Which Is More Gruesome:
A Jealous Girl On Cocaine or A Man Mutilated In A Car Crash?
I saw a maniacal episode last night when my friend and I ran into his ex-girlfriend who was high on cocaine. She was so pretty and slim, she was so crazy and energetic, she was so jealous and insane. I was walking with my friend and she just jumped out at us, ranting for about 15 minutes a really funny and interesting (I can only imagine made up on the spot) monologue about how she recognized him, as he was a great and famous performer. It was the kind of thing that I would love to have the guts to do to an ex-boyfriend of mine I spotted on the street at midnight walking with a scantly clad pretty girl I didn't know. She didn't even think about it, she ran out and jumped in front of him, and all he could do was stand there and take it, and all I could do was laugh because as preposterous as it was, it was hilarious and really quite brilliant.
Something that interests me about it very much is that I felt it was inspired by me, which tickles me, though she was acting purely on animalistic jealousy and vibes, because he is a friend of mine and that is all - she had no idea that I am engaged to someone. However, she just went off intensely on something she was simply feeling. I can't imagine what she is like not on cocaine, but I am sure she is just as brilliant. I could see what he liked about her, and also why they broke up in the few minutes the whole thing took place. I got a full sense of the spectrum of good to bad and saw secrets of their relationship unfolding in front of me in a very brazen way that made me feel a little bit insecure and perhaps like I was seeing something I shouldn't have been. It made me think of this -
Last summer, I saw a man who had gotten hit by a car and the insides of his head were scattered around the street. It was brutally gruesome and troubled me for weeks. I immediately started the process of trying to block it from my memory, but how do you block something like that out? It gave me a feeling I haven't experienced since the first time I stumbled onto a pile of my father's Playboy magazines. I felt like I was seeing something that I shouldn't have been seeing - something so intimate and personal - something I didn't know that you could see - someone's insides, lying there on the street for everyone to peruse.
That is how I felt when I saw the girl - like she had left her insides on the street for everyone to see, and it was as troubling and as fascinating to me as it was seeing bloody, scattered brains.