mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

  • Mood:
  • Music:

the fog is lifted!

do pretty generally happy people ever have anything intresting to say? "my girlfriend is asleep but we totally flirted all night!" or i don't know "i fucked around on the internet successfully!" success! no one could have imagined all my stylish steroid packed internet use! also, cheesy music is cool! is architecture in helsinki the indie version of andrew w.k., only with less cred? because man, i don't know anything about music, but that is the vibe i'm soaking in. i'm not against that, i'm just saying. i'm not against it but i guess i am hatin'. i sure like hate. man, hate is my favorite, largely on account of how i'm made up of it. though, you know, malice is reallly a superior distillation of it. i'm invested in your drama, because...i like to see ashes twist in the wind! man, i need to stop talking, because i'm all goofy as fuck. see, being cheerful makes you insufferable. reminds me of pseudo hippies throwing their game. fuck that shit! hell yeah a mother fucker is putting the damage on. & speaking of putting the damage on, what is up with everyone giving grief to tori amos lately? i mean, sure, she's a huge weirdo, but what do you savage fucking apes want out of your rock stars? seriously, if you want tame fucking shit, okay. but no kidding the successful faerie lady is going to act all crazy! also, i wish bitches would lay off the rape jokes. i mean, sure, if she made her career out of it, i'd be there in the trenches with you. but she made one rape record! also one miscarriage record. & i mean, those are some pretty decent themes for a self-introspective record. i don't know, i'm just saying. she's sure fallen off her game (mostly her recent albums have been forgetable) but she still has some pretty strong mojo.

not that i'm aiming at any point; quite the contrary. i'm completely on team shoot the breeze. shoot everything, actually. i don't know. i am, if we want to be honest? i mean, i'm kind of self conscious about it. but she's home, & it changes the entire game. i live a life that makes the whole lonely game a joke. existentialism? do you have any fucking idea who i am? you want to talk about scared? about abandonment? well fuck you. i'm cut of an entirely diffrent cloth. but my point is more- here i am, in the empty corridors of life, but there she is asleep over there like an idol laid out upon the altar. to wax poetic would be bullshit, because wax melts beneath fire. i kevlar poetic sometimes about her. she's my girl. all the hurt, all the mess? some people chalk it up to experiance. i chalk it up to trial & error. i'm fucking crazy when i look at her. i mean, i'm not kidding when i say i should kill her. she holds too many cards. we all know i won't, but i mean. the things i'd do for her make the heroism of your life look like my daily subway ride. but that shouldn't come as any surprise. i'm much, much better than everyone else, even if it is a matter of kind. we angels are of an iron you clay-born cannot know.

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.