I want to be in love w/ her but not. I mean she’s v. beautiful especially when exclaims surprise or shock which is why I’m constantly jumping out at her but I can’t bring myself to love her. I don’t know why. Maybe because she’s the first nonrelated/nonmedical person to see me naked and vulnerable or maybe because she often seems so genuinely pleased simply to be with me- something inside me irritated at the idea that I have the capacity to make someone else happy just by existing when my existence has never done anything for me.
Yesterday she told me to call her Pauline.
– I fake a new name depending on what country I’m in, she said.
– So what are you telling me, Astrid isn’t your real name?
– It’s real if you call me & I answer to it.
– What’s your name?
– Pauline.
– No, that’s your French name. What’s your original name?
– There are no original names. They’ve all been used before.
I gritted my teeth & thought what am I doing with this nutcase? She talks too much & her crying frustrates then bores me & every day I grow more & more convinced she’s spent some time in a mental hospital & if not she should really think about it.
Blahblahblah
Tried closing myself off to her but it doesn’t do any good. Astrid or Pauline or whatever her name is has sneakily gone about understanding me by finding passages I’ve underlined in books. The other day she found this one in Lermontov: “I was gloomy- other children were merry and talkative. I felt myself superior to them- but was considered inferior: I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world- none understood me: and I learned to hate.” This one struck her especially as it was underlined circled highlighted & annotated with the words My childhood! Must be more careful in leaving soul-glimpses lying around like that.
Going to have to end this thing tho don’t know how when it’s my indifference that’s probably made her fall deeper in love with me- if I wanted to stay she’d probably throw me out on my ear but since she can tell I want to leave she doesn’t. She knows pleasure of pushing someone out the door is weakened considerably when w/ slightest nudge they break into a run.
An Ugly Day
Eddie’s back. Standing on Rue de Rivoli wondering if I stole just one hot roasted chestnut would the vendor bother chasing me for it when I had the weird sensation that I was being talked to in a language not of words but of energy and vibrations. Turned to see his wry Asian face peering at me- we stared at each other, neither moving. After looonng time he waved meekly & came through crowd to shake hand resting in my pocket. He had to pull it out. We chatted amiably & I was surprised to find how pleased I was to see a familiar face. Familiarity is important in a face. Don’t like Eddie’s face tho it’s clean & sparkling like a bathroom tile in a ritzy hotel. Don’t know how we found each other again- when I say goodbye to someone I expect it to stick. We walked in cold air & wintry light & Eddie told me he’s working down by the docks & asked me if I have a job & what have I been doing without one? I told him I’d found a woman because that’s the only external thing that has happened to me- some internal things have happened but they’re not his business & besides they’re incommunicable.
– What does she look like? he asked.
I’m not good at describing people & wind up sounding like an eyewitness in a police interview. She’s 5'7'' brown hair Caucasian…
Eddie said he’d like to meet her, trying again to worm his way into my life. I sense he is trouble, he’s too nice too genial too helpful too friendly. Trouble. He wants something. Don’t know why but I invited him to dinner then thought Now I’ll never get rid of him.
– Get rid of who? Eddie asked & as streetlamps came on I realized that somewhere along the way I’d developed habit of thinking out loud.
Possibly a Weekday
Changing my opinion of Eddie. Tho he’s constantly chilling me w/ his suspicious pursuit of friendship I like his contradictions- he’s a man at the peak of fitness who refuses to walk anywhere & he hates all tourists especially when they obstruct his view of the Eiffel Tower & while his clothes are always immaculately washed or dry-cleaned the man just doesn’t brush his teeth. What I like about him most tho is that he seems genuinely interested in everything about me & always seeks my thoughts & opinions & laughs at my jokes & every now & then actually calls me a genius. Who wouldn’t like a fellow like that?
A strange threesome- Eddie & Astrid & me. At first when we ate dinner together you could see them freeze when I went to do something & it made me laugh to myself to see two grown people loath to be left in the same room. But soon quasi-friendship developed based on laughing together at my clumsiness & forgetfulness & lax attitude toward hygiene- amusement at my faults is common ground on which they both stand.
Sometimes three of us walk by the Seine. Buy cheap wine & bread & cheese & we talk about everything but I’m always impatient w/ other people’s opinions because I’m sure they’re just repeating something they heard somewhere or else regurgitating ideas fed to them in childhood. Look, everyone’s entitled to their own opinion & I’d never shut anyone down who was expressing one but can you be sure it’s really theirs? I’m not.
Catastrophe!
Tonight Astrid Eddie & me went to do laundry & to pass the time we tried to guess the origins of each other’s stains. Astrid thought every wine stain was blood & every coffee stain a splattering of tuberculosis. It was cold out & the window of the laundromat was all fogged up & we couldn’t see outside & Eddie was bent in front of the dryer lifting his clothes to his nose & sniffing each item with pleasure before folding it in a meticulous fashion as if preparing to send his underpants off to war.
– Hey, what the fuck? Eddie suddenly shouted as he sniffed his clothes his face contorting with each enormous whiff. There must have been something in the machine! These smell of shit!
He waved his garments under Astrid’s nose.
– I don’t smell anything.
– How can you not smell anything? Maybe you don’t smell what I smell but you must smell something.
– I don’t smell anything bad.
– Martin. You don’t smell shit?
I reluctantly took a sniff.
– It smells fine.
– Shit smells fine?
Eddie put his head in the clothes dryer sniffing. I was laughing & Astrid was laughing & it was a good moment. Then Astrid said I’m pregnant & Eddie hit his head on the inside of the dryer.
A baby! A fucking baby! A defecating pea-brained unformed biped! A horrible toothless homunculus! An incarnation of ego! A demanding serpent of need! A bald whining primate!
My life is over.
Help!
The topic of the moment: abortion. I am a passionate advocate. I hear myself in conversations w/ Astrid extolling virtues of abortion as if it were a new time-saving technology we can’t afford to live without. Like everything else her responses alternate between vague & fuzzy & downright mysterious. She says an abortion would be probably pointless- whatever that means.
Sex: the match that sets off human firework. In our loveless palace we’ve built a child. Suddenly being almost broke filled w/ new & daunting meaning compounded by the terrible discovery that I have not the heart/cunning/spine/amorality necessary to simply slip out of the country without a word and never return. To my horror principles have wormed their way into fabric of my being. I can’t recall a single instance of my parents showing strong moral fiber, but still it’s there inside me & I know I can’t leave Astrid. I’m stuck. Hopelessly stuck!