OTHER GIRL

 

(I don't believe HE fully understands my intentions, nor is he capable of assessing their seriousness and degree of realism, nor does it seem certain to me that he understood my sudden resolution (of what? I also wonder), distracted as he seems to me in his fury of constant locomotion, full of sudden stops and abrupt cessations of movement, which make his world appear and disappear, and others much better, or worse, the paradise of the poor --- only in the last few days have I found myself able to trust the idea that he might actually be engaged in hooking me, even if through a thousand precautions, hesitations, bluffs, and deliberations, and according to diverse qualities and conveniences --- as for LOVE, you all see, it is often a game for me, I am cured of it, but I also always foresee myself entering a slippery slope, always meditating and rounding out each phrase or signal, before my vague, superficial antipathy gives way to kindness and passion for this "game," until the point at which it becomes enjoyable to play --- from the initial, very superficial point of imperceptible secret admiration to that point of effervescent flattery in which jealousy, regrets, disillusionment, demands and obscure mannerisms that hide anger and cold annoyances are inaugurated, forcing me to sell each courtesy or fortuitous consent at an ever higher price --- being a cultured young man, who has already read a lot, it is likely that now, at thirty or forty, he has already reached that degree of existential fatigue in which the body seeks to relieve itself of accumulated desires in a comfortable, safe and appropriate way, and not madly and festively in the midst of the open chaos of the city --- without wasting too much time questioning itself about passionate times of the past, perhaps already totally dissipated in the consciousness of his illusory inspiration of the moment by the mystical name that he now demonstrates he carries in secret, and that protects his "spontaneity" from silly mistakes --- why not? : the vague SHE of your last drafts sounds to me like the amber-colored “odalisque in the bath,” and doesn’t seem fit to compete with the calm and discreet light that I represent to any man who seeks my mouth with his lips; HE persisting in this apparently empty diligence until now (I need to analyze the issue better), unless everything he says about tantrism and meditation is true, I really don't know --- and in a discreet and absorbed way, he will find himself feeding only on expensive, wasteful and almost sterile artifices, which will replace his affable and flattering appearance of the moment with the extraordinary emphatic airs of someone who conducts a complicated and superior ritual among deceitful, greedy, demanding and promiscuous ladies --- where did the rum omelet recipe I was reading before thinking all this go?)