sake, like me. I am a crazy person. I have accepted this, but in accepting it, I hide less. And dating is all about hiding everything. You can't be crazy. No one wants to date a crazy person. I, Alicia Adams, am a crazy person. I have accepted this. Really, I just want someone to love me for all my craziness. Instead of despite it. Haha, in a million years I'll find this person, maybe. And for now I'll romp and roll on my own. Romp romp romp. Watch me gnash my teeth. Are you watching? Some day they'll all be drilled away, and then I'll gum your arm. Love me, I'll say, as the nerve endings circle your wrist.