Liam
what if the world ended and nobody noticed? We're all self-involved and dysfunctional to begin with, right? So as I see it, my best times are either behind me at only about 25 years, or still lay ahead in a future unknown, much like the zombie apocalypse.
Why do I torture myself with obsession and memory and the endless quest for a True Love that for all intensive purposes, I can all but prove does NOT exist?!
What if he's dead? Or happily married with 3 kids? What if he doesn't remember me? Or worse still, remembers a me that I can't be anymore? What if he's not awakened or even self-aware at all? What if he were to meet me tomorrow and simply decide that the timing was all wrong, or that I was clearly unbalanced and not ready for the vindicating and epic romance that I desire? I guess if he's the ideal man, doesn't that automatically make him too good for half-crazy, mortal, androgynous-waif me?
These are sadly not new topics of late-night discussions that I have with myself.
'the burning fields--
three years on; three years off.
and til the calling of the 13 comes to order,
you must bear this trial Alone.'
(I woke up one afternoon with that written on my left arm-- very Donnie Darko of me; Jake would be So jealous.)
Dust called me today, just to talk. We both decided that we can't really afford anything that the other wants or needs for the holidays. He needs the cure for cancer and I need peace in the middle east and a blow-job. Or something like that. So, since I'm a good little my-stalker, I'm so died-and-gone-to-the-seventh-grade retarted for the boy (whom let me remind you, I've never actually met), I'm making him a mixed CD to tell him how I feel in closer detail. It could be going better. Yeah...
it starts with previously posted "Be Still" by Kelly Clarkson.
Think I'll end it with "The lapdance is always better wen the stripper is crying."
At some point I'm going to fit in the following:
EURYTHMICS- "My True Love"
"My true love is sitting on a pile of stones
And hes wondering to himself
Oh where did I go wrong?
My true love has found himself alone
And hes sorry for it all
And for the hurt weve done
And Ive given more than I can take
Fallen for the same mistake
Promises were made to break
What will save us now?
And I dont want to remember
And I dont want to remember
My true love is a saccharine kind of pill
That tastes too sweet for words
And cannot be fulfilled
My true love is a dangerous china cup
With all the broken pieces
That cannot be picked up
Now all the colours left to run
All the dreams have been undone
Love has left me standing here
Raging at the sun
And I dont want to remember
And I dont want to remember"
So I think that pretty much covers it. For now anyway.
Where the hell are you, my hero, my river, my only weakness?
I'm beginning to hate the moon.
Liam, you bastard, if ever you read this, I sure hope you have a good long laugh at what an utter goon I am.
Why do I torture myself with obsession and memory and the endless quest for a True Love that for all intensive purposes, I can all but prove does NOT exist?!
What if he's dead? Or happily married with 3 kids? What if he doesn't remember me? Or worse still, remembers a me that I can't be anymore? What if he's not awakened or even self-aware at all? What if he were to meet me tomorrow and simply decide that the timing was all wrong, or that I was clearly unbalanced and not ready for the vindicating and epic romance that I desire? I guess if he's the ideal man, doesn't that automatically make him too good for half-crazy, mortal, androgynous-waif me?
These are sadly not new topics of late-night discussions that I have with myself.
'the burning fields--
three years on; three years off.
and til the calling of the 13 comes to order,
you must bear this trial Alone.'
(I woke up one afternoon with that written on my left arm-- very Donnie Darko of me; Jake would be So jealous.)
Dust called me today, just to talk. We both decided that we can't really afford anything that the other wants or needs for the holidays. He needs the cure for cancer and I need peace in the middle east and a blow-job. Or something like that. So, since I'm a good little my-stalker, I'm so died-and-gone-to-the-seventh-grade retarted for the boy (whom let me remind you, I've never actually met), I'm making him a mixed CD to tell him how I feel in closer detail. It could be going better. Yeah...
it starts with previously posted "Be Still" by Kelly Clarkson.
Think I'll end it with "The lapdance is always better wen the stripper is crying."
At some point I'm going to fit in the following:
EURYTHMICS- "My True Love"
"My true love is sitting on a pile of stones
And hes wondering to himself
Oh where did I go wrong?
My true love has found himself alone
And hes sorry for it all
And for the hurt weve done
And Ive given more than I can take
Fallen for the same mistake
Promises were made to break
What will save us now?
And I dont want to remember
And I dont want to remember
My true love is a saccharine kind of pill
That tastes too sweet for words
And cannot be fulfilled
My true love is a dangerous china cup
With all the broken pieces
That cannot be picked up
Now all the colours left to run
All the dreams have been undone
Love has left me standing here
Raging at the sun
And I dont want to remember
And I dont want to remember"
So I think that pretty much covers it. For now anyway.
Where the hell are you, my hero, my river, my only weakness?
I'm beginning to hate the moon.
Liam, you bastard, if ever you read this, I sure hope you have a good long laugh at what an utter goon I am.