sitting here, brooklyn. the sun is shining so fucking strong and the skies are clearer and less muddy than usual. I have keys to go to get coffee and come back. I think I might do that in a bit. Dreams slippin past my conscious memory again. They are so strange lately. Super high fi high fantasy configurations and equations that make so much sense until I try to repeat them or reorganize them as ideas in my head.
My bitterness or lackthereof will continue to escalate until I exist not beyond a small flicker of light that grows and lights up the furthest corners of reality. I am happy, in other words. Lost my job. Apparently I don't clean ashtrays and wash glasses fast enough for their sweet yuppy ass little establishment. For those of you who know me and my skills, this is complete crap but still amusing that such an excuse would be pulled from the asses of the conservative 'we don't want the tattooed neighborhood girl who goes out in public often with tattoo revealing clothing and knows more people than we thought'. SO amusing. I asked one of the owners just to see what he ...
My summer has been scooting by at an unnatural pace. people people people. situations situations situations. It's hard for me to really organize what is going on lately in my brain, the way my mind shelves priorities, people, things, into the back corners of nothingness, to be forgotten until I decided to consciously remember them.
Last year was a blur, spun by me and I cannot say anything really remarkable about last year that extended beyond september 11. Before then was so blurry, the faces unforgiven, the lies and bullshit cutting deep. I sent a "friend" a message today, something he most likely won't read, most likely won't get. The thing that kept running through my head repeatedly was this past foggy mantra of mine about people. People are the most temporary things about one's life. They come and they go with the frequency that sun rises and sets. I refuse to let myself get that close to anyone. Not for fear of change or leaving, but leaving in its ultimate meaning. I have realized this over the past few months. That my scars that men seem to find issue in, that my understanding that people don't want to deal with ...
So I was wondering. And we all have the same eternal question burning in our minds...What about the stache, cater lip, hairy upper, what the fuck ever. It freaks me out. Lots of motherfuckers around here seem to think it's cool. I just don't. It's like a mullet for the lazy. More after my little nap...
