Sample Platter - Journal Entry - Mark Cohen (Rent)
Goodbye, Februrary, you will not be missed. Not that you were an entirely bad month, just a month that I'm not sorry to see go. ...I'm not really sorry to see any month go, anymore, though, because they're all starting to blend together anymore. March should be the start of the year, I think. January has things like my birthday and February's for the romantic. I'm not pathetic, I choose not to participate in either holiday. Especially the latter of the two, since it's the only one that I can help celebrating. This year, I even showed my maturity by not letting anyone suck me into another dating trap. I had a nice, quite dinner of canned beans and crunchy cornbread with my hand, thank you very much. If I wanted a girlfriend companion someone to fuck girlfriend, I'd have gotten one already. I don't need your charity, and I certainly don't need a blind date with any of your friends, no matter how nice you think they seem. Just trust me, I'm doing those girls all a favor. (Aren't you proud of yourself, Maureen? My incompetence makes it look like you ruined me for all other women.)

I don't really get the big deal about Valentine's Day, either. It's just another excuse for sexless couples to get laid. God knows that none of the couples I know need to worry about that. Except maybe my parents. Oh, ew. Oh, God. Oh, ew. I'm scarred for life. Oh, Jesus. If I wasn't blind already, I'd be even blinder now. (Note to self: if Mom calls, don't answer.) Before I destroyed the last remenants of sexual energy that existed within my being just then, my point was that if I wanted to be having sex right now, I would be. Don't doubt my ability to get a piece of ass. ...Just...doubt my ability to find a piece of ass that's not a lesbian or spoken for. I'm not too worried, though. At least, not yet. I might worry a little more if Mom calls and breathes down my neck about not showing up at Cindy and Charlie's for my date night. ...Boy, I hope they didn't tell her I canceled on them. Cindy's lips get looser than...well...her, in high school, every day, it seems. I'm wondering if she's turning into Mom. I hear that happens, sometimes. Women becoming their mothers. Wow. If Cindy ever starts knitting me sweaters, I'll stab her with one of the needles. If it were Thanksgiving I would not ignore it in favor of giving thanks that there's nothing like that to happen to guys. ...Thanksgiving...holidays...oh, right. There I was, Valentine's.

Short and sweet: if I wanted sex, I could get it. I just happen to be in a very serious relationship with my hand right now, and I don't want to do anything to ruin what we have together.

[Private]
So, um. By implying that spending Valentine's day with a can of beans was no sweat, I think I meant that if I ever have to do that again (didn't I say this last year?), I'll kill myself next fourteenth of February. Did everyone else go out? I think everyone else went out. Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't want to put up with Mimi and Roger here on a holiday reserved for romance and fucking. But it was difficult watching the two of them prance off while I stayed home to see how long it'd take to chip off a block of cornbread with a plastic knife. (The knife broke, I had to use a screwdriver.) Also difficult, when I called Cindy to tell her there was no way in Hell that I'd be making a dinner appearance, she told me it was okay, because they hadn't really been expecting me this year, in the first place. It's certainly one thing to not want to go to an event like that, but to not be asked...well, it's not the most uplifting thing. I didn't get any sort of "You know, I have this friend..." speeches from anyone, this year. Not even Mimi, which is weird, because she probably knows a gazillion people who'd want to make my night on the first date.

Do I even know how to have sex, anymore? I get worried about that, sometimes. More worrying, the only girl person I've ever loved is a slutty lesbian. One who puts even my sister to shame. I guess being one for one isn't really a great statistic, but do I make girls want to do other girls? I think I'm too afraid to find out.

...Does it ever happen to you (you, yeah, I'm talking to myself here, geez) that...when you start thinking about things, your mind takes you to this completely ridiculous place, then just...drops you off there, and doesn't come back until you've thought all you can about it? Mine does that. A lot. Valentine's Day made me start thinking about some things that Angel used to say to me. And yes, I'm going to credit these things soley to Angel because I don't think I want to think that Maureen was the person to try to point them out to me. Even if they are not-true things, I don't want to think that these are the things my only girlfriend's ever thought about me. I remember the night that I first met Angel, she thought that Roger and I were a couple. I never told anyone that. I probably never will, either. God, it embarrassed the hell out of me. But not enough that I never thought about it again. Mostly, I try to think that was just because Maureen had said something in a similar vein, only a month before. My mind doing that wander-y thing happened a lot, and as much as I didn't want to think anything of it, I'd mention as much to Angel, sometimes. She always thought there was something there. Always. When she was in the hospital, there was one night where it was sort of just me and her (Collins was grabbing something from the cafeteria, I think), and I was about to leave, so I got up to kiss her goodbye and she stopped me and said that she couldn't be the first boy I ever kissed because she wanted that to be Roger. She said she'd rather be the last woman I kissed, instead. ...And I think she was.

Sometimes, when my mind's stuck in that ridiculous place, I wonder if it's what I wanted...want, too.

But then I have to start laughing at myself because my libido's shriveled up so much that the shriveling has to spread to other parts of my body, and my head seemed like a nice place to start. The laughing also helps to remind me not to take the ridiculous parts of my brain seriously.
[/Private]

Someone needs to go buy eggs and batteries. Oh, and apologies to Mimi and Roger, if you guys have been looking for that little jar of chocolate body paint. I thought it was just chocolate sauce, but once I realized what it was and where that brush had probably been, I boiled some water just so I could pour it all over my tongue.