(Update, morning 7/01/05. Alternative Post Title One: Maybe you can make sense of this crap? Alternative Post Title Two: Why I don't breath The Gold anymore. I am publishing this post just for the sake of keeping an accurate record of my doings and such. Reading it over today, it feels like I wrote this as my 22 year old self and copied/pasted across time and space. Athens Self super-imposed and melted with Chicago Self with Hometown Child buried, barely alive, somewhere inside.)
You don't need most of that shit you buy.
I like you without all that stuff in your hair, and plastered on your face, eyes, and shoulders. I like the pigmentation G-D gave you the day you're born. Natural, genetic tans are so beautiful.
Don't dye your hair blonde: Black hair is the essence of beauty and lust. Raven--Ravenous. The closer your eyes are to the color of coal, the more intense the flame in my heart yearnsburns for you.
Or Green. Green and black are my favorite colors. Night and nature. A forest at midnight under a full moon: Heaven. A hand to hold at the side of a campfire, fireplace.
Can you hear me screaming for you in the space of my mind?
I want to do great things with you. Just need a push in the right direction from the right woman. "Behind every great man, there stands a greater woman." Can I kiss your cheek forever? Fall asleep in your hair? With my hand in that crook where your hip starts.
Drink with me until we get silly and nonsensical. Fall into my arms in laughter. Find Screaming Trees sexy. Find me worth showing up late for work. Let's get together and create our own perfect passion. I need a partner.
I react. Someone else supplies the set-up, I drop the cow-eyes and respond weirdly. The audience laughs at the pair. I am Lou...who is my female Abbot? I am tired of standing on this stage alone, sweating in the spotlight. The chairs are empty. The stage lights shine in my eyes, waiting for me to say the lines I've all but forgotten.
I never ignore those I like/lust/love. I ignore those who disgust me or I loathe. (The Blondie Twins).
I scratch four out of seven layers of skin every night. Rip the blue-haired Demons' heads off as they peek out my pores. Fuck those people. Turn Love to hate and it doesn't hurt as much. But I'm tired of Hating. But I'm tired of Hurting.
Will the morning bring clarity to any of this?
Some people seek adventures in the city on the weekends. Others find adventure in their own mind on the weekend. Chill the judgmental shit out! Good for the Goose, is not always good for the Gander. I am you. You are me. You are You. I am I. You. Me. Us.
Time has no meaning. Thursday could really be Monday. It all feels the same. Remember the Sabbath and keep it Holy. All Religions are the same; the same thread strings itself through all Religions. Man fucked up God. I believe in God. Man skewed God to his own advantage. The True God lies within you. Man KNOWS what is right. The priests in power play the game. You should be able to love who you love. Marry when and who you want to marry. Wear shorts if you want. Man to woman, Man to man, Woman to woman: does it really matter? Love and Loyalty and Commitment is all that matters. No one expires. That's one of the cruelest things I've ever heard from a church. Keep your name, I'll not brand you.
I prattle on about things unknown to me. Tonight, I'm just vomiting on the page. Booting out a bunch of crap I seem to have ingested over the past year. Bing and Purge, baby. I apologize for the mess. Let me get that Bar Rag.