a spy in the wire, dark eyes in the wires…

some observations from over the years:

*distracted by a girl in a red shirt*
I’m caught by the fragile wonderfulness of a tall pale girl with short dark hair and a longish red shirt. She had a tight, contained prettiness that distracted me from writing a silly, but funny story. Now she’s gone away and I feel a tad bereft, but that isn’t wrong of me, now is it? Beauty always distracts me. I’m caught by the shape of a face, the curve of a body, even particular colours of hair. The light falling on buildings at night enraptures me. The feel of the cool soothing breeze against my skin often leaves me speechless. Inanimate, animate, re-animate– beauty in any shape leaves me wandering away from my writing down the hall after a ghost of loveliness from my past.

*how songs sometimes make me feel*
I hate when I can feel the taste of a song in my throat, like the slickness of a desirant cunt or the sprung softness of a warm nipple. The potentiality chokes me with its ripe expectance, like it can’t wait for me to fill it out, fluff it up with frills and lyrics and proper middle 8ths. It’s a sudden sense of wonder as elusive as it is elucidative.

*about online identities, and 60s rockstars*
They all looked like baby Jesus. Little boys waiting for the beginning of the new world. I sometimes had this dream I was there with them, the exotic, unusual, brilliant birdmad girl they could stare at and be inspired by. It was a dream bound by age. I was fascinated by the sixties and the idea of carrying through something antithetically mainstream. Happenstance, though, forbade me from ever sitting in a cold green room with these illusory godsons and asking them what it means to be of the real. Thus leaving me with this world of the internet. It’s a toss-up here in the online aether, what is of the real and what is not.

The people who constantly slip in and out of online skins, a new personality every sixmonth. The people who use their real names online and try to keep their offline and online personas the same. And those in the lengthy middle. A bit braver online, perhaps, or more playful, more cruel, a bit more of something they are not offline. There will always be a difference for most people betwixt the online self (dream self perhaps) and the real-life self. That the distinction is made still, will yet be made, between the cyber-aether and the air outside, real air, sums the split mind of humanity. This case being Western most America humanity, but the sharpened point still holds. One needs some dream self to counter the real. The dream can be of the real, but it cannot overwhelm the real. Who dreams most lives least. Living online is allowable, but it cannot be all the real one has. There is always more.