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21.10.06
that's what you are ipkiss,
Im just wondering about this divide between happy and sad.
i just watched television and i watched that horrific bit of footage from the poll tax riots, where the sway of horses just eat him, voracious appetetive in the stunning atrocity.
it made me fall quiet.
the first horse knocks him aside, the horses then trample him and you can see his body a soft bag now in a leather jacket just bruise and pulp. i imagine that is what happens, anyway. you know, the reality of all those sharp shards of dry bone don't exist in my imagination for that, all is is a mushy bag inside clothes like rotten fruit.
so this is sad. so is watching the ku klux klan perform their sad little rituals. watching them clash in their sad little outfits against sweating black men with spades. sad remembering a picture of a sweating black man, 'KKK' raised across his broken belly.
and what you told me is sad. the conspirational. the politics the corruption the problems the frauds the fakes. the, what do you say, the so-po context that is so sorely wrong. i'm trying to be opinionated and passionate herebut everything is so uninformed. but i'm trying. that's really sad.
you know, that night changed my life a little.
and on one hand (my right hand) that sadness is appealing. it is my little temptress. femme fatale; sadness, worldy fatigue, apathy, oh sweet MAIDEN of fucked up beauty and piercing humanity. and i want her.
but on the other hand, the left one, the one that is left: happiness is attractive. happiness i think wants not to bed me, like sadness does, but rather happiness is that charismatic amazingly idiosyncratic uncoupled Amelie-oid. i want this too, i want this to engulf my life with warm infatuation.
like my first proper boyfriend was with me.
yeah i think i could love happiness.
and i think that: am i supposed to be entirely for one or the other? am i entirely temptress? am i but an apple on your little rotten tree?
or am i one of those easy-to-fall-for quirks; a book-reading sticker-lover of a person?
or, to be this nice, whole i am searching for, am i both?
is there a time for happy and a time for sad? is there a time for watching heart-squeezing television, and then a time for dancing around in a stupid hat trying to sing? does that work?
i mean, why the fuck should i let either rule me. i am not a donkey on a pleasurebeach of emotion. i am the rider, i bear the whip: i'm the fucking ringleader baby.
and with this. i am once again drawn to that stickly, liberating, massaging, piss and vinegar kiss-of-life phrase:
FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOU LIFE. WILL YOU STOP TRYING TO RULE ME? IF YOU'RE MARIO AND I'M GAMEBOY, THEN WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU WHEN MY BATTERY IS OUT?
NOWHERE, YOURE NOTHING, NADA, NIENTE, RIEN RIEN RIEN. a big fat zero.
try and fix that with a wrench and washer you italiano greasy-chinned dickless cunt.
whispered by killa b at 9:26 PM |
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