of all the gin joints
:) You called me tonight. You said it was because you hadn't heard my voice, I knew it was because of your book report thing. That's okay, I will always take what I can get. You want a recap, I promised it after your homework, but I break promises easy. So. In the style of Faulkner, your beloved, here is how it went down:
the clock tiraded seven with chimes, deafening, click in time to her rapping of knuckles to imitation oak, impatiently indulgent: the eyes of the angry, bitten lips of the guilty, the head that nods from side to side, search walls for morals or peraps simply morale, touching each shoulder with a glance and wonder where those damnable sides of conscience went, stuck in some past tale of sin to leave you scattered, oh repentance. '-so, busy?' a sentence already started in some past conversation we've already had and forgotten, almost a claim instead of a question, riddled with discomfort that comes from confrontation with family members, things you've said just slightly short of unforgivable and yet unconceivably long from laughs. Luckily, we are missing the constant of deep caring, knowing our ties are of mutual admiration, but our adoration lies in third-parties and names we use like anchors, dropped from the heaviness of our intent; oh, what is her intent and with whom? my rebuff of her suggestion leads to another question, 'can we talk' besides the fact that we are, so I reaffirm that we can, judging her confession, rating her repentance. Her explanation is one of self-defense, mine of Her-defense (not her, but Her, but You), and my noble intent prevails until the understanding of one look given, the lock on her laughingstock some fortnight ago, and I apologize with disdain, greatly referencing that it was her, in fact I avoided, decision to be so public about the affair, and thus it is not my fault with what did happened, is thought to have happened, or did not happen. She conceded defeat and said we could talk from now on, and I inquired if her true intent in the discussion did not infact stem from some other deep-rooted alterior motive: one, that she were in fact in grave desire to re-act said 'lock on laughing stock' and make certain public hearsay into true news, such theory was quickly preceded with great amounts of laughter (from her), and the mention that one would rather not contract inter-species STDs anyways (said me to her), which was greeted with great mocking in that clever bastard smirk she has perfected so well, you know the one, the kind that tips over and smacks you on the nose and you just want to grin and perhaps wallop her with a great metal club, maybe with a spike or two, anything just to get that smug smile off her fucking mouth, the way you'd wreck some damn pretty painting just to show it that its overrated, over-looked-at, and completely fallible, and just you wait until someone sees that nice little tear you've got down your face Mona Lisa, won't be so pretty now will you? and two, being that someone else, a third-party, (namely some un-nameable for the sake of privacy, with the understanding that this is a magnificent person of great stature, whose team I defended gallantly, who I bought one chocolate bunny, whom both the first and second party have concluded physically-intimate actions with, of which I was, undoubtedly better at several years ago) had requested our niceties due to school's ending, to which she readily agreed was more likely the case, because she in fact, refused to give up cigarettes, so she would rather do something else to appease the third party, due to the unremittant fact that she is, as was inevitably conceptualized in the omega, completely dependent on the good-opinion on said-third-party and will do anything to gain approval from the party, to which I pointed out would eventually, despite her decisions now, lead to the removal of said cigarettes from her life, and then she sighed and said she did not particularly like chosing between her addictions, and asked if I had made that choice, to which I replied that my love was deeper, but still ultimately I feel that she would make the same conclusion that I did, and I chose my virtue over my vice, and she agreed that if there were some ultimatum, she would do as imitation, and made me swear not to tell third-party. I am a promise breaker. Then she hugged me, a pale shadow to her true intentions that I know must be there, and left.
Actually it was funny. The end went like:
N: Do you really want to be here?
R: You mean apologizing? Because gee-damn, I love that activity. I start shit just to say sorry.
N: Is there another reason?
R: Like?
N: You want my sex?
R: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA(this continued at great lengths for a long time, sadly). No.
N: She asked you to?
R: (sigh) Why the fuck else would I be here?
N: You could have just lied to pacify her.
R: That's always your fucking advice, now isn't it?
N: It works for the government.
R: Well, fuck, I agreed with her a little, anyways.
N: Oh yeah?
R: Like 2%.
N: I agreed like only .5%
R: Well, I agreed really 2% if you minus 1.75%.
N: Well...fuck you, I hate math.
R: As long as we both recognize we don't think the other one is remotely right, we can continue living peacefully.
N: Yes, for if you were to actually agree, then I would have to make fun of you. A lot. Mandatory.
R: Then I'd shoot you.
N: She would kill you, then.
R: Yes, and I cannot have that, so let's just stick to this "fuck you" bit.
N: Okay.
R: Bye
N: BRB.
haha. You still make me laugh when you make stupid shit happen a thousand miles away.
:) Must be that smile.
the clock tiraded seven with chimes, deafening, click in time to her rapping of knuckles to imitation oak, impatiently indulgent: the eyes of the angry, bitten lips of the guilty, the head that nods from side to side, search walls for morals or peraps simply morale, touching each shoulder with a glance and wonder where those damnable sides of conscience went, stuck in some past tale of sin to leave you scattered, oh repentance. '-so, busy?' a sentence already started in some past conversation we've already had and forgotten, almost a claim instead of a question, riddled with discomfort that comes from confrontation with family members, things you've said just slightly short of unforgivable and yet unconceivably long from laughs. Luckily, we are missing the constant of deep caring, knowing our ties are of mutual admiration, but our adoration lies in third-parties and names we use like anchors, dropped from the heaviness of our intent; oh, what is her intent and with whom? my rebuff of her suggestion leads to another question, 'can we talk' besides the fact that we are, so I reaffirm that we can, judging her confession, rating her repentance. Her explanation is one of self-defense, mine of Her-defense (not her, but Her, but You), and my noble intent prevails until the understanding of one look given, the lock on her laughingstock some fortnight ago, and I apologize with disdain, greatly referencing that it was her, in fact I avoided, decision to be so public about the affair, and thus it is not my fault with what did happened, is thought to have happened, or did not happen. She conceded defeat and said we could talk from now on, and I inquired if her true intent in the discussion did not infact stem from some other deep-rooted alterior motive: one, that she were in fact in grave desire to re-act said 'lock on laughing stock' and make certain public hearsay into true news, such theory was quickly preceded with great amounts of laughter (from her), and the mention that one would rather not contract inter-species STDs anyways (said me to her), which was greeted with great mocking in that clever bastard smirk she has perfected so well, you know the one, the kind that tips over and smacks you on the nose and you just want to grin and perhaps wallop her with a great metal club, maybe with a spike or two, anything just to get that smug smile off her fucking mouth, the way you'd wreck some damn pretty painting just to show it that its overrated, over-looked-at, and completely fallible, and just you wait until someone sees that nice little tear you've got down your face Mona Lisa, won't be so pretty now will you? and two, being that someone else, a third-party, (namely some un-nameable for the sake of privacy, with the understanding that this is a magnificent person of great stature, whose team I defended gallantly, who I bought one chocolate bunny, whom both the first and second party have concluded physically-intimate actions with, of which I was, undoubtedly better at several years ago) had requested our niceties due to school's ending, to which she readily agreed was more likely the case, because she in fact, refused to give up cigarettes, so she would rather do something else to appease the third party, due to the unremittant fact that she is, as was inevitably conceptualized in the omega, completely dependent on the good-opinion on said-third-party and will do anything to gain approval from the party, to which I pointed out would eventually, despite her decisions now, lead to the removal of said cigarettes from her life, and then she sighed and said she did not particularly like chosing between her addictions, and asked if I had made that choice, to which I replied that my love was deeper, but still ultimately I feel that she would make the same conclusion that I did, and I chose my virtue over my vice, and she agreed that if there were some ultimatum, she would do as imitation, and made me swear not to tell third-party. I am a promise breaker. Then she hugged me, a pale shadow to her true intentions that I know must be there, and left.
Actually it was funny. The end went like:
N: Do you really want to be here?
R: You mean apologizing? Because gee-damn, I love that activity. I start shit just to say sorry.
N: Is there another reason?
R: Like?
N: You want my sex?
R: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA(this continued at great lengths for a long time, sadly). No.
N: She asked you to?
R: (sigh) Why the fuck else would I be here?
N: You could have just lied to pacify her.
R: That's always your fucking advice, now isn't it?
N: It works for the government.
R: Well, fuck, I agreed with her a little, anyways.
N: Oh yeah?
R: Like 2%.
N: I agreed like only .5%
R: Well, I agreed really 2% if you minus 1.75%.
N: Well...fuck you, I hate math.
R: As long as we both recognize we don't think the other one is remotely right, we can continue living peacefully.
N: Yes, for if you were to actually agree, then I would have to make fun of you. A lot. Mandatory.
R: Then I'd shoot you.
N: She would kill you, then.
R: Yes, and I cannot have that, so let's just stick to this "fuck you" bit.
N: Okay.
R: Bye
N: BRB.
haha. You still make me laugh when you make stupid shit happen a thousand miles away.
:) Must be that smile.