frank_unhinged_private_psychology unhinged their relationship was just a veiled pretense to fuck. when the sex got boring they drifted apart in mutually exclusive pursuits of true love. but they always ended up drifiting in the same orbit. they paraded their love under each other's noses at the top hat or le cage. it was some perverted mating dance of power and magnetic attraction. she liked the way his eyes crumbled and begged as she looked over love's shoulder on the dance floor. hel ike the way she controlled him. her suicidal tendencies made him feel inferior. he bought her black roses and built her pedestals. she never climbed them. their relationship was a veiled pretense to fuck. they met like chaos and retreated fractally, spinning in on each other like low resolution computer graphics, but every touch was like the highest power of a compound microscope. they raced from episode to episode connected by fantasy and image. their mutual accquaintances always expected intrigue of them. it was given among the group that they were together of their mutually independent celebrity. society expected them together for the entertainment value. it was a veiled pretense of the veiled pretense to fuck. it gave them all their imagined courage to mystery when they were taught by example. they whispered when she brought true love to the top hat. she wasn't supposed to be happy; smile. they laughed at his attempts to pretend that he could live without her. their chours of sneers deepened his inferiority. she loved him behind closed doors more slowly and sweetly than any true love on any dance floor. he was something better than the game she had to play and she wanted him all to herself. he liked the way she controlled him. she went to the bathroom and he followed her. the electrical impulses between the nerve endings of their lips arced from atom to atom; the highest power of a compound microscope. love was swallowed up by accquaintance on the dance floor and they stood on the frigne of dancing bodies, his finger in her hand, a soft crumble to her eyes. they left and went home. the next morning the sheets stayed crumpled in a swirl of phantom legs and arms on her bed while they got ready to go to work together. the group was expecting bright eyes and smiles of mutual satisfaction. he kissed her neck while she put up her hair. she looked at him through the mirror and the door closed. she left the bedroom and didn't say another word to him for the rest of the day. the next morning, a dozen black roses were delivered to her studio. she danced with him at le cage. the universe will soon be converging she thought. his eyes never left her. the chorus of sneers held their breath. nothing moved. 021107 ... frAnk he read it again and then closed the book. some of it so real. he pressed his fingertips on his eyes and saw the swirling images, felt himself inside of her. smelled the roses. heard the music of the clubs. he set the book on the coffee table and picked up the telephone. it was her first time published and already she was a media darling. she called him last night about a party her publicist demanded she go to. everyone would be there. she wanted him to go with her. he pressed her number from the recorded phonebook. she answered on the third ring. 021109 ... unhinged she was sitting by the phone when it rang. she was expecting him to call. she restrained her knee-jerk impulse to pick the phone up and let it ring a few more times. of course it was him. of course he would go. she hung up the phone and stared at the book on her coffee table. she was sure he had read it at least three times already. she hadn't seen him since she had the publisher send him an advanced copy. her story was just a story. only the two of them knew how really it actually was. she picked up the bowl that was laying on the coffee table next to the book and smoked herself a little further into the numb state she was used to without him. there would be reviewers there asking questions. of course he would know that. like 'how much of this story is fiction?' he was a smart boy. she depended on him to say the correct words without prompting. her story was just a story. she sat in front of her t.v. alone, watching howard stern, numb and uninvolved. 021109 ... frAnk he loved hearing her voice. he sat, telephone still in his hand, staring into the space where he kept the memories of them together... the first night they met, he had been walking along smallman street, just after the rain. he went into kaya, a tiny caribbean restaurant, because he liked the bar and the beautiful people who ordered microbrews and fruity drinks, where the alcohol was dangerously hidden like a snake who bites you after you are already numb. she was sitting with a friend. he sat beside her because there was a stool open, because he liked the way she wore her hair, because she was cute, just talking. he ordered a red seal and drank half of it, watching her when she seemed unawares. but she felt every one of his gazes. he took a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote something on it and slid it over to her. she was laughing about something with her friend but he knew all along that his interest was warm upon her soul. she had felt it ever since he sat down. the piece of paper was a moon appearing in the clouds of darkness between them, a momentary light shining for a brief second, long enough for them to both breathe and notice each other silmultaneously. she caught it out of her peripheral vision and then naturally looked into his eyes. he felt a quick warmth of acceptance like one standing in the winter's cold and welcomed inside to a log burning fire. she picked up his thought and read. 021113 ... unhinged the television was boring. howard was talking to some porn star about her newest endeavors; no lesbian sisters making out. she turned the t.v. off. her eyes kept circulating between the book, the pipe, the t.v. remote. she picked up the book and the piece of paper fell out. his handwriting was angular in permanent marker on a piece of paper he must have found in his pocket or something. 'have you ever had a premonition that turned out to be beautiful foresight?' she hated thinking of it because she still looked back on that moment, that piece of paper, the resulting moments with fondness. she still wanted to be close to him. see his adoring eyes every morning when they woke up. she left the living room to inspect her closet. she needed something special to wear. there was one last time to be caught up in all the stupid things. there was one last time to love him. happiness was like a disease to her after awhile and she needed a change of scenery, a breath of hostile fresh air. but there was one last time to see if they could still melt into each other. even though she was old by teenage standards, he was the first person that had ever held her completely. she looked through her closet and wondered if he would be the last. she looked over her shoulder at the nightstand, staring at the unopened drawer. sometimes it would just be so easy she thought. 021113 ... frAnk the little piece of paper with his question. he remembered seeing it once in a book of hers that first week after they met. she had saved it, like a souvenir of something she wanted to never forget. he loved that. he thought back to that first time she picked it up from the bar counter and brought it close to her face to read. how he kept his beer glass to his lips until she finished and then looked over at him. he set the glass down. their eyes locked, but not longer than they could stand the penetrating heat. the blisters on the soul. she looked down at the question again and he watched her as she thought of something to say in response. her dark hair falling on her shoulders, highlights catching the neon illumination from the stacks of many colored bottles. her long eyelashes blinking, revealing the bright eyes of interested beauty. her full lips glistening with the moisture of her drink, of her present excitement. straight white teeth presenting radiance, as if a smile was the only way to say he was welcomed. she laughed. giggled with slight innocent embarrassment. "i don't know," she said, but he knew she was lovely. "i don't think so." their eyes, once more a fixed gaze. his heart was beating like a trapped bird in his chest. 021114 ... unhinged she walked out of the closet and sat down on the bed. she felt like she had slept years in that bed without him. she kicked her shoes off and laid down on it. tomorrow was the party. the only redeeming factor was him. she reached up to turn out the lamp and pulled the heavy covers over her head. ... she woke up and it was still dark outside. for a second she thought she had only been sleeping for a moment but she looked at the clock and it said 5pm. she had to be ready in two hours. she wanted to crawl into bed with him when he knocked on the door and not let him leave. her dreams had worked against her. she dreamt about the night they met. she smiled too much; his intense stare made her want to wriggle in her seat. the way he would not let her leave without a kiss. she threw the covers off the bed and got into the shower. 021115 ... Dafremen You two are getting me riled up and ready for the revolution. Do go on. P.S. Do0d girl, this may sound strange, but the movement has begun. Everything I've blathered about is coming to pass. There are now three people I have met who have felt the same thing. None of us are really lunatics. More like fed up old geezers who have waited all of our lives for this. Carry on Frank, unhinged, dearest do0d. 021115 ... frAnk he checked the clock. it was five, still plenty of time before he was to pick her up. he opened the wardrobe. there was the shirt he wore the night he met her. in a instance his mind was back to that first night... he watched her turn away from him for a second to whisper something in her friend's ear. seconds later, she asked him if he wanted to join them. they wanted to go to another bar called roland's. his entire insides leaped. they stepped into the rain and hurried along the slickened sidewalks, avoiding cars as they hurridly crossed the street. they exchanged names as raindrops dotted the surface of the puddles. leigh. david. he opened the door for them and instantly the cold wind and wet night was swallowed up by loud music, the clanking of bottles, and so many beautiful people. she entered and was another one. they met friends of hers as soon as they reached the top of the wooden stairs and there were drinks for everyone. he loved to watch her amongst these amiable ones. he saw her true colors and felt priviledged somehow to be a part of her world. and when she wasn't talking to them, he was touching her. first a finger, then a hand, arm, shoulder, hair, back. they laughed, joked, philosophized, figured out a cure for cancer. suddenly, she was whispering in the ear of the friend he first met back in the original bar. she excused them to the restroom. while they were gone, he approached her group of friends which had grown larger by the minute. he was slowly getting drunk and introduced himself asking strangers without hesitation if there was only one word they were allowed to utter what would it be. the responses were as varied as their countenances, but one struck him like a bolt of lightening. "csirkefogo." the paper read. it was from a man who suspiciously gazed at him when he was with leigh. it was a hungarian word. translated, it meant weasel. leigh came out of the restroom and made a beeline for her, straight into his arms. "let's get out of here, just you and me," she said, and her throaty whisper went straight to his soul where it erupted like a blast of fireworks. 021116 ... unhinged she had just got out of the shower when the phone rang. it was karago. he knew she was going to the party with david. 'you know leigh i think it may not be a good idea.' his english was always a little too formal with his mysterious eastern accent whispering over the telephone line. 'karago....i told you this would be the last time. you know i am moving in a few weeks. i just want to see him again. i just got out of the shower.' 'so you have no clothes on?' 'no.' no_reply 'i have to get ready to leave. he's going to be here soon.' karago hung up the phone without saying anything. good goddamn, why did he have to act like that? she didn't ask him to fall in love or be infatuated or whatever the hell his problem was. she felt his anger balling up inside her. he had hated david since that night she took him to roland's. she thought she knew why but she never said anything to him. even before she put any clothes on, she picked up the bedroom bowl that made it's home on the nightstand and smoked the rest of what she had left in it the night before. getting dressed was so much easier, forgetting about men was so much easier, if she was just a teeny bit high. she looked at the clock. 5:45. a little over an hour and he would be here. she smiled at the tone of karago's voice. it would be over soon. 021117 ... frAnk david was dressed. with half an hour still left before he would pick-up leigh, he popped the cork on a bottle of merlot. he poured a splash into the red wine glass and brought it ceremoniously to his nose. the bouquet brought a deluge of continuing memories of that first night swirling in his mind... as they stepped out of roland's into the late summer drizzle, leigh motioned to where her black saab was parked. david hurried her over, his hand in hers, and then followed her in his pick-up. he watched the red tailights reflecting on the glistening asphalt, lines on a map that he had no idea where they would lead him. she seemed to avoid the main roads, optioning to take narrow, secluded one way streets to unknown city neighbourhoods without yards. dogs who barked out their lazy warnings and shook the rain from their soaked fur before they returned to their boredom. finally, she parked along a crowded residential street, leaving him no space to join her. he settled for a parallel street and sprinted back to where he left her. he called her name. it sounded foreign to him, like one trying to utter a word in another language. but when he heard her call his name, it was a paean to spontaneous romance. they reunited. even two minutes apart seemed too long. they had arrived at her local dive, a polish basement bar called gooski's. it was obvious she wanted to show him off. this really big fish she caught. david liked the attention and played along with it, but was a little disappointed that her idea of getting out by themselves was limited to being in the presence of her many city friends. "let's go to soba," david said in a rare moment when she wasn't flexing her muscles of cultural and literary intelligence. "soba?" she asked, knowing it to be a quiet cafe with a third floor lounge that was very intimate and private. "yes," she said. "definately soba." 021117 ... unhinged she sprayed on her perfume and the doorbell rang. her heart missed a beat. she looked at herself in the mirror but the reflection was cracked and blurry. she could tell her eyes were barely opened. he wasn't going to be happy. she opened the door and her heart stopped again. he looked at her for what she thought was an extra long moment. 'come in. i have to finish getting my stuff together.' he sat down on the couch that had always been there and wriggled a little bit; took his coat off. he looked around; things felt different. he noticed a half-smoked bowl laying on the coffee table. he picked it up and held it like he didn't know what to do with it. she walked back into the room with her suede coat on and her eyes glassy. he meant to say 'what's this?' but nothing came out. she put her head down and walked out the door. 021117 ... frAnk david checked his watch. time to go. he felt relaxed and ready. pulling into traffic and stopping at the first red light, he sighed deeply and looked ahead to the mitsubishi eclipse in front of him. he watched as the female passenger leaned over and affectionately kissed the driver. david slid zero seven into the cd player and continued his nostalgic day dream of leigh... her saab pulled into soba's parking lot at a little past midnight and he followed in right behind her. they stood together for a moment in the damp air contemplating the definition of what they had become, surveying the potential of what lay ahead. he took her hand into his and led her inside. the cafe had recently closed, but the third floor martini lounge was still open. they climbed the stairs and entered the darkened room, sitting down on a cozy leather couch sequestered in a private area away from the bar and dance floor. he asked her what she wanted and she said merlot. from that day on he would always drink merlot. he thought it bizarre that frnak sinatra was playing as they sat close, not talking, sipping the liquid velvet. but the music was as faraway as who he was. he left everything behind him during this swirling moment when her face turned towards him and her brown eyes stared deep into his blueness, her full lips parting, shining with the wine and the candlelight. magnetic connection. dissolving delirium. he would always remember their first kiss as the softest sensation he would ever know. he was lost in her. he could die now and he would be happy. song after song. he touched her face with his hands. she ran her fingers through his hair. they kissed until they were politely told the lounge was closing. two hours passed like two minutes. moments later, side by side in the parking lot, he took her into his arms and they stood as one new creation faced with a decision. "can i stay the night with you?" david asked. a light mist was falling from the fog. she hesitated and in her silence he fought the thought of being separated from her. "i can't leave you," he said, and he was begging. she lived in an apartment only a few blocks away, so they rode in her car. they stepped together through the black iron gate, past the trickling fountain and the rose garden, through the heavy oak door and up the winding marble stairs, their footsteps echoing. she turned the key and they entered a brand new world of surrender. she led him to the bedroom and he removed her clothes article by article, discovering the beauty that the greek gods once relished. and he fell like a star, crashing, exploding. he did not sleep in fear of missing one moment of her sighs and moans... david turned his truck right on bennigton ave. and into a parking spot along the street. he shook off the dreamy recollection of their first night and walked quickly up to leigh's apartment. he rang the bell. a lot of convoluted history had passed between them from that initial collision of soul and body. and he was pulled apart at the seams wondering what they were. what was coming in between them. her success? his mystery? her drug use? his drinking? her eyes were glassy again. there was a bowl on the table. but she was gorgeous and he was drunk. 021122 ... unhinged she got into his car and waited for him. he seemed to take too long to come out. she looked at the road; straight ahead. he was looking at her, of course and she thought of the piece of paper in the book on the living room table. he started the car with a muffled sigh and drove to the gallery where the party was being held. 'park in the back.' she struggled to make her voice sound indifferent. she wanted to scream, cry. she wanted to sit this close to him forever. but no words came out. and he kept looking at her the way that he did....and she thought of karago and how he was right. this wasn't a good idea. the car stopped and she got out. she started to walk away. 'leigh. please stop.' it was always him begging her. she felt like she was being torn apart, standing still her back to him and the look she knew was on his face. she felt him standing beside her more than she saw him. her head was spinning. maybe it was the drugs. 'maybe i should have come here by myself.' 'why? would you please look at me?' he spun her to face him. her eyes shattered into a million pieces in the parking lot and she started to move away but he pulled her closer, harder, wrapped his arms around her. she was like a tense ball of lead in his arms and he ran his fingers up and down her back. she could smell the wine on his breath. 'let me go david.' her voice cracked. 021122 ... unhinged _unhinged_private_psychology 021211 what's it to you? who go blather from