Girls who selfishly ignore a good joke. "That was stupid," they say as they fix their hair in anything reflective. Campus is like a fashion show for them. These MTV-corrupted orange-skinned self-important young girls who are late teens and early twenties but act as though they are trapped in a high school directory, for all of eternity. Will these people ever learn, or will this shroud carry them through their lives? Blanketed in old money, daddy's little girls, the dirty whores, monet in the living room, thought highly of due to price tag as opposed to the aesthetic and historical importance of it. "Daddy! It's crooked!" Convince to coax the doctors to give her stimulants, so somehow she can keep up her pacing through this school. Complain complain. 'Oh my god. I am so done with this semester.' But imagine this statement said with her mouth open the whole time like a fish, and every other vowel sound lengthened beyond necessity. (ooooh my gooood) And the inflection changes. SO is probably high-lighted and semester lifts up in the end like a question.
"Understand me my intensity!" I yell from balconies. No one pays any attention. Hallucination of a blonde outside of the bookstore. Making eye contact and giggling. I cruised by and smiled and thought of what kind of forces pulled me away from her (as it turned out, the reason I was in a hurry was indeed no reason at all. my plans had been extinguished. she could be in my arms right now.) Possibilities are truly endless. (the class laugh at kerouac and palahniuk. they cry and scream and pout over their precious daddy's literature while keeping away from the depths of the human psyche. They care more about why a best-seller ends up selling.) Weird is good, damn it. I write in my dark room because the overhead takes a while to heat up and fill the room with warmth. Enter it for the first time in the night and the light acts as a third party method of seduction. Not intentional. Fully just makes people uncomfortable. Something cute on the couch, such as holding hands and watching a scary movie. The pot ruined it and we suddenly did not understand each other at all. Crushed your toe with a chair. Horribly wrong, everything changes. Never have I actively pursued someone who turns and actively pursues me (peruses me). I can safely say I never crushed the toes of any other. Never ruined the fountain. Never did anything. Six months later. (drive all night, you're never gunna get me) Crayon drawings and melted wax. Could easily put some crayons and a canvas outside and they would melt over a few days, creating artistic drippings down the length of it.
Full research will be executed today at the library. Or I will burn it down. I will light a cigar in the stacks and sit until someone stops me, finds me and fines me. Touchy young girl with a short hair cut had a butterfly knife in her pocket. She wrote frantically in a notebook and spoke aloud to herself when asked questions. More like muttering. Years away will I regret not becoming a more admirable opponent? I wonder, truly, where my rebel spirit went. I just can't handle these people. (Now I go to the gym with the other rats and bitches. But hey, I can use them, and my frustration of them to lift heavier weights, higher, much higher over my head.) FUEL.
***
How strange it is that the most crucial life decisions always must be faced when at the height of distraction... I don't have the summer body. I don't have a tan. I'm barely getting by. My diet sucks. I smoke cigars still too often. I don't sing enough. I've gotten better at the bass but not best. (Desired as musician. Sorry college. I'll meet back up with you later.)
You clever minx. Try to make me jealous. Switching countries.
Well what the hell am I doing?
What do I want?
I want to relax.
I want to believe in the music I play. (Lyrical content.)
Be a part of it.
WHere?
I need to do some soul searching. Everything crushes me. When I feel confidence I don't even have flyers for the show!
