here they are...
the guts. all over the computer screen for you to absorb. or read anyway. letters into words into sentences. sooner or later, its a letter. email. myspace message. pick your poison. quick fix. from miles and miles away. another time zone of distance.
i fear domestication. this is my story. of wifelihood. of the rural mid-west. im not even a suburb of somewhere bigger-brighter. i am literally in the middle of nothing. nothing but john deeres and corn feed mindless conservatives. im no radical, mind you. but i am not mindless. quite the contrary. i am still lyndsi vance for reason. it scares the locals. give a little girl an inch, she'll grow up stronger than you knew girls could grow. this all said, i enjoy being married. being part of something i could never do alone. i may still be ms. vance but any day i decide, i could be mrs. hackett. just a form and a long wait in a line. pass the corn on the cob please. its worth considering anyway. its an institution because americans need to label everything that crosses their paths. its also an institution because no one likes to be lonely. especially in the middle of nowhere nebraska. where is the hell is nebraska anyway? somewhere in the middle, i think. far away from home.
i spend most of my time (aside from my 45+ hours at work a week) listening to music like elliott smith and reading books on existentialism and fat girls named delores and buddhism to keep my mind from being styrofoam. everyone in the midwest wants a girl with styrofoam brains. which is why i choose to remain otherwise. as im sure you recall, i was never one to appease the moral majority. let alone, the nebraskans.
i long for creativity. for people who value culture. shit for people who know that culture doesnt JUST mean other countries approach to living. i miss holding conversations that didnt have to begin with niceties about the weather or fake smiles because what the hell else are we supposed to talk about? someday, i will move home. someday, i will make it back and i fear that while i find peace-robbie will in turn wilt. he is a good man with wonderful ideals and love pouring outta him like youd think he was gay. but. he is one of the many here that dont understand why i havent changed my name to his yet. why cant i just be like im supposed to be and assimilate to how people believe i should behave...
rules are there to be observed by those that fear change and were never taught to think for themselves.
howve you been?
i fear domestication. this is my story. of wifelihood. of the rural mid-west. im not even a suburb of somewhere bigger-brighter. i am literally in the middle of nothing. nothing but john deeres and corn feed mindless conservatives. im no radical, mind you. but i am not mindless. quite the contrary. i am still lyndsi vance for reason. it scares the locals. give a little girl an inch, she'll grow up stronger than you knew girls could grow. this all said, i enjoy being married. being part of something i could never do alone. i may still be ms. vance but any day i decide, i could be mrs. hackett. just a form and a long wait in a line. pass the corn on the cob please. its worth considering anyway. its an institution because americans need to label everything that crosses their paths. its also an institution because no one likes to be lonely. especially in the middle of nowhere nebraska. where is the hell is nebraska anyway? somewhere in the middle, i think. far away from home.
i spend most of my time (aside from my 45+ hours at work a week) listening to music like elliott smith and reading books on existentialism and fat girls named delores and buddhism to keep my mind from being styrofoam. everyone in the midwest wants a girl with styrofoam brains. which is why i choose to remain otherwise. as im sure you recall, i was never one to appease the moral majority. let alone, the nebraskans.
i long for creativity. for people who value culture. shit for people who know that culture doesnt JUST mean other countries approach to living. i miss holding conversations that didnt have to begin with niceties about the weather or fake smiles because what the hell else are we supposed to talk about? someday, i will move home. someday, i will make it back and i fear that while i find peace-robbie will in turn wilt. he is a good man with wonderful ideals and love pouring outta him like youd think he was gay. but. he is one of the many here that dont understand why i havent changed my name to his yet. why cant i just be like im supposed to be and assimilate to how people believe i should behave...
rules are there to be observed by those that fear change and were never taught to think for themselves.
howve you been?