Tuesday, 27 March 2012

... my lies like glass marbles are highly ornamental

“How much do you dislike yourself?” I wanted to ask him, but he was kissing my neck and that would have been awkward. Instead I silently shot the question at the white and black tiger pillow, poking out from behind his head.

Milk duds.
When I eat a Twix bar, I'm reminded of swim practice
Crunchies remind me of summer camp
Reese’s peanut butter cups, of Allison Carter
Mint Areos, of Frances
Smartfood, of my mom.
--  One time Lisa and I ate a Fruit and Nut bar left behind in the girls change room. I don’t even like Fruit and Nut bars, but because it was a story, it was the best chocolate I’d ever had.
You see, they’re not so much sweets, as they an indulgence into memories.
we all know how unhealthy living in the past is.
(I'm at risk for diabetes)

                        ~                                           ~                                              ~
We had a heated debate, just like back in the days. Only it was different, because these people found philosophy pretentious instead of exciting, and were only looking for the right answer. 
What is the essence...” for a mere half hour, and the rage that arose wasn’t playful.  Where’s your curiosity  I wondered

don't look so glum - isn't the unexamined life one not worth living?


And you call yourselves artists

Sunday, 11 March 2012

At least I still remember my lines from the last time

Ugh.
Ugh.
Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh.
My stomach is a congealed clump of guilt. Butter that melted, but is starting to solidify again. It's coating my throat too.
It's easiest to make the same mistakes again and again, because it's safe. I already know my lines and I already know how the script ends. (with regret, and guilt for the silly stupid tears)
When people ask me about my life, I like to pull out my three-page resume of Mistakes, and show them off "Look how much I've learned!" I grin, "Look how much I've lived!".
Probably though, I'm making the same mistakes again, as we speak. 
"A year ago it wouldn't have been alright"

I can't I can't i can't i cant i cant icant icanticanticanticanticanticanticanticanticanticant
But I can't stop thinking about you, and it's ruining everything.
Splashing in the pool always seemed like fun, but then you start to choke, and then you're in over your head, and then you realize that it's not a game.
There's still monday.
Maybe I just need a good london fog.
And a deep breath. (And a hug?) 


(I'm sorry if I copied you, and accidently ruined it)