You’re right, I do feel like I’m in High School lit. doing my motherfucking journal again. Déjà vu, like déjà vu when turning the page of a book only to realize you’ve already read it at least 5 times over. I’m not really sure if I give a shit about Aguirre or not. Yes, he is a hardass, yes is a rebel, yes there is beheading (if only the way I imagine Aguirre to kill. Or maybe a more delicate slit of the throat), but all in the name of our lord and savior, Jesus H. Christ (Did you ever hear anyone in high school say that the h stood for hardcore? Don’t believe that shit, that shits wack).
No wildness permitted in religion, only premeditated bloodshed. I’m also sick of this word: W-I-L-D, and this one :W-I-L-D-E-R-N-E-S-S, and more importantly this one: N-A-T-U-R-E, seeing as I already wish it would give up and give in, this long and drawn out struggle makes it impossible to keep my attention. The one word I would really like to discuss, BEWILDERMENT!!!, is the one I can’t seem to form any thoughts on, any opinions about, any connections to …anything except for this dull ache in my cranium that tells me I’m rather bewildered as to what I’m doing here: sitting on my computer, loafing around Cincinnati, when I should be in some city “crowded like an egg”.
Coquettish-the city sucks today.
I’d much rather me reminiscing with Tabatha about our sloppy childhoods and how our dads (mine at least) were not set up to be just that: Dads. (A quick note on the _ _ _ _ N E S S of kids)Children truly don’t give a fuck, they haven’t yet been taught how to correctly give a fuck, but I still make no connection with them because I lack an imagination. I am a bewildebeest feeling fucking hunted.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment