Am schimbat mai devreme un bec impreuna cu tata.
Am incercat mai multe becuri, lampa mea are 4 “sloturi”, am vazut ca doua fasunguri sunt duse, un bec se arsese, restul merg dar n-au in ce, eram amandoi cocotati pe pat si umblam la lampa si tineam becurile si ne ajutam…
Incerc sa-mi amintesc cand a fost ultima oara cand am facut ceva impreuna. Eu cu tata. Stii cum vezi in filmele americane… make a model airplane or smth… play ball in the back yard… that kind of crap. I would have liked that kind of crap. I would have loved that kind of crap. When, where the fuck did we fall apart that much ? Why ? Are men simply CURSED to have this competing thing going on between them, sa nu poata sta doi tipi in aceeasi camera fara sa simta dorinta de a demonstra fiecare ca EL are coaiele mai mari ? (adica are dreptate.) As fi putut trece cu vederea practic orice, toate discutiile in contradictoriu si toate absurditatile si toata dorinta lui de a demonstra cat de grozav e, daca am fi facut mai multe chestii impreuna, more father-son stuff… come to think of it, i never had a father figure. A male model. Sure, I idolized him when I was little but… timpul a trecut si pe zi ce trecea imaginea era din ce in ce mai vaga. I don’t know what being a man is because dad and every other male figure friend or relative I ever met were busy with just one thing : proving THEY had the bigger balls. Proving THEY were the men. The MEN. The manly men. No time to stop and teach the young one. E o lume cruda, sa se descurce. I hate men. And most of all I hate the concept of “being a man”. Nu stiu de unde au aparut, cine a inventat prejudecatile sociale cum ca barbatii adevarati trebuie fie niste duri si niste macho, un pic mai sus de niste brute, not that bright, totally impervious to the female bag-o-tricks and with an inexistent feminine side. Any guy that comes even close to concepts like sensitivity, emotions or matching clothes and colours is, at most, gay. “You know what magenta is ? You’re gay!” Fraza dintre ghilimele nu o gluma. Sunt cuvinte pe care mi le-a adresat un alt tip mie, acum vreun an. Just the concept of knowing what magenta is, ca nici nu se pusese problema de purtat, ii speria masculinitatea atat de mult incat, desigur, eu eram gay pentru ca stiam. Da, eu si cu oricine a lucrat vreodata intr-o tipografie or picture/video processing, dar nu i-am mai incarcat mintea cu o asemenea idee nastrusnica.
In 5-8 jucam baschet la orele de sport. I was never the sporty type. I was good at math, ok ? Anyway. Every guy was SO busy trying to prove something, trying to show how good he was, trying to score hoops, brag about it later in the locker room… am primit prima pasa la baschet in trimestrul 2 al clasei a saptea. Las cititorul un minut sa se aseze ideea. They would rather stay there, surrounded by three players from the opposite team and try to break free and run and score, instead of passing the ball to anyone, especially me. I wasn’t “one of the guys” and I wasn’t even trying to be one, so, they hated my guts. Cata logica. N-am inteles niciodata conceptul de bully. De unde atata refulare, de unde atata nesiguranta izvorata din faptul ca s-au nascut cu o pula mica, incat simt nevoia permanent sa arate ca nu e asa! I am a man grrr i have a big penis i will show you i will get on your case call you names and beat you up for no reason whatsoever so that all of the other guys think i am a macho man!
At least ranting about female flaws is fun. Men aren’t even worth the effort. If that’s what “being a man” means, being a brute, being a bully, being an asshole, just for the sake of getting other men’s approval, then I am not a “man” nor I ever want to be one.