Watching Your Thoughts

I was in a French café. Seated. Eating. A chocolate croissant. A cappuccino. I am staring at this new girl who walks in. Time slows down. I thought the thoughts. But then suddenly I popped out of thinking the thoughts and started watching them instead. you have to love when that happens. I pulled out my notepad and began making a list. This is the closest I came up with the exact order of how they popped in with absolutely no malice or deliberation on my part. As if I am nothing but the observer of this whole other being that lives inside of me thinking all these thoughts and feeling all these feelings. Fascinating.

Within a matter of less than two minutes it went something like this I noticed: “oh that's a pretty girl. Is she pretty? Let me see her face. I wish she would turn around. Great body from behind. I feel a sense of urgency and fear. She's turning around. If she is pretty I will surely feel sad that I cannot have her. how do you know you cannot have her? you don't even know her. well I guess I just assume I cannot have her. well maybe you can have her. she's probably married. Look at her finger. If she is hot and she is married then I will feel relief and the sadness will go away because then I don't have to worry about her wanting to go out with me or not. She's taken. Yes true but I will also feel sad because she is married and all the good girls are already taken. How will I ever find a great girl of my own? oh look she's not that pretty. Good. now I feel better. She's not pretty. So I don't have to worry. but man what if she is not married? Oh that will make me sad because now I will feel sorry for her and worry about her getting married....” that is when I realized that I was watching my thoughts rather than thinking them. or rather, that is when I stopped thinking my thoughts and realized that I was watching them at the same time. again, fascinating. What irony. So lets get this straight according to my insane thinking, if a girl is hot then I feel bad for myself that she probably won't want me, unless of course she does then I immediately don't really like her or want her anymore for some strange reason. If she is married I feel a little bit better  because at least I don't have to worry about her wanting me or not. Can’t fault her for not wanting me if she is married after all. but if she is unattractive, then I feel immediate relief from this nagging sorrow that no hot and eligible girls like me, fucking fascinating. And yet at the same time I immediately start feeling bad for them and hoping that they meet someone fast that will love them and marry them. crazy series of fears, resistances, and projections. A psychotic brain if you ask me.

The whole time I am observing this I am taking notes in the restaurant. The Syrian girl is curiously reading my every word, attempting to discover what I am scribbling about. I am sure she has no idea.

Later that night the Syrian girl seduces me. I am serious. I have no attraction to this girl. Some but not a lot. I have never had Syrian before so I tell myself that I should at least attempt to sleep with her if that is what she is aiming at just to rack up another country. Syria is totally uncharted territory to me. so I jump up and look up Syria on msn Encarta world atlas. Wow there it is in the middle of all of these Muslim countries. I ask her to show me exactly where she lives on the map. So there it is. crazy. what the hell is she doing all the way over here in New York? She tells me that she listens to my cds everyday and her favorite song is superhero girl. That it is her song. She then takes off her clothes and tells me to make love to her.

We make love. And its well another experience lets put it that way. the Muslim women don't have it going on like the American or Italian women. They are very shy. But rack up one for Syria. So now I have had Syria Iran and India in that last month or so and that's a good thing if you are a true psycho such as I am. So I am slowly conquering the middle east so to speak.

She then tells me that I am only the second man that she has ever slept with. Now that gets me a little crazy. and nervous quite honestly. She tells me that she can only sleep with men who have great ideas and who are not ordinary. Well certainly there must be more than one not-ordinary man with great ideas in Syria I tell her. she assures me that I am wrong and that she came all the way to America to sleep with me because I am a special man. O.k. I will not comment.

I start to get dressed and she asks me why. I tell her that after I have sex that I need to write. It is now 3:30 in the morning. I tell her I must go smoke and write because if I do not that I will feel crazy. that my mind is buzzing a million miles an hour from the endorphins going off in my brain. She doesn’t understand. I can tell. I remind her of me scribbling in the restaurant.  I go to the table and pull out a folder and open it to show her a stack of about two hundred or so little scraps of paper with more scribbles on them and explain to her that my hob is to take all these scribbles of mine and type them into my computer. That is my job. That is my life’s work and it is very frustrating for the most part so I must get downstairs and write a little or there is no way that I will be able to sleep. So here I sit hunched over and madly typing away sitting on the stairs of a brownstone in Manhattan in the freezing cold in the middle of the night. I am either onto something with this insane life of mine or just truly crazy. I can still not quite figure that one out.

Today was a banner day indeed for many reasons. Today was the first official day of filming of my new reality show. Well perhaps a reality show combined into a sitcom combined with a one man show. Something like that. not sure yet. but we filmed about an hour or so. Just me being me. and honestly I felt more comfortable in that hour than I have ever felt in my life. If I am a natural at anything it is at being me. it was very easy.