Chicken Pot Pie
I was thinking about it earlier, and I've come to realize just how much I've always wanted to be that deeply-introspective-offbeat-and-spontaneous-but-still-fucked-up girl who can quote classic literature and pop culture seamlessly.
I want to -be- Winona Ryder in Reality Bites, or Ione Skye in Dream For an Insomniac, with quips, quotes and witticisms flowing like honey from lips. That girl who's presence is intoxicating and engaging, doing crazy, spontaneous, dangerous, but somehow endearing and life-affirming things on a daily basis, things that keep a man's mind occupied even when he's not around me.
Or even to be one of the crazy bitches that fucks a man's brain so hard that he's forever left with the imprint of my existence, and he'll keep coming back for more.
But I'm not intoxicating or indelible, I don't touch anyone's soul and make it answer.
I'm... comfort food. Mashed potatoes, apple pie. Standard, reliable. Enjoyable and pleasant, but memory melds the experience with all the others that came before it that were oh-so-similar. Maybe on my good days I get gravy or some vanilla ice cream, respectively. A slightly quirky spin on otherwise standard fare.
I realize these women are made of scripts and actresses, ink and whiteout. However, I've known people who really are like this. One in particular, he possesses some natural ability to phrase things in a way that is both entertaining and mesmerizing, making even the most dark and gruesome fare seem somehow intriguing, a font of all the pop culture that the so-not-scene would know.
I want to leave my mark, I want my voice to echo, I want to make someone ache the way I have for others.
I wish I were indelible.
(X-posted to LiveJournal and MySpace)
I want to -be- Winona Ryder in Reality Bites, or Ione Skye in Dream For an Insomniac, with quips, quotes and witticisms flowing like honey from lips. That girl who's presence is intoxicating and engaging, doing crazy, spontaneous, dangerous, but somehow endearing and life-affirming things on a daily basis, things that keep a man's mind occupied even when he's not around me.
Or even to be one of the crazy bitches that fucks a man's brain so hard that he's forever left with the imprint of my existence, and he'll keep coming back for more.
But I'm not intoxicating or indelible, I don't touch anyone's soul and make it answer.
I'm... comfort food. Mashed potatoes, apple pie. Standard, reliable. Enjoyable and pleasant, but memory melds the experience with all the others that came before it that were oh-so-similar. Maybe on my good days I get gravy or some vanilla ice cream, respectively. A slightly quirky spin on otherwise standard fare.
I realize these women are made of scripts and actresses, ink and whiteout. However, I've known people who really are like this. One in particular, he possesses some natural ability to phrase things in a way that is both entertaining and mesmerizing, making even the most dark and gruesome fare seem somehow intriguing, a font of all the pop culture that the so-not-scene would know.
I want to leave my mark, I want my voice to echo, I want to make someone ache the way I have for others.
I wish I were indelible.
(X-posted to LiveJournal and MySpace)