307.
We studied the subjunctive last week in German. Future tenses make me daydream, and past-tense hypotheticals just make me morose. They breed regret, I think. Context, too, and anything but the here-and-now.
I don't believe in the subjunctive. I don't know what I do believe in, but it's not that shit.
I don't believe in disbelief, either.
Sitting around, sometimes I think I know what I want. Who, when, seasoned how. Ripe tomatoes or a plate of zero-calorie cookies made delicious with sugar and butter. Brownies and good vanilla icecream. (Bryers.) A pretty woman, whose essence & existence preemptively fit my every whim. Cravings without consequence or reality or anything but the hedonistic satisfaction thereof.
They call me ageless (and that's a gratuitiously misused pronoun), but I'm not old enough yet that I can't remember last week's dreams. Remembering doesn't mean I still want them.
..
It was sunny yesterday. I sat outside after I got home and played with Otis. He's orange and hard to pet. He bounces up, rolls over, or walks around seconds after he sits down. Sometimes he paws, and sometimes he just rams his head into you. Other times he paws all sharplike, and those times I get all afraid.
He's kind of womanly like that.
I'm going to get a film camera soon. Ideally, I'll trade my digital for my mom's oldschool Canon or whatever. This won't stop me from posting, because I work in a lab with a decent scanner, but hopefully I won't just post 'keke look how much fun I had fucking around in the darkroom 1-20.jpg'
If I were a stoner, I could get away with saying, 'man, these signs can be so deep.' I'm not, so I'll just say that I get a kick out of signs, and that the sky was pretty that day.
I don't believe in the subjunctive. I don't know what I do believe in, but it's not that shit.
I don't believe in disbelief, either.
Sitting around, sometimes I think I know what I want. Who, when, seasoned how. Ripe tomatoes or a plate of zero-calorie cookies made delicious with sugar and butter. Brownies and good vanilla icecream. (Bryers.) A pretty woman, whose essence & existence preemptively fit my every whim. Cravings without consequence or reality or anything but the hedonistic satisfaction thereof.
They call me ageless (and that's a gratuitiously misused pronoun), but I'm not old enough yet that I can't remember last week's dreams. Remembering doesn't mean I still want them.
..
It was sunny yesterday. I sat outside after I got home and played with Otis. He's orange and hard to pet. He bounces up, rolls over, or walks around seconds after he sits down. Sometimes he paws, and sometimes he just rams his head into you. Other times he paws all sharplike, and those times I get all afraid.
He's kind of womanly like that.
I'm going to get a film camera soon. Ideally, I'll trade my digital for my mom's oldschool Canon or whatever. This won't stop me from posting, because I work in a lab with a decent scanner, but hopefully I won't just post 'keke look how much fun I had fucking around in the darkroom 1-20.jpg'
If I were a stoner, I could get away with saying, 'man, these signs can be so deep.' I'm not, so I'll just say that I get a kick out of signs, and that the sky was pretty that day.