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at the moment.. the people i usually find less than screamworthy seem amazingly fantastic. they're all bloated with amazingly fantastic little ideas, they're all made of plastic and melting together in one huge swirly-colourful puddle, a moaning puddle. and You are the moaning puddle. and that dab of cobalt blue blending with the mayor's nicotine green. your problems were the biggest, because you were you; and i think you're mad now because someone else is managing to moan louder than you.
i'd like to be too young for things, for everything.
i've never had a problem stepping in peoples' eyes, except once, at a job interview for a stationary supplies store. the manager was fat, his default expression a smile that for the first few seconds you were sure was real, and smiled back, until you realised it wasn't a smile at all and you felt rather silly. my eyes slid away in a manner that could be seen as anything good, reminding you of the crafty villain in a grimm's fairy taile. i'm sure that's the so(u)le reason i didn't get the job.
every night we've been feeling like going outside in our nightgown and stocking feet and sunglasses, when the stop lights are off and apathetically blinking letting people think for themselves, we want to lie on the footpath or the patch of grass between this cage and the next and stare up, wait for something to happen. perhaps we only want to because we know we can't. we don't even have a nightgown or sunglasses, we'd just have to settle for the stockings, i suppose. secretly we love being merely mediocre, not doing such things as, and owning such things as nightgowns and sunglasses.
a while ago i cut my hair again, it's still longer in the back because it's harder to cut there. don't think you've a right to breathe, or smell bad, just because you're here. the only thing you can do because you've a right to is to be naive to a point where it's dangerous. NOTHING IS OPTIONAL.
be naive to a point where it's dangerous.
you'd like it to be freezing, and to lie awake in the dark with no covers on, because you don't deserve covers. but it has to be someone else to pull the covers off, you can't just kick them off yourself because it wouldn't be the same. it'd just be stupid.
sometimes fasting is too easy. punishing yourself to punish others never seems to work but people do it all the time anyway. it's why i respect them so much.
you should love your parents. love them dammit. you should love your wife, your mistress, and perhaps even your children. your neighbours. loving your neighbours is the most important of all. if you love them i guess you don't even have to love your wife.
you wouldn't really want to be perfect. you'd find yourself pure(,) white and hairless, with no thought or concept of anything at all.
i'm the person with bells on the curls of my shoes, who collects forgotten memories in hollow glass balls and plants them in other peoples' gardens until they grow into weeds.
the taste of chlorine. comfortably aloof, surprisingly blood-free.
i'd like to be too young for things, for everything.
i've never had a problem stepping in peoples' eyes, except once, at a job interview for a stationary supplies store. the manager was fat, his default expression a smile that for the first few seconds you were sure was real, and smiled back, until you realised it wasn't a smile at all and you felt rather silly. my eyes slid away in a manner that could be seen as anything good, reminding you of the crafty villain in a grimm's fairy taile. i'm sure that's the so(u)le reason i didn't get the job.
every night we've been feeling like going outside in our nightgown and stocking feet and sunglasses, when the stop lights are off and apathetically blinking letting people think for themselves, we want to lie on the footpath or the patch of grass between this cage and the next and stare up, wait for something to happen. perhaps we only want to because we know we can't. we don't even have a nightgown or sunglasses, we'd just have to settle for the stockings, i suppose. secretly we love being merely mediocre, not doing such things as, and owning such things as nightgowns and sunglasses.
a while ago i cut my hair again, it's still longer in the back because it's harder to cut there. don't think you've a right to breathe, or smell bad, just because you're here. the only thing you can do because you've a right to is to be naive to a point where it's dangerous. NOTHING IS OPTIONAL.
be naive to a point where it's dangerous.
you'd like it to be freezing, and to lie awake in the dark with no covers on, because you don't deserve covers. but it has to be someone else to pull the covers off, you can't just kick them off yourself because it wouldn't be the same. it'd just be stupid.
sometimes fasting is too easy. punishing yourself to punish others never seems to work but people do it all the time anyway. it's why i respect them so much.
you should love your parents. love them dammit. you should love your wife, your mistress, and perhaps even your children. your neighbours. loving your neighbours is the most important of all. if you love them i guess you don't even have to love your wife.
you wouldn't really want to be perfect. you'd find yourself pure(,) white and hairless, with no thought or concept of anything at all.
i'm the person with bells on the curls of my shoes, who collects forgotten memories in hollow glass balls and plants them in other peoples' gardens until they grow into weeds.
the taste of chlorine. comfortably aloof, surprisingly blood-free.
