Saturday, March 15, 2014

I'm disappointed in the taste.

Who am I to want something?

"I'm disappointed in the taste?"

So someone will just be summoned by the ring of a bell, and D will get a new cup of coffee. And he will pay them with a smile, and they will see him posing moodily by the glass door, on his boxers.

But that was me in another life. The scared boy, the humble servant. Offering up the item that was desired and of higher value than my own person. And then running away, backing away.

And somehow my special spark, the music talent, got plucked out of obscurity. There are a million other boys with cute smiles that this may have happened to, but it was me.

The cameras will convince you that you are a god. A minor deity. But experience will teach you otherwise. You will find yourself, again and again. In talented guitarists, in shy, beautiful boys, in funny sour loners. Why wasn't it them,

I still have to remind myself that I am the
Rock God. Or at least playing the role.

She, poor girl, she is caught up in the depression too. A sense of general worthlessness, compounded by the feeling of not being effective in the world.

I understand how to emerge from my own, but not to help her out of hers.



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