and in that moment i knew she was wrong
the Monkey truly denotes a time of Change
this change of seasons is harder to weather than anticipated
funny that, how no matter how we prepare for the winter,
no matter how many canned goods we stock,
no matter the amount of fresh water stored safely in the pantry,
we can still be taken aback from the ferocity of the winds and snow,
still be buried by the storm's fury,
frozen to the bone by the squalls that threaten to close us in our own homes
the thin display window that stands between you and the world inside
the dolls all dressed up in their Sunday Best
they're putting on a show, making a sale,
enticing you to come in, consume,
convincing you that you need and want the new Styles,
that the outfits you see before you are More You,
Bigger, Better, More Modern
than your tired-old tattered antiquated garments
and you hesitantly enter, and find yourself slowly reaching for your wallet
without even thinking about it
saying to yourself
"maybe i could use a new shirt, and my shoes are a little worn..."
and later, holes through the soles of your broken new shoes,
you start to rethink your decision,
but maybe you just werent wearing them properly,
maybe if you went out and got new new shoes,
and altered your gait accordingly,
maybe this time they would be more comfortable,
and if not, maybe you could learn to not let the cold ground coming through the holes
bother you quite as much,
and you want to fit in,
and you want to be fashionable, and modern,
and you want to Look Good
and not seem like a relic from Yesteryear that just Couldnt Die,
resembling those Late-Year hair bands that didnt realize that Grunge
had already dealt them the Killing Blow,
the chickens that dont know they're dead yet
and are frantically trying to Find A Way Out,
trying to prevail in a world that has already forgotten them and their kind,
already moved on to the Next Big Thing
and, begrudgingly, you put on the new new shoes,
and try to ignore the growing pain in your heel...
[if you close your eyes it will go away...]
and you begin to forget what it was that you define as "fashion"
and less and less question what your own tastes are
in favor of the status quo, nodding silently as you are told you look so good,
so handsome in these clothes that do not fit,
like a child playing dress-up in his father's closet,
it seems so fun at first, you can pretend to be someone else,
but half-way through you begin to yearn for the clothes that fit,
the well-worn, tattered jeans and t-shirt that is so Well Loved,
but you cant stop the game in mid-stride,
no matter how ridiculous you feel
it's only clothes, you know
and what matters is the person who wears them
or at least, that's what i try to tell myself
it doesnt matter
it doesnt matter at all
my mother always told me that i deserved whatever i wanted
i dont think i have the heart to tell her that she was wrong
~*~
this change of seasons is harder to weather than anticipated
funny that, how no matter how we prepare for the winter,
no matter how many canned goods we stock,
no matter the amount of fresh water stored safely in the pantry,
we can still be taken aback from the ferocity of the winds and snow,
still be buried by the storm's fury,
frozen to the bone by the squalls that threaten to close us in our own homes
the thin display window that stands between you and the world inside
the dolls all dressed up in their Sunday Best
they're putting on a show, making a sale,
enticing you to come in, consume,
convincing you that you need and want the new Styles,
that the outfits you see before you are More You,
Bigger, Better, More Modern
than your tired-old tattered antiquated garments
and you hesitantly enter, and find yourself slowly reaching for your wallet
without even thinking about it
saying to yourself
"maybe i could use a new shirt, and my shoes are a little worn..."
and later, holes through the soles of your broken new shoes,
you start to rethink your decision,
but maybe you just werent wearing them properly,
maybe if you went out and got new new shoes,
and altered your gait accordingly,
maybe this time they would be more comfortable,
and if not, maybe you could learn to not let the cold ground coming through the holes
bother you quite as much,
and you want to fit in,
and you want to be fashionable, and modern,
and you want to Look Good
and not seem like a relic from Yesteryear that just Couldnt Die,
resembling those Late-Year hair bands that didnt realize that Grunge
had already dealt them the Killing Blow,
the chickens that dont know they're dead yet
and are frantically trying to Find A Way Out,
trying to prevail in a world that has already forgotten them and their kind,
already moved on to the Next Big Thing
and, begrudgingly, you put on the new new shoes,
and try to ignore the growing pain in your heel...
[if you close your eyes it will go away...]
and you begin to forget what it was that you define as "fashion"
and less and less question what your own tastes are
in favor of the status quo, nodding silently as you are told you look so good,
so handsome in these clothes that do not fit,
like a child playing dress-up in his father's closet,
it seems so fun at first, you can pretend to be someone else,
but half-way through you begin to yearn for the clothes that fit,
the well-worn, tattered jeans and t-shirt that is so Well Loved,
but you cant stop the game in mid-stride,
no matter how ridiculous you feel
it's only clothes, you know
and what matters is the person who wears them
or at least, that's what i try to tell myself
it doesnt matter
it doesnt matter at all
my mother always told me that i deserved whatever i wanted
i dont think i have the heart to tell her that she was wrong
~*~