fuel for the fire.

[mooncurve]

this year, thanksgiving was the structure of the per usual unfamiliar upper middle class family and a late late night full of intoxication and period and tension between friends lingering in the air and a listless half sleep at 7 am and conversations the afternoon after all clashing and merging into one ball that has left me aghast, half-present.

Comments

[bestiame]

i am wondering what feelings this weekend with my edumacated relatives will stir up, if it happens. i think didn't realize this when we were talking in the car, but i have this same relationship with school, kind of.

somewhere in my livejournal archives is an entry detailing my weird memory-dream of college that never happened. dorm life in the autumn months, lecture halls, writing papers, study groups, hours in the library. it's not real, it never, ever really happened. maybe it never will.

all of a sudden i know exactly how you feel.

[bestiame]

voilà

[kunstler89]

i can never walk into a room full of people standing over dinner party appetizers and introduce my fiance and talk about the house i might buy. i have always stared at the people walking into the tall buildings with floors upon floors of glass windows and sad coffee shops stuck in the lobby and wondered what exactly goes on in them. shuffling by people with ties and women in blazers, the clip-clop of patent leather shoes on the shiny linoleum floors.

I've been in all of those shoes on various occasions: introducing a fiancee over hors d'oeuvres, walking into tall glass buildings, passing ties and blazers over clicky linoleum floors. Do yourself a favor and deny yourself the mystique. Those places are filled with boring, shallow people who try to make themselves feel interesting by speaking the same boring, shallow, bastardized language. I would always arrive home from such outings with a perceived dross on my skin and a cottony feel to my tongue. It's not life, it's a construct that people convince themselves is life. The only reason