(no subject)
Trevor! trevor, i've pissed my pants trevor, i've pissed my goddamn pants, where are you? Trevor, trevor, i've pissed my pants....
unalloyed by either age or youth, ringing mildly with surprise and a desire to project, thusly a man's voice woke me. it's not late, not even nine, but it's dark and nobody's home and i don't know if i'm dreaming or waking again. why the fuck would i dream about a grown man pissing his pants, or 'excuse me, but are there electrodes attached to your head'? yet my roommate isn't home and i think i was awake but tired but the windows are open, this might be happening or haunting me. whom do i haunt?
eric called, i'd missed him, he seems well. he didn't ask about jason and it's good not to explain. when i explain it's only ever an admission that i'm powerless. He's acting again, about to graduate, happy maybe. I can think of no one more deserving of a little happiness. me semblable.
talked to paul, my sisters. well, good, all....
Boston this weekend. At a genuine joint was taught steps by spanish men who smelt like french whores, and seemed sincerely grateful that i let them clasp my hand for a few minutes and twirl about a bit. I must meet their women....I did not feel cheap. I cannot ever remember ever dancing with some drunken odiferous fuck (but were they fucks?) in the dark to too much regaeton and not feeling cheap, maligned, or hunted. i should go back sometime. i smiled.
head was splitting. Morgan had a great time. there is another who deserves some happiness, some plants, some light. took her to the cider mill. sat in sun and ate donuts and (of course) cider. took pictures of trees. she seems like a sister that i had once, a long time ago.
these people cannot be all that bad, they speak of beauty on slow autumn afternoons in the failing light, when the world is so deftly posed on the brink
i fear i fear that the darkness is coming to bear with the light. as it must....
unalloyed by either age or youth, ringing mildly with surprise and a desire to project, thusly a man's voice woke me. it's not late, not even nine, but it's dark and nobody's home and i don't know if i'm dreaming or waking again. why the fuck would i dream about a grown man pissing his pants, or 'excuse me, but are there electrodes attached to your head'? yet my roommate isn't home and i think i was awake but tired but the windows are open, this might be happening or haunting me. whom do i haunt?
eric called, i'd missed him, he seems well. he didn't ask about jason and it's good not to explain. when i explain it's only ever an admission that i'm powerless. He's acting again, about to graduate, happy maybe. I can think of no one more deserving of a little happiness. me semblable.
talked to paul, my sisters. well, good, all....
Boston this weekend. At a genuine joint was taught steps by spanish men who smelt like french whores, and seemed sincerely grateful that i let them clasp my hand for a few minutes and twirl about a bit. I must meet their women....I did not feel cheap. I cannot ever remember ever dancing with some drunken odiferous fuck (but were they fucks?) in the dark to too much regaeton and not feeling cheap, maligned, or hunted. i should go back sometime. i smiled.
head was splitting. Morgan had a great time. there is another who deserves some happiness, some plants, some light. took her to the cider mill. sat in sun and ate donuts and (of course) cider. took pictures of trees. she seems like a sister that i had once, a long time ago.
these people cannot be all that bad, they speak of beauty on slow autumn afternoons in the failing light, when the world is so deftly posed on the brink
i fear i fear that the darkness is coming to bear with the light. as it must....