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Everyone and All the things

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post #154
bio: kristen

first post
that week

Category List
The ones about love
The ones about men

Previous Posts
Dutch Ultimatum
The Ludditette
Friday Party #347
The Wizard of Uz
Taking One 4 the Team
Leap and the Net Will Appear

I suppose I'm experiencing what karen named "harder than you even think it could be".

Guiliano and I were talking about passion and the things that drive us.
It got - as things always do with two people who have their first conversation revealing laughingly that they are both scorpios - around to sex.

and passion.

Guiliano likes the moment. He falls in love with the woman with whom he is to make love with. He leaves her and the moment after the act has been absorbed. He will fall in love with fucking her again.
making love to her. He claimed he used to go through women at a rage.

He has had three women at one time. He is not motivated by love. He is motivated by his love of business. He loves muscle cars. He has no women friends. He doesn't really love all that much - and to him the chase is the thing involved with getting the consummation - the little death.

Immediately, I said that we are very different. I would presume his chakra drug to be cocaine - whilst mine would be a resounding marijuana. He agreed that the rushes were likely the same - fast and peakish for him and lingering and mystical for me.

I got faded at kevin's. I am watching daisy again. It is a balm, but I indeed had to do what mopsie made fun off (or was it molly?). As I sat outside in daisy's front lawn listening to my tunes and such - being high and remembering what I was and who I was... I thought of charles bukowski.

I wonder that men think it's pandering for women to profess love for bukowski - or fucked up. Wouldn't he be one that loves men and slays the women?

I love him because I want to have his freedom. Were I to have met him and lived the life he lived - been a young alcoholic pursuing dreams of art and love and fuck-it - he would have frightened me. I would have put my mask on and humouringly smiled at him and edited him out of my immediate visage to ponder and regret later.

Unless I were stoned. Were I high, I would revel in bukowski, throw my legs open like nice ladies don't sit and bawdily talk over people to get MY monologue in.

The fear would get to me, but not until later. I would be afraid that I would be sucked into the cigarette staleness and beer hangovers and sloppy sex and torturous deep conversation.

I want to be free. I want to be able to be all myselves at once. I want to dismiss the actors. I don't know how to do this obviously. I am a vampiric chameleon.

Today, I nearly cried. Now I am retreating into the numbness looking at my pinched mouth and papery wrinkled eyes. I have six spots on me face.

Once, there was a time when i had clear skin and cool futures and sound stocks and freedom from all addictions save one. This wasn't when I was a child - oh no. This was two years ago... or perhaps a bit more.

no guiliano, with me it is love. Perhaps that's as much a lie as your version. I think we seemed to agree it was all the same. For me, it's believing in fairies. Love and die for it. I always know when it will come. I know my prey well. I never know when it will go.

I have never had the honor of being said goodbye regrettingly to. This is me.

I miss my home. I miss all of it. I feel so lonely today that I would think of going to a town in new england where I don't know anyone and become a something.

What is this that I'm doing? Why am I doing it? Where will I go?

I am chewing my foot and eating my tail and wondering where you are.

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