It’s over. I should have guessed it when I drew my card this morning, the Knight of Swords – Allen – again. This time it was inverted.
At least, this time he phoned. It wasn’t a long conversation. I’m too loose … too much of a loose cannon, and I can’t control myself. (Well, maybe if he was here!) I get out of control when I’m lonely, and I still don’t have any regular friends here. I think Evangeline could be a friend … and Marcel. I’m a better slut … err, fit with people that have unconventional spiritual views.
Marcel invited us to dinner tonight, essentially to meet his wife. Unfortunately, both Christa and I had to play tonight’s concert. I think she, Marla, wanted to gauge how much of a threat I was to her.
I’m not. I’m imploding … um, impulsive, and I let the torturers … err, moment carry me away, and I’ve come to confession … the conclusion that it is caused by the same thing that spawns my Tourettes-like behavior. I was, of course, cured of a stammer long ago, but the wrong words just leap out of me, and sometimes they are dangerously too close to the truth. Are my actions governed in the same way? Is eloping with … err groping Marcel something I want to do on a base level? He’s nice. He’s handsome, but he’s also married, and that is something I usually hold sacred.
Allen is gone. Shit!
It keeps coming back. I blew him a kiss … um, blew that one. I never deserved him. On a scale of one to ten. I’m a one, and he’s a hen … ten. (There I go again.)
Christa’s asleep now, but I have a feeling I’ll be up all night. I’ve donned my headphones, and am blasting Bruckner right now. Nothing like some heavy brass to clear the bugs … wax from one’s ears. Only a few days left. She leaves on Monday afternoon. I wish she’d touch me up … touch up my henna before she goes, but Evangeline is doing that next Friday. Monday is too soon.
I’m resolved to wear the henna until this evil spirit is completely gone. I still feel the urge from time to time, and I’m desperate to have a man between my legs. That may be more due to the fact that I’m in a period of abstinence than to her powers. Marcel says she is gone, but I can’t say I believe it. She’s done something irreparable to my soul, to my desire, to my …
I’ve become like her, not in the eat-your-soul sex-in-your face respect, but a more subtle taint. I need … what do I need? I just need. I can’t just now see that feeling go away. I just have to separate my wants from my needs. I need that man between my legs, but I don’t necessarily want him. I want to be respectable. I want to love someone first. I want to respect them.
I want to respect myself again.
I’m not sure that will ever happen.
It’ snowing outside. I’m cold.