It's amazing how 2 words and a conjunction can take me on a spin that's totally out of order, self-inflicted, unwarranted, unfair. All it did do is throw up a few things that stand as they are in spite of anything, be it smart, talented, and all those nice positivie ego-boosting things. I don't seem to want anything bad enough. And that's what I want badly. To not want. To flit through life, get zapped by what it has to offer and move on. And there's a very convoluted connection to all this in the name of work, save, get real. In a weird ass way that I can't explain I'm happy. What I don't like about being happy is that there are so many kinds. And this one is placid. I hate placid! Duality would be easy. But duality never met. Doesn't get to meet I guess. Btw I don't believe in that. It's theoretical. It's real and therefore I don't believe. Plus, there's no such thing as duality. It would exist only if I were a sunbathing cow on cud. Why is letting go such an issue. I don't know why I cling on to things umm well like fluorescent rubber bands with polka dotted teats hanging off. I don't need a shrink. I need a blockage. I can move. Masochist in me wants to know how much longer. Apparently longer. Breaks don't do me good. Time off is absolute no no. I am running out of time. I wanna hop rides like a hobohemian. Nothing's stopping. I need to buy a ticket. Not unreserved but first class. I just have to. And when it's all done with I'll be bumming around the 'real and sensible' way because somewhere I'm above average and yet want to be safe not cause chances unnerve me but the fragility of losing it all in a wink. Detachment. It's easy. I've almost touched it and scooted back. I want to get there...pronto! I don't know how...ya think tis an entity or some privilege club that approaches you. Am I too lowly not to deserve a reason? Or ya think money can do the trick? Maybe you're going "i can't believe she's so complicated." I'm bad with knots. I just want to know. And weirdly it all boils down to one thing in the lack of detachment. Being loved.
Now, I'll just go chaperone my boredom.
RitzyKracker. I almost called the blog that. But it sounds like some peroxide blonde in a doll dress doing the splits amidst bright bulbs and hoops. Oh and that's how far my French cum Spanish goes...faux pas de la vida. Franish. Franish sounds like an omelette with foie gras and spanish tomatoes. That's pretty much z idea...faux pas...foie gras...fattened with averageness, churned into averageness, oh fie life! Enough methinks with all that pasting and grating, enough of those sporadic giggles and poke at poor geeky, plump, bespectacled, waddling life.
Toodles boredom! Tata! Shoo! Scat!
1 comment:
i wish you weren't in such a hurry all the time. makes me breathless. all in good time. bit by bit.
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