something different.
written: 6:08 p.m. on Monday, Sept. 27, 2004
One: Pre-adolescence.
Innocent worshipping of too-good-to-be-true American pop stars, the conventional blond-haired, blue-eyed, boy-next-door dreamboat.
Before that: A boy eternally submerged in the swimming pool, one whose precise features are lost in the blur of fading memories, compounded further by the beginnings of a life-long myopia that prevented the face from being seen with clarity.
In shrot: a hint at the eventual manifestation of The Girls' School Syndrome, one which would have rather definitive repercussions later on.
Two: Teenage Angst.
Rock star worship. He was the one with the strange, emancipated beauty, the raw honesty that stabbed straight in the heart. The voice, the eyes, the delicate frame, the melodies, the cacophony, the words -- the myth of the Tortured Artist that formed the base of The Ideal Person: poetry that depended on angst, long hair that has been left unwashed for days, T-shirts that make a defiant statement, electric Gibson/Paul Reed Smiths that make more defiant statements. More imporantly: pale skin that suggests fragility, so that he came across as vulnerable, in need of a saviour. She would always be that saviour.
Three: Teenagst Angst -- The Immediate Aftermath
Hollywood actor worship. He was the one with the pure liquid eyes, the turquoise sea that females drowned in. The goodness of the heart, liberal world views, and that deft ability to shed tears pure as crystals.
Also known as: The beginning of the Older Man Curiosity.
Four: Teenage Angst -- The Return
Dead Hollywood actor worship. He was the one who gave expression to the disaffected, the unheard, the voiceless, the spiritually-starved. The eternal rebel, the eternal matinee idol. But he was more than that: he was a friend, the warmth of a gentle fire in the middle of the darkest winter on Earth, the true Iconoclast that never died. This is true Idol Worship, and he is God. No one else will ever come close.
Five: The Girls' School Syndrome -- Manifestation
Biggest Crush Ever. He was the one with the intense, smothering eyes, the unnerving and breathy, exciting mystery that hinted at something more. The initial distance enhanced and illuminated the initial mystery, and the eventual contact shattered the initial myth. Pretty Boy was exactly that; nothing more. Pretty Boy was the first. He saw, he touched, he tasted, he came, he conquered. His eyes were a constant picture of incomprehension when words written under the illusion of love were read out to him, his face the embodiment of all the thwarted longings, frustrated desires accumulated over the years like an insurmountable budget deficit. His touch induced feral, animalistic urges, and the legs parted because they thought it was Love. Grandiose and pathetic, imbecilic and a waste. But he will always be credited with being unwilling to let go.
Six: The Beginnings of Cynicism.
A: The one who slightly resembled River Phoenix.
An aberration from the past: a Chinese who can only be described as 'cute'. The boyish charm, the boyish smile, the boyishly flopply hair: do not quite garner the connotations of the word 'gorgeous', let alone 'beautiful'. Still: a worthy friend when it was all over.
B: The one who could potentially fulfill manga dreams.
The primary reason: Number 14. The one thing that mattered. He was but a few things: the first rejection, the first one to be taller, the one with the impressive three-pointers. But mostly, he was a blank, the dragon that never quite took flight.
C: The one that lasted for two weeks.
He was skinny, shot beautiful three-pointers, had eyes that seemed to stick to her like glue. Nothing else comes to mind to say about him.
D: The one that continues to make no sense.
The plus points: He was the silent, mysterious new kid in an A-bander English class, hence giving the illusion that someone real who is relatively good-looking with good English (the interest in the Tortured Poet, or simply A Poet, was never fulfilled) has finally been found. Later on, it was revealed that he was errorneously placed in the A-bander English class. His silence suggested (wrongly) introspection, depth, and mystery. He had the potential to be mind-blowing. And physically, he was tall, the height difference certainly acceptable. The Chinese poetry seemed enough, the shyness almost like sugar, so that the sad grammar was easily overlooked. But: nothing ever happened. To avoid being stuck in something that resembled thirty years of married life, she gave him the boot. And he will always be credited with the childishness to blame his profound suffering on her, his pretentious and pompous stupidity in believing that she should reciprocate exactly the amount that he had needlessly, thoughtlessly and blindly given. His words are preposterous now.
Seven: Present -- The Prolongation of The Older Man Curiosity.
He is the culmination and combination of all variegated types preferred throughout.
Physically: The height. The paleness of the skin; no longer suggesting vulnerability, but it remains attractive all the same. The face. Not conventionally handsome, but there's something in it that hints at a differentiated kind of bald beauty.
Others: The effortless grace, the sophistication. Finally, the realisation of the Eloquent Poet/Writer interest. The prose is polished, the writing crisp and sharp. More importantly: it induces shortness of breath, an unpleasant but subcutaneously thrilling inferiority complex (something definitely novel), a rare sense of awe.
The largest pull-factor: He is wholly unattainable. That, in itself, is enough to embellish his appeal. It also provides ample room for a rather self-important attempt at injecting tragedy into life, so that it becomes less trivial, more serious. She's used the words 'in love' so flippantly that they've ceased to hold real meaning, but whether or not she means them is beside the point. The point, however, is: He is the most amazing person she has ever met. Period.
Final Assessment: Life is short. Play it out.
*Similarity to Julian Barnes's England, England fully intended.
before sunrise // before sunset
Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010