Allow me to be diaristic. If for only but a moment.
I don't regret the direction. I could never take her candor for granted. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do.
66 Hail Marys, thats what I'm thinking. I got to make three different posters and print 22 copies of each. This month is when I'm gonna paint the town yellow.
And I'll need to adopt a persona of arrogance, something that can incense my network towards action.
You!
I know exactly what possesses somebody like you to linger. So I'll be generous, in the way only a charismatic tyrant could be: I'm gonna frustrate you, specifically. And unfortunately for you, I've a feeling it'll entice you.
You're so arrogant, he said. He was right!
What compels me to incite distaste in you is a recognition of your withdrawal. The worst thing about poking the bear is knowing they're bound to have a better season than the Lions. And yeah, it doesn't sit right with me, so I'm gonna do something about it.
Me and my aviators are gonna try to find Professor Khan today. I've got a proposition for him.
I'm going all in on my music this year. I'm putting forth a vain kind of providence on myself, I'm watching over my record as one capable of transgression. And of course... I want him to be a witness to the result of it, however it goes.
If by June 4th I haven't gotten a commendable motion, then I swear to him: I'll apply to the PhD program. I will. Honest to God, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I will. If I must apply, I will ask for his letter of recommendation. And I'll set aside the theatrics.
Its, um... becoming a real snag on my skirt, is what I'll say. It's starting to piss me off. But anger is actionable.
What bothers me is knowing that... so is joy. So is ecstasy. Both very actionable, too. It's not pushing me as much as I'd like it to.
What is within me now is a feeling of acceptance. I can be a bit mercurial, sometimes. And I think I've a tendency to confront and row more than I'd typically like to admit. In my worst manner, I can act a bit like some of those heroes I rightfully chose to discard from my tiles, you know. I've regrettably a temperament not unlike some of those guys, like Mister Kilmister. I pray to God I never get like that.
I'm an educated, protestant Black American, I've got nothing to worry about. As we all know, those sorts of people never get in trouble and get to live happy lives.
Give me fucking break. If one of you guys can't take this guy out I'll have to take one for the team. Jesus, you really don't make it easy.
I'm investing my cortisol in the promises of counter-cultural violence. I'm counting on it. Unlucky for the vampires, I'm looking to denature the blood before it can dry.
Can I tell you something? It's about that lovely lady I won't shut up about. Was I naive in assessing the meaning of the Unicorn? I trust you all are more keen on this sort of thing, I guess. Why would I assume... that's a good question.
But maybe I'm right. I guess it would be an appointment, huh? Let me not have *too* much fun, right?
What does she think? The only thing I'm certain about is that I'm mad about this girl. I can't get over her.
I don't have to save myself for Persephone, let's not be puritanical, but... part of me loathes my efforts to try something healthier than what I've been doing. I keep believing that I should stop my aimless pining, that I shouldn't stake my drive in maximizing my chances to be graced by her company. I should look to just socialize in my local area to find someone else, you know. I'm on these apps, I'm thinking, maybe I'm just under the influence of some kind of parasocial perversion. If I let myself go a little bit, maybe I'll get over her.
But I know myself, right? I couldn't get over Parker when I was with Ghislaine. I couldn't get over Warhol when she was with Parker, isn't that a treat? And I'm still not fully over Parker. It was always thus that I wished to be born a girl, but really thinking about it... he made it worse. Because sometimes, I almost feel as if I wish I could have been born a girl, just so maybe he would have looked my way.
I don't think he likes Black girls anyways, though. He's too skinny, he'd never survive.
I still dream of reconnecting with Maid Marian (new epithet, girl I knew since first grade). Florence Welch put forth something so dreadful into the world when she said... "If I've ever had a crush on someone, I probably still do."
It's the most egregious thing that I could never shake. I will probably never get over Persephone. A girl I only saw once in real life, ever. Hilarious.
Some people are just that ethereal. Isn't that the worst?
No comments:
Post a Comment