The 6th of December

[Sepia]

We reread the old books to keep up with the wisdom we once knew for truth, now mere echoes in our conversations and opinions. The truly clever we read when we were far too young to know what it meant, we remembered those words, we carried them with us and a year after we'd forgotten them we needed them, we were searching for them but they didn't come. The lovers, do they become better people when they are together or do they act like better people around eachother, the worst kind of fear for a backstab, is it driving with you in your shallowest of loves?

I believed we were dying, I though we were withering away. I looked at history and something broken inside me told me we were withering away, I was reading 1984/Brave New World/Kallocain/Darkness at Noon, waiting for it to happen. Waiting for a clearly defined opponent, waiting for what history told me I would inevitably encounter but I lived my life in the books and it took me a while to realize that it doesn't really matter if its truth or not, in hindsight things are irrevocably beautiful and this now we value so highly, that is truth

Semantics take a hold of your head and your mind when it loops, looking at definitions and labels into a pocketed eternity. I hoped we were dying, tired as we were. I hoped for an end station but I hoped for it in a literary context, I hoped for something that would be beautiful and make sense on some level and I knew I'd been wrong. I had gone from believing his words from when he told me how awesome it was to paint fences, how exquisite a joy it was before believing it, fully, with heart and fang and painting these here fences for so many years.

I was lost while you were wandering, into shadows and spots of bright light, I kept watching myself wanting me to do something but when I did something I got bored and I never thought I should do anything else and here is my flaw. I dreamt of it when I were a wee child and I was hunched over the toilet and I was vomiting, dry coughs and some liquid, feeling innocent before everything I hit the water and in the midst I saw a gleaming thing with lovecraftian dimensions, it looked like a machine and an octopus and I held it twixt my fingers and I remembered the future in a violent row of deja vu. I. I am.

Say I am and all that you are. Take your time, breathe, relax.

[The Johnny]

Lovers act better around each other, for it is an intolerable blow to our narcicissm when we cannot hide our own flaws when we intentionally try to do so. And indeed what is it that we fear from a backstab, if we truly deserved it? All of  my dead lovers under a tree - one more to make them company.

To find the true opponent one must just look in a mirror while at least half wasted; things as they are are indeed beautiful, it is ourselves to blame to have unreasonable expectations of how it should be and plotting always exponentionally the number of solutions possible.

[The Johnny]

I kept watching myself wanting me to do something but when I did something I got bored and I never thought I should do anything else...

That sentence is sad

[Kai]

I've wondered what it is about your style that makes it so wonderful. I think its the way that you make your sentences, your statements, just long enough so there is a whirlwind of tension tumbling along within them that picks you up and carries you. At the end of the sentence you reach some peak and the tension is released, you're left fumbling not along but down. You fall into the next sentence, and the next, and then the last, and then the world stops.

Or something like that.

[Captain Utopia]

I have to say I didn't start appreciating this style until I started reading it in an Irish accent. :shrug: