i've been reflecting a lot on tragic secret love. having become the last of the famous international playboys, in so far as i've had undesired awkward and embarassing sexual experiences lately with a variety of creepy people in public places, i can now say with certainty the answer to the ageold question am i gay or straight: neither, i'm a morrissexual. in essence it means that i like to tragically yearn after people. in essence, in terms of my sexual orientation, i am most attracted to 'depression.' in all honesty i could have put the moves on my latest tragic secret love, but that would just be crude. why would you want to make out with someone you're tragically secretly in love with? or rather how could you do that? it would be like masturbating with a cross, which isn't just sacrilegious but more importantly would scratch and probably leave marks, just like when you masturbate with ''hoover lube'' (i.e., cheap shampoo or bacon drippings). that terri dude made out with me in a dark alleyway, and it was okay i guess, but i had to despise the man. obviously he didn't really like me if he was willing to touch me. am i the only person left in this crazy world that believes if you're really attracted to someone, you would just flirt with them for months and months on end and constantly hum belle and sebastian to yourself? is everyone so interested in sex that that's what they think of primarily when they fall in love with someone? the cheesy line that terri said 'oh, you're so beautiful' strikes me as the most disturbing thing i've ever heard, even more disturbing than that techno song about slipping a girl on ecstasy and raping her all night (mmm, i just realized how ironic it is for me to be saying that's disturbing). in essence i guess it means 'uh, i'd like to make out with you because i'm physically attracted to you. i mean, we have nothing in common and can bearly hold a very boring polite conversation, but let's do it because i'm horny and you're not entirely repulsive etc.' maybe that's what makes tragic secret love so tragic, not the tragic longing, but the tragic fact that you'll never fall in love with another person that's as hopelessly romantic as you are, who's actually felt deeply about someone enough to tragically pine after them. i happened upon one such person here, my 27 year old slovenian friend vlatka. i ran into her in a bar and i walked her home, and she lamented to me 'i've been in love with one of my friends for months but i could never dare to tell him. have you ever loved someone that much?' and she made me cry, and then i made her cry. so it's not just me that's crazy. but without the illusive mirage of tragic secret love, that consists in believing that somehow this love will be reciprocated, what can you do, the world would become unbearable and love would become nothing more than making out with annoying people in alleyways. and like a good unamuno character you would have to commit suicide as the only rational resolution. but despite the depressive tone of this, i'm over my latest tragic secret love. which is even more disturbing than being in TSL. typically these things have to be resolved dramatically, ordinarily with trips to europe, and usually they last months, but the timeline of this tsl was only a month to the day. and this time around all it took was a half liter of brandy and a phonecall from rebekah. despite my preachiness am i losing faith in tsl? i wish the fortuneteller i went to yesterday had been better, it should have been his duty to cast some light upon these matters, but as my serbian colleagues say he wasn't worth half a pussy full of water.