LISTEN, I'VE BEEN DRINKING, AS OUR HOUSE LIES IN RUIN. I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING: ALONE, IN THE DARK, AT THE PARK OR AT THE PIER, WATCHING SHIPS DISAPPEAR IN THE RAIN.
THE WORLD'S JUST BONES. THE WORLD IS BLACK STONES DRESSED UP IN THE RAIN WITH NO PLACE TO GO BUT HOME, JUST LIKE CASEY! ON A NIGHT LIKE THIS, WHY, HE'S PRO STARS! PRO SKY!
ALL LIT UP AND SICK OF FIGHTING BENEATH THE DISEASED LIGHTING OF THE DISCOTHEQUE AT NIGHT, IT DON'T MEAN A THING, IT NEVER MEANS A THING, IT DON'T MEAN A THING, IT NEVER MEANS A THING, IT'S GOT THAT SWING...
I'VE SEEN IT ALL... I'VE SEEN IT ALL. MAGNOLIA'S A GIRL. HER HEART'S MADE OF WOOD. AS APOCALYPSES GO, THAT'S PRETTY GOOD, SHA LA LA, WOULDN'T YOU SAY?
PLEASE REMOVE YOUR SPURS. COME TO THINK OF IT, REMOVE YOUR ANTLERS. HAVEN'T SEEN YOU FOR AGES. I STILL FLY INTO RAGES AT THE MENTION OF YOUR NAME: CHRISTINE WHITE!
I THINK ABOUT YOU OFTEN, OFF IN THE DESERT, LAUGHING YOUR HEAD OFF IN THE FORESTS OF THE NIGHT. SAY A PRAYER FOR THE LIGHT...
SO NOW I LIVE WELL, I LIVE IN THE MINE. I'M STILL SLINGING MUD AT THE TOWERS ALL THE TIME. I TOOK A WALK... AND THREW UP IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN...
I WAS BORN IN THE NORTH, BUT MY FATHER'S FROM THE SOUTH. LOVE IS A POLITICAL BEAST WITH JAWS FOR A MOUTH, I DON'T CARE. YOU'RE UPSET AND HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE. REGRETFULLY YOU DECLINE. EVERY NIGHT WAS A WASTE OF TIME. EVERY NIGHT, EVERY NIGHT, EVERY NIGHT...
YOU WERE ON THE SIDE OF GOOD. I WAS INSIDE OF THE SEA'S GUTS: A CRUMBLING BEAUTY TRAPPED IN A RIVER OF ICE. A CRUMBLING BEAUTY TRAPPED IN PARADISE. OH YES, IT WAS PARADISE!
THE TIDE COMES IN AND THE TIDE GOES OUT AGAIN. I SUPPOSE THIS IS THE KIND OF THING WE SEE EVERY DAY. THE TIDE COMES IN; THE TIDE GOES AWAY. OH, THE TIDE COMES IN, YEAH THE TIDE! YES, THE TIDE...
A RANSOM NOTE WRITTEN ON THE NIGHT SKY ABOVE REMINDS ME WHAT, IN PARTICULAR, ABOUT THIS WINE I LOVE. LIKE A PUNCTURED BEAST BETTER OFF DEAD, COMPLIMENTS GOING TO MY HEAD... LA DA DA LA DA DA!
AND SPEAKING OF MIND, THE SUNFLOWER. AND SPEAKING OF A WORLD TURNING SOUR ON YOU. I WAS 20 YEARS OLD IN 1992. I WAS BATHED IN GOLDEN SUNLIGHT, ALRIGHT!!
I WAS RIPPED ON DOPE, YOU WERE A RAY OF SUNSHINE. I WAS A HOPELESS ROMANTIC, YOU WERE SWINE. YOU GOT TO SPEND MONEY TO MAKE MONEY. YOU GOT TO STOP CALLING ME "HONEY"...
OH WORLD!, YOU FUCKING EXPLOSION THAT TURNS US AROUND. THE SEARCHLIGHT SLUMPS OVER, IT'S SO SICK OF THE NIGHT AND THE KIDS ON THE BOATS, BUSTED IN THE SHIPYARD, GOING DOWN DOWN DOWN DOWN DOWN DOWN DOWN...
YOU TRAVEL LIGHT, ALL NIGHT, EVERY NIGHT, TO ARRIVE AT THE CONCLUSION OF THE WORLD'S INUTTERABLE SECRET... AND YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH...
I'VE SEEN IT ALL, I'VE SEEN IT ALL, I'VE SEEN IT ALL...
FREE AND EASY, GENTLE, GENTLE... THE WIND THROUGH THE TREES MAKES YOU MENTAL FOR ME... CASEY, IN A STATE OF CRISIS, ON A CLOUD...
Note: Names changed for protection of the individuals
Monday, November 30, 2009
Feeling Pulled Apart By Horses
I'm not entirely sure what it means but it is how I feel.
Ég vil að fara til Íslands og að lifa einn í eyðimörkinni og syngja lög til stjörnurnar og gráta.
Einar Jónsson
Feeling pulled apaaaaaaaaaart
Monday, November 23, 2009
Cellar Door
Shape the flower in the light of the grey,
and she will walk in place of the shade.
Singing leaves found the shallow sounds
within flocculation syncopation rebounds.
And to, so soft, reverberations sigh,
hallow, hallow, hallow in the night.
Singing leaves found the shallow sounds
within flocculation syncopation rebounds.
Cellar door
And what would a Donnie Darko reference be without Mad World?
and she will walk in place of the shade.
Singing leaves found the shallow sounds
within flocculation syncopation rebounds.
And to, so soft, reverberations sigh,
hallow, hallow, hallow in the night.
Singing leaves found the shallow sounds
within flocculation syncopation rebounds.
Cellar door
And what would a Donnie Darko reference be without Mad World?
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Radiator Woman
A decision is made, the first choice of free will, but it is wrong and Death sings us a song. The Radiator Woman takes us into her embrace and when we look again, decayed and eaten is our face.
Our heads, they have turned into erasers.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
A Space of Mine Is Changed And Here Are the Remnants
The first time I experienced death, a dying death, not a silent, quick and common sort of death that comes to insects and plants but the weighty sort of death that can be measured, watched, felt, heard. Death that is an overcoming of a life still struggling to live. The kind of death that is palpable, that extends itself like a diffusing odor from the dying permeating and contaminating the atmosphere with it's oily vapor that sticks to the lungs and the roof of the mouth leaving the onlooker with a dry throat and stale taste on the tongue. I was eight.
Monday, November 16, 2009
What You Missed
Watching Billy Brown with you last summer is the only thing keeping me warm inside as it gets cold outside this winter.
What you missed was the greatest scene in the movie, but it was the greatest because we missed it.
It was then I knew I could love you, when I knew everything you missed and everything I would be missing.
What you missed was the greatest scene in the movie, but it was the greatest because we missed it.
It was then I knew I could love you, when I knew everything you missed and everything I would be missing.
But His Face Was An Iron Plague Mask
He's always tired. Always tired at this time of the month, always tired at this time of the week, always tired at this time of the day, always tired at this time of the hour. Worn, thin and grey.
Bells toll and it's time.
Walking along colorless wet leaves, clouds of carbon dioxide appear for a few moments around grey heads bowed down, close together. Perhaps there is an orb of pale light very low in the sky but nobody notices because of the vertical lines everywhere, looming, black, concrete that have been pushing back against the sky as long as anyone can remember. Perhaps that is why the air is so thin, why the sky is forgotten... It has disappeared, finally giving up the struggle against the concrete and iron fences. Why are they built? Anyone might know but nobody seems to.
But she might.
She tries to find those who will listen, but those who are ready seem to be fewer and fewer as the months tread on. For some reason her room is the coldest in the house. She follows him, ignoring the bowed heads and wet leaves. He's so tired, she can feel it, but he's not gone yet. There is something, something. She saw it in his writings, a flicker, a glimpse, a small whisper...
She grabs the back of his coat and turns him around. They face each other and the grey sun sets.
Bells toll and it's time.
Walking along colorless wet leaves, clouds of carbon dioxide appear for a few moments around grey heads bowed down, close together. Perhaps there is an orb of pale light very low in the sky but nobody notices because of the vertical lines everywhere, looming, black, concrete that have been pushing back against the sky as long as anyone can remember. Perhaps that is why the air is so thin, why the sky is forgotten... It has disappeared, finally giving up the struggle against the concrete and iron fences. Why are they built? Anyone might know but nobody seems to.
But she might.
She tries to find those who will listen, but those who are ready seem to be fewer and fewer as the months tread on. For some reason her room is the coldest in the house. She follows him, ignoring the bowed heads and wet leaves. He's so tired, she can feel it, but he's not gone yet. There is something, something. She saw it in his writings, a flicker, a glimpse, a small whisper...
She grabs the back of his coat and turns him around. They face each other and the grey sun sets.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
When You Come Near To Me, I Go Away
Finally. It happened. I have waited for years. I dreamed of this moment. I mulled about what it would feel like when it came. I sang songs for the aether and wrote love poetry for the dead to inspire my desires.
And now it is done.
I'm not entirely sure what will happen to me now. I may not be as changed as I had hoped. The excitement may wear off and this will pass quietly into my memory, lost, as it were, like a brown leaf fallen in mid autumn within the deep forest.
I had found a knife on Thursday during my travels and ramblings in the city. Tonight I examined it lovingly while listening to When.
I knew it was sharp.
I did.
But that did not stop me from gently sliding it across my neck, softly, slowly. I feel into a trance as Vincent crooned. My deep desire rose like a growl from the profundity of my psyche and crescendoed into my arms and hands and fingers. My heart pounded and I knew this was the moment. I knew it was going to happen. My weak protest for self preservation, stifled by my stupor, was washed out like a tracing in the sand by a wave, completely overcome by the power of my sick desire. The knife pressed into my flesh. My heart soared and my joy was inexpressible.
And then I felt it.
For a split moment I denied what I had done, what I was feeling. It couldn't be true. It couldn't have happened but it was impossible to oppose the certainty of my now exposed nerve receptors.
I had never been so affected by pain before. The knife clattered to the floor and I rubbed by neck in shock and horror.
I don't want to be who you think I am. I did, but now... but now I'm only chilled, frightened like a child by lightening. When things are clear to me, I go away. I go away, I go away, I go away, I go away
Who the hell am I...
And now it is done.
I'm not entirely sure what will happen to me now. I may not be as changed as I had hoped. The excitement may wear off and this will pass quietly into my memory, lost, as it were, like a brown leaf fallen in mid autumn within the deep forest.
I had found a knife on Thursday during my travels and ramblings in the city. Tonight I examined it lovingly while listening to When.
I knew it was sharp.
I did.
But that did not stop me from gently sliding it across my neck, softly, slowly. I feel into a trance as Vincent crooned. My deep desire rose like a growl from the profundity of my psyche and crescendoed into my arms and hands and fingers. My heart pounded and I knew this was the moment. I knew it was going to happen. My weak protest for self preservation, stifled by my stupor, was washed out like a tracing in the sand by a wave, completely overcome by the power of my sick desire. The knife pressed into my flesh. My heart soared and my joy was inexpressible.
And then I felt it.
For a split moment I denied what I had done, what I was feeling. It couldn't be true. It couldn't have happened but it was impossible to oppose the certainty of my now exposed nerve receptors.
I had never been so affected by pain before. The knife clattered to the floor and I rubbed by neck in shock and horror.
"Let me softly caress you with my sword." Is what I told him, in a British accent, as I held his father's sword to his throat. The fear and confusion in his eyes was intoxicating. I had him in my power completely. His love for me had given him a shield of disbelief and gave him the delusion that I was only kidding, that we were only playing around but that shield quickly melted into a tattered veil as I persisted. I wish I could have seen the wild madness in my eyes that he must have beheld to frighten him so. Perhaps that is why I seduced myself, why I sat in front of a mirror as the pocket knife found itself at my throat. I coaxed it out, this madness and insanity for a brief moment and though it unnerves me, makes me panic almost, it also intrigues me...
I don't want to be who you think I am. I did, but now... but now I'm only chilled, frightened like a child by lightening. When things are clear to me, I go away. I go away, I go away, I go away, I go away
Who the hell am I...
Sunday, November 8, 2009
I'm Without You New Life
Yellow spider, yellow leaf
Yellow spider, yellow leaf
Confirms my deepest held beliefs
Orange spider, orange leaf
Orange spider, orange leaf
Confirms my deepest held beliefs
Brownish spider, brownish leaf
Brownish spider, brownish leaf
Confirms my deepest held beliefs
No more spider, no more leaf
No more spider, no more leaf
No more me, no more belief
My heart doesn't keep time like it used to.
Yellow spider, yellow leaf
Confirms my deepest held beliefs
Orange spider, orange leaf
Orange spider, orange leaf
Confirms my deepest held beliefs
Brownish spider, brownish leaf
Brownish spider, brownish leaf
Confirms my deepest held beliefs
No more spider, no more leaf
No more spider, no more leaf
No more me, no more belief
My heart doesn't keep time like it used to.
I Went. I Went To See Our Dark Horse
I took some pictures with a disposable and green camera I found on a bus en route to Salt Lake City on Thursday. Some pictures I took, some pictures I didn't. They don't mean anything except that they mean anything.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Hell Is Chrome
And then I can hardly contain my excitement. My arms tingle and I get lost. I'm gone, I'm gone, I'm gone. I am on the brink of understanding, the coveted knowledge of ages is on the tip of my tongue but if I remember, but if I think, I fear it will be gone in an instant like a bubble in my in my peripherals that will pop if I look directly at it.
The world melts, becomes heavily texturized... a third dimension of a flat painting.
A ghost is born.
The world melts, becomes heavily texturized... a third dimension of a flat painting.
A ghost is born.
THE GHOST, THE GHOST, THE GHOST
One Second Bridge
Hannu
A Ghost Is Born
Also, best new music I've found since Boards: The Gentleman Losers
Hannu
A Ghost Is Born
Also, best new music I've found since Boards: The Gentleman Losers
Sunday, November 1, 2009
D.I.D.
October's done and so at last, I find I am myself again. For my week long commemoration of my favourite holiday, I suffered from an overtaking of multiple personalities:
October the 24th
Early this morning, around 4 a.m., I started as Hopelessly Sanguine. It was a rather unexpected beginning, truth be told. As a happy optimistic, part of my character is rather bold in a shy way. She does things that I consider carefully because I am afraid to do them and she executes these things with ease and without thought. So when I found that I had been deliberating for at least an hour as to whether I should make contact with [5] (I was actually less afraid in this situation and more anxious that said contact and I would meet during my experimental week) Hopelessly Sanguine took over and told me that I wanted to do it and I shouldn't spend so much time worrying.
Besides that, nothing else worth noting. I find, except for the above incident, I am fairly similar to her. She is a bigger part of me than I want to admit. I've always assumed my optimism, but it is unsettling how comfortable I am in the skin of the annoyingly happy girl who smiles all the time because she is excited about life and is so happy to see you again! and when she says it, you feel like she means it...
I'm fairly certain that tomorrow I'll be changing.
October the 25th
Today today today. Today I am Winter. I really like this character so far. I feel important. She is cold and lovely, icily (ah that word looks so beautiful in writing) regarding her peers and knowing she is better. No body likes her very much.
Today in church Winter only went to sacrament meeting, saying, of course, that that is all she needs. She didn't speak to anyone, only curtly nodded her head to the poor chap who opened the door for her. Normally when I skip meetings I go upstairs with the excuse of using the bathroom on the tip of my tongue if by chance someone asks where I am going, and I go down another set of stairs and sneak out the side door. But not today! Winter haughtily walked straight out the front door, in plain view of anyone who cared to look.
I daresay I am quite capable of marvelous works when I put my mind to it.
Today I wore my white silk dress with a light blue cardigan. No makeup except for a pale pink stain on my lips. I must say that the winter look suits me marvelously well.
October the 26th
I decided that I was to change today. I was going to be Winter again but I think I only want to have an excuse to act as though I am better than everyone. It was deliciously evil but would have profited me nothing. So, today I am The Swine. I was very nervous to awaken this character... She is so many things that I don't want to be. All the other characters are part of my nature but I picked The Swine because I wanted to be someone that I absolutely am not. The Swine is loud, bossy though sometimes she is funny but only in fairly stupid ways.
Today I found The Swine laughing loudly at everything. I could barely stand it. In class today she talked to a girl I hadn't ever spoken to and was making up anecdotes and working hard to keep conversation in her power and on her terms. It was exhausting.
Maybe I am more quiet and more reserved than I like to think... I think this is a character I have to play again.
October the 27th
Last night I resolved to be The Swine again. That was before [5] decided it was time. In real life. Today.
Later
The first encounter wasn't terrible. The Swine laughed too often, too loud but otherwise she didn't act as bad as I feared. Round two wasn't I wasn't nearly as lucky. As was the case yesterday, The Swine did her best to completely take over conversation. And finally, The Swine brought all together and, as though knowing her time was almost over, everything culminated in a hideous show of exaggerated gestures, flapping jaw and half closed eyes in a cacophony of hyena laughter and snorts.
If I stay any longer with this character, I'm fairly certain I will, single-handedly, turn my life from a poorly written paperback to a hundred thousand shredded pieces of paper floating on the wind over the great abyss of lost loves.
October the 28th
Still recovering from the embarrassments of The Swine, I limped into my character of today: The Lost Horse Mistress. She is the epitome of my romanticism: beautiful, sad, highly intelligent and lonely. She lived in the 1890's in the English countryside, taking tea with her best friend Charles every Thursday. She loved horses almost as much as she loved literature and Chopin. As her love for Charles grew, his infatuation with another blossomed and The Horse Mistress found that the only time she could find peace was when she rode, when she rode wildly, passionately, blindly. She and the horse became a continuous fluid movement, the wind in her ears silencing thoughts of her only love, the continuity of motion dulling her tumultuous emotions.
But she could not ignore her passions forever. They started to eat at her, their fire consuming her from the inside out. She became sickly and feverish and her good-natured temperament soured. Last to deteriorate was her mind. At her death she did not remember where she was or who she was but she remembered that she had loved and she remembered that she had been happy and that she might be so again.
October the 29th
Persuaded by The Lost Horse Mistress, we went to Nosferatu, somewhat satiating our mutual desire for, well, desire. There is something beautifully sad about watching alone others lust for each other.
And to be beautifully sad is entirely what we wanted tonight.
October the 30th
I am sad to see The Lost Horse Mistress go, but I think that being her much longer would have taxed my emotions heavily. Though I would like to say a word on her style, which was impeccable, to say the least. Victorian shoes in leather and suede with gray trouser socks underneath cuffed trousers in a course greyish brown cotton with a vintage cream and ruffled shirt and a maroon sweater jacket. With her hair pulled in the late 19th century fashion and a feather decal for effect. Her makeup was a soft brown on the eyes with a deep blood red on the lips with a smudge of brown in the hollows of the cheeks.
Anyway...
Today I am going to be Jessie. She was my best friend and I look up to her even now. She was many things I was too afraid to be. Jessie is very witty, logical, sarcastic, and is different because she is not because she wants to be. She isn't exactly shy, but she doesn't like talking to people. She is somewhere between Margot Tennebaum and Daria. It is quite stunning how different I feel while being Jessie, who hasn't an ounce of romantics as compared to the whirlwind of passion with The Horse Mistress. I feel quietly confident today as I walked with my eyes on the pavement. Today was the only day I did any homework all week.
I wore jeans with a brown trenchcoat, white sneaker boots and black eyeliner reminiscent of junior high.
October the 31st
It has been an exhausting week. Today I am myself to be the antithesis of being someone else on this lovely holiday. I feel incredibly boring.
I should write something epic, something telling of everything I've learned, something clever about how I may be changed, something poignant of how I may have ruined a would-be good relation because of my experiments.
But I'm not going to.
Having one more day to sit in my own skin again, I will say that I have learned much about myself, much of which I didn't want to know. I have been other people and tried to come up with something meaningful because of it. I suppose I could end by saying something like, "Being me is the best." or "Nothing is as good as being yourself." or "I'm not afraid to be me!" or something similar that we have all heard from disillusioned adults and children's TV programs.
But it would be flagrantly untrue.
Because being satisfied completely with who I am means that I have given up.
Hopelessly Sanguine, Winter, The Swine, The Lost Horse Mistress and Jessie
- I tell no one until the test is done.
- I can break character only in my writings.
- I can be each character as long as I feel is necessary.
- I must write daily of my experience.
October the 24th
Early this morning, around 4 a.m., I started as Hopelessly Sanguine. It was a rather unexpected beginning, truth be told. As a happy optimistic, part of my character is rather bold in a shy way. She does things that I consider carefully because I am afraid to do them and she executes these things with ease and without thought. So when I found that I had been deliberating for at least an hour as to whether I should make contact with [5] (I was actually less afraid in this situation and more anxious that said contact and I would meet during my experimental week) Hopelessly Sanguine took over and told me that I wanted to do it and I shouldn't spend so much time worrying.
Besides that, nothing else worth noting. I find, except for the above incident, I am fairly similar to her. She is a bigger part of me than I want to admit. I've always assumed my optimism, but it is unsettling how comfortable I am in the skin of the annoyingly happy girl who smiles all the time because she is excited about life and is so happy to see you again! and when she says it, you feel like she means it...
I'm fairly certain that tomorrow I'll be changing.
October the 25th
Today today today. Today I am Winter. I really like this character so far. I feel important. She is cold and lovely, icily (ah that word looks so beautiful in writing) regarding her peers and knowing she is better. No body likes her very much.
Today in church Winter only went to sacrament meeting, saying, of course, that that is all she needs. She didn't speak to anyone, only curtly nodded her head to the poor chap who opened the door for her. Normally when I skip meetings I go upstairs with the excuse of using the bathroom on the tip of my tongue if by chance someone asks where I am going, and I go down another set of stairs and sneak out the side door. But not today! Winter haughtily walked straight out the front door, in plain view of anyone who cared to look.
I daresay I am quite capable of marvelous works when I put my mind to it.
Today I wore my white silk dress with a light blue cardigan. No makeup except for a pale pink stain on my lips. I must say that the winter look suits me marvelously well.
October the 26th
I decided that I was to change today. I was going to be Winter again but I think I only want to have an excuse to act as though I am better than everyone. It was deliciously evil but would have profited me nothing. So, today I am The Swine. I was very nervous to awaken this character... She is so many things that I don't want to be. All the other characters are part of my nature but I picked The Swine because I wanted to be someone that I absolutely am not. The Swine is loud, bossy though sometimes she is funny but only in fairly stupid ways.
Today I found The Swine laughing loudly at everything. I could barely stand it. In class today she talked to a girl I hadn't ever spoken to and was making up anecdotes and working hard to keep conversation in her power and on her terms. It was exhausting.
Maybe I am more quiet and more reserved than I like to think... I think this is a character I have to play again.
October the 27th
Last night I resolved to be The Swine again. That was before [5] decided it was time. In real life. Today.
Later
The first encounter wasn't terrible. The Swine laughed too often, too loud but otherwise she didn't act as bad as I feared. Round two wasn't I wasn't nearly as lucky. As was the case yesterday, The Swine did her best to completely take over conversation. And finally, The Swine brought all together and, as though knowing her time was almost over, everything culminated in a hideous show of exaggerated gestures, flapping jaw and half closed eyes in a cacophony of hyena laughter and snorts.
If I stay any longer with this character, I'm fairly certain I will, single-handedly, turn my life from a poorly written paperback to a hundred thousand shredded pieces of paper floating on the wind over the great abyss of lost loves.
October the 28th
Still recovering from the embarrassments of The Swine, I limped into my character of today: The Lost Horse Mistress. She is the epitome of my romanticism: beautiful, sad, highly intelligent and lonely. She lived in the 1890's in the English countryside, taking tea with her best friend Charles every Thursday. She loved horses almost as much as she loved literature and Chopin. As her love for Charles grew, his infatuation with another blossomed and The Horse Mistress found that the only time she could find peace was when she rode, when she rode wildly, passionately, blindly. She and the horse became a continuous fluid movement, the wind in her ears silencing thoughts of her only love, the continuity of motion dulling her tumultuous emotions.
But she could not ignore her passions forever. They started to eat at her, their fire consuming her from the inside out. She became sickly and feverish and her good-natured temperament soured. Last to deteriorate was her mind. At her death she did not remember where she was or who she was but she remembered that she had loved and she remembered that she had been happy and that she might be so again.
October the 29th
Persuaded by The Lost Horse Mistress, we went to Nosferatu, somewhat satiating our mutual desire for, well, desire. There is something beautifully sad about watching alone others lust for each other.
And to be beautifully sad is entirely what we wanted tonight.
October the 30th
I am sad to see The Lost Horse Mistress go, but I think that being her much longer would have taxed my emotions heavily. Though I would like to say a word on her style, which was impeccable, to say the least. Victorian shoes in leather and suede with gray trouser socks underneath cuffed trousers in a course greyish brown cotton with a vintage cream and ruffled shirt and a maroon sweater jacket. With her hair pulled in the late 19th century fashion and a feather decal for effect. Her makeup was a soft brown on the eyes with a deep blood red on the lips with a smudge of brown in the hollows of the cheeks.
Anyway...
Today I am going to be Jessie. She was my best friend and I look up to her even now. She was many things I was too afraid to be. Jessie is very witty, logical, sarcastic, and is different because she is not because she wants to be. She isn't exactly shy, but she doesn't like talking to people. She is somewhere between Margot Tennebaum and Daria. It is quite stunning how different I feel while being Jessie, who hasn't an ounce of romantics as compared to the whirlwind of passion with The Horse Mistress. I feel quietly confident today as I walked with my eyes on the pavement. Today was the only day I did any homework all week.
I wore jeans with a brown trenchcoat, white sneaker boots and black eyeliner reminiscent of junior high.
October the 31st
It has been an exhausting week. Today I am myself to be the antithesis of being someone else on this lovely holiday. I feel incredibly boring.
I should write something epic, something telling of everything I've learned, something clever about how I may be changed, something poignant of how I may have ruined a would-be good relation because of my experiments.
But I'm not going to.
Having one more day to sit in my own skin again, I will say that I have learned much about myself, much of which I didn't want to know. I have been other people and tried to come up with something meaningful because of it. I suppose I could end by saying something like, "Being me is the best." or "Nothing is as good as being yourself." or "I'm not afraid to be me!" or something similar that we have all heard from disillusioned adults and children's TV programs.
But it would be flagrantly untrue.
Because being satisfied completely with who I am means that I have given up.
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