Brought To You By Outraged Citizens
Entranced by transitional stares, the old romantic stops dead in his tracks. This classic beauty has caught his eye and reeled him in for a more caressing glance. Her pure white hair in taught curls, dewy white skin, perfect azure eyes. The slightly ruffled metallic white dress, left arm bedecked with glimmering diamonds, hanging just so precariously. The real sensation, the cup de grace. Her perfectly rose red lips. Not thick like blood, or thin like salmon. The only thing missing is a beauty mark just above those pouty lips. But in this day and age, it would only serve to imperfect the otherwise flawless visage. But the woman of admirable staring makes her way past the ticket-check counter and steps into the planes tunnel. This old world romantic, learned on the principles of courtship and respect, sees the passing of his own ideals from his vision to the rest of the modern world. At that moment he is a man transfigured. He reveals a new person, stepping from the withered shell of his past. He silently thanks the woman for her unknowing service, and strolls to his gate with a new vigor.
Soooooo, yeah, this is terrible. I mean it. I was writing it when I was drunk, I think. That happens alot. I get inspired by mediocrity and inebriation, and this kind of shit churns out. But I post this to show you that I am fallible in every way. Including the part of my life I strive so hard in. This is my failure. I bear it and embrace it. It was beauty imbued and aborted. It serves best as a reminder to myself that I am only man. I have so many more failures ahead before I get this thing called writing right. And even when I've failed as much as I can, I will still be so far from perfect.
Rant over.
So, nothing to important to update on. Another pre-trial is set for Jan. 24th. I don't like talking about it, and I won't, so don't fucking ask. Also, this is party week for me. Wednesday is Get fucked night, Friday is get so fucked I can't see night. Not because I need to drink, not because I have issues unresolved that only sooth themselves with the aide of liquor, but because that's what you do in college. Plus, school starts next tuesday. So I have ot cram in all the fun I can fit before my uber schedule eats me alive.
Bye for now mon amis!
Soooooo, yeah, this is terrible. I mean it. I was writing it when I was drunk, I think. That happens alot. I get inspired by mediocrity and inebriation, and this kind of shit churns out. But I post this to show you that I am fallible in every way. Including the part of my life I strive so hard in. This is my failure. I bear it and embrace it. It was beauty imbued and aborted. It serves best as a reminder to myself that I am only man. I have so many more failures ahead before I get this thing called writing right. And even when I've failed as much as I can, I will still be so far from perfect.
Rant over.
So, nothing to important to update on. Another pre-trial is set for Jan. 24th. I don't like talking about it, and I won't, so don't fucking ask. Also, this is party week for me. Wednesday is Get fucked night, Friday is get so fucked I can't see night. Not because I need to drink, not because I have issues unresolved that only sooth themselves with the aide of liquor, but because that's what you do in college. Plus, school starts next tuesday. So I have ot cram in all the fun I can fit before my uber schedule eats me alive.
Bye for now mon amis!