Shortbus

I just watched the John Cameron Mitchell movie "Shortbus." Jason burned it for me. I didn't know anything about it prior to watching (except what Jason implied, which is that it was sexual).

I can't remember the last time a movie made me cry that much. Maybe "Dancer In The Dark"? But that was five or so years ago. (Plus that movie is simply artfully aesthetic'd meldrama.) Anyway it was a great movie, with a somewhat weak climax/denouement, but still pretty wonderful. Here are some things that made me cry:

James is a sad beautiful character. I identify with his inability to be permeated by love, his tender guilt, his wish to cease being, his care for an SO who loves him deeply and whose love he can never receive. I identified really, really strongly with the stalker guy-- I'm not a voyeur or even a stalker, but he is perenially outside looking in (self-imposed?), pathetic, possibly loathsome, wishing really hard at love. Watching him made me sob like a retarded faggot. (Why did I need to put that in there? "Look ego, I'm still an offensive badass") I didn't really identify with the main character of Sofia, as I'm not new agey, Asian, or anorgasmic, but I did identify with her intense yearning watching the Beautiful Couple; in that pedestrian way of "That's so beautiful, why can't I have/experience/be that"; but watching them fuck almost broke the fourth wall, because I was pissed off that, yet again, the pinnacle is Beauty. Also the orgasm thing-- No one else has ever given me an orgasm. This is almost totally because of me, though; I'm not willing to have someone waste their time experimenting on me. I can't bear to be under pressure or scrutiny (how sad that I see me-focused sex in that way).

The first moment that made me well up was pretty telling-- I can't even remember which character it was, but two people were kissing. The kiss broke momentarily, and the one person watched the other person's face, which was in a state of total relenting desire, of vulnerability. This is what truly terrifies me. I can never be truly vulnerable in front of anyone. I have a lot of leeway-- I don't mind learning new things, being first perceived as stupid, making an ass of myself being ham-handed or clumsy; because in those circumstances I still have a core Me to come back to, and that's always protected. But that fear of rejection and ridicule, so intense that it's almost a phobia, never permits me to open myself to love. I can give love, and I can receive most kinds of love, but I have never made myself love-vulnerable to a person. I've come close-- obv. Alex, and actually Michael too, in a malformed kind of way. At least Alex is a fundamentally good person and we were both stuck in shitty situations (Venn diagram'd).

I'm pretty happy with seeing Tushar. His lack of any sort of romantic/sexual pressure, and esPECially the fact that he accepts me without dithering about femininity, combined with the fact that he actually does like me, is exactly what I need. There is a chance that he could be the person to change my heart about how men can't feel love-- To have someone explicitly say they like your intellectual curiosity, without it being forced or overly emotional, is one of the most genuinely flattering things I can imagine-- though if it had been said flatteringly I would have cringed and crept away. Maybe sexually we're not a WOWEE 100% MATCH DINGDING (the quick-answer in my head has always been "I need some miraculously talented omniscient Ubermensch to show me the ways, make me come, and leave"), but I like having sex with him, I like blowing him, I really like laying around together joking and touching. He almost made me cry a few times (not that he knew this) when he touched/held me like I have been craving for over a decade. Maybe he'll slowly get sick of my "plz srsly don't worry about making me cum lol" schtick. Not too quickly though or I'll feel PRESHAH. Good lord I feel so sorry for every human who gets ensnared in my awful labyrinth of a mind.