"Some People Call it a One Night Stand But We Can Call it Paradise"

I've been talking to CH for a few days. She has been staying with me. BS arrived home slightly drunk as usual on Monday night. I like that he is usually slightly to quite drunk, although sometimes it worries me. It seems luxuriant and decadant to me, the irregular heavy drinker with Emotional Issues. Not that BS doesn't have emotional issues, just that often he seems measured, contained and (held) controlled. I use the word held because I have been thinking about it over the past couple of days. EKS talks about it. I am rereading A Dialogue on Love, and the resonances (that word is such wank) are powerfully personal and therapeutic for me. She is an American academic in queer theory/gay and lesbian studies/literary/critical theory. I read Epistemology of the Closet many years ago at uni. One of the things she talks about is the fact that because of her work is gay/queer oriented, people assume that she is gay. She is beautifully contradictory, complex and complicating, soft and tough. She had breast cancer a while ago. More about 'heldness' later.

So these talks with CH have been gentle and kindly. She doesn't laugh as much as I do, or feel humour in the way that I do. Because I feel it very deeply, as one of the fundamental principles of my life, and one of the most startling peaks of my personality. Perhaps I am proud of the fact that I find most things funny on some level. Perhaps the only way I can manage sadless, grief, loss, anger and happiness and wellness is through humour. At uni I wrote an essay about corporeal humour: the abject body and the drive towards comedy/humour. I was so fucking into Bataille back then I nearly started eating dead things to prove a point. Not really. Is it a case of consume or be consumed? And how do people feel about humour happening without their consent?

It is an intense process this 'getting to know' someone in the way that I do it. CH and I have spent entire afternoons and evenings talking talking talking up until we are both delirious at 3.00am. I need to know, or at least attempt to know and understand. It is an insanely intense drive. We have talked about so many things, and I think now we have a different sense of each other.

There are awful things happening between my parents at the moment. Dad has gone to pick up a 'divorce pack', which sounds like a rather neat means of dealing with the enormous raw and stultifying problem. My problem is that I can't disconnect myself. I talk to AC about it because he is so rational and sensitive, and he makes me feel like what I feel is acceptable and normal. But still, I can't deny my father this level of support and intimacy. I think about the relationship he had with his father, and how close they were as friends, and how much they liked each other, and I think perhaps this is just part of being adult. Perhaps as a friend I need to divorce this from my own feelings about my mother and just help and support my father?

By the way, the title is one of the funniest lines I have heard in a song. It is a song I really love - Save A Prayer - Duran Duran.