November 13, 2005 7:34 pm

November 13, 2005 7:34 pm
I just saw the movie Jar Head. I liked it. I was proud of myself for going to the movies alone. Of course, I couldn't see a film about something silly or funny- maybe a romantic comedy with Kate Hudson or Cameron Diaz. Ha!- I chose a film about Desert Storm and the Marine Corp. Hot men training to be killing machines. Masculine angst, sweat, comradery, muscles, masturbation, broken hearts, war. Pretty much the story of my life.
Maybe I would feel different if the guys weren't so attractive, esp. the main character Jake Gyllenhaal. I am superficial, you know. But there goes my trait mark feelings of wanting to take care of them. Have them love me forever because of my female softness and wonder (ha!), be their anti-war. Touch those hands that held rifles and killed people. Those calloused, dirty male hands. Thoughts of scouting internet chat room for Marines and volunteering at veterans hospitals.
How pathetic.
I am also jealous because inside of me there is a masculinity that wants crazy violence and fucking shit up. That wants the physical strength- those beautiful muscles and cold eyes. I want the thriving, pulsating heat of testosterone. I want deady determination, intimidation. I want rifles, helmets and gas masks. Really, for real?
Okay....I want group showers and circle jerks.
I want to be stripped down and squeezed so tight it feels like violence but I know it's love.