| Oh Joy! | ||
| 2000-11-02 || your drunk friends as muses | ||
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8 o'clock is not the best time to be inhaling smoke, but who says 10 o'clock in the evening is better? Who knows, one thing I know is I have a longing. Well, can't explain it here. You're told not to get too honest in front of people, always keep your guard up, and never, ever under any circumstances, give out your phone number. The best thing you can do, is just avoid drinks when you're not thirsty, and avoid women who walk like models. The worst thing you can do, is talk and talk and try to get points across to people. Ask anyone, ask your parents. Ask your girlfriend. Ten years later, you won't remember here eyes, you won't remember what her tongue tasted like. You'll have ten different poems written about her, and a head full of memories you can't remember. Like I said, don't ever tell anyone a thing, don't be honest, and always look to the hands and fingers to do the talking. Once the heart and brain start coming into play, you fail. You fall flat on your face. Like I said a day and a half ago, it's all useless in the end. They don't care. The more you care, the less they do. They aren't out to hold you. They're out to get you. Once you realize every single human being in the world is out to get you, you'll realize the sanctuary of your bedroom in indeed just that, sanctuary, Once you realize that you can't even trust your family, let alone your boyfriend, you'll feel better. Once you get rid of "positive" feelings, you'll start to feel human again. Take those stupid looking sunglasses off in the shape of a dozen roses. I met this red head recently, and shit I would take her to the moon and back, but I have to laugh at her when I leave her. I have to turn myself around on the way out and sort of giggle to myself because I can already see into the future with her. One night of dinner. A second night of dinner, kisses that last for five weeks and hugs that last for a month. Lips that move you up into the attic, or maybe just up to the third floor. Like I said, it's not really worth it. It should be fun. have fun. I'm having fun, and I'm going to be in my thirties tomorrow. I won't be thirty anymore, I'm in there like Flynn. Once you get to this point, you'll realize that the children and twenty somethings that surround you actually have not a clue, just a longing to have a good time. Confused like dogs with no tails to chase. Once you can see as clear as a bell like I can at 8 in the morning then you will know exactlty where i'm coming from. Like I sai, don't get yourself to caught up in honesty and trust. Don't get yourself too excited about that new redhead. Don't think that that new blonde is the best kisser in the world. Once you get to a certain point, you do tend to think like this: I don't care who votes for me. Once you get to this point, you start to feel alive finally. Human, I need to write because it makes me feel human. I like to surround myself with people that make me feel human. I like the amplifier to vibrate the room and go right through my stomach into some stupid little teenagers head and get stuck there for a night haunting them. Fuck, I like to haunt people and women. I like to tell them one thing and mean another, this is as true as a truth can be. But, yeah like I said, don't get yourself too caught up in the business of day to day romance and arguments about who has a bigger record collection. You'll find that the ego is fragile, and nobody cares at the end of the day, as long as they have a good bed to sleep on. Have fun, be merry, and don't drink or do drugs, as you might miss something, and your senses will be dulled like a surgically removed penis. Hell, this is just my advice for me. I would say the best thing for a twenty something to do would actually be, drink like a fish, do as many drugs as you can, show the world your weaknesses. Show the world where it hurts, so they know where to hit you. I know that's how I work. Watch them all drink and look for their weak spots. Watch the, pretend you're on the same page, when you're actually in a different book. Watch the way the change after a drink or five. Then strike them with what you have. Strand them on an island. They won't remember it in the morning, and you'll have another great story to tell.
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