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maison book girl chic

soon upon a someday better sooner, i'll be seizing my escape from here and stay stuck on swallowing my dizzying pills to keep my brain matter from seizing into itself . earlier this morning, i made my way to see one of my other therapists i see every few weeks, blaring kendrick lamar out of spotify from my hatchback as i drive like an asshole, and found a little shelter in the sunshine breaths in some solace for who i am for all the wrong and right reasons: how i look, how i'm dressed, my hairstyle, but most significantly a smothering sensation that i may be worth something after all. if only for today. i'm a true believer in patterns over coincidences and found that for the little i'll wing my way among the big blue world, there will be others who will count on me for the sort of things i'm pursuing on my own, such as filmmaking, writing and rewriting, theater, but more often than not, i'll be asked if i could be shown or show up to this or that to help put in my creative direction. i mean if i'm being politely asked by way more souls than ever expected to help direct their own art projects under every prettied parasol, for the very little i'm ever known to be around, it may just mean i have something worthwhile in my very being. i've earned my reputation many times over for being rare to see anywhere unless invited and incessantly asked and i can safely say that here if nowhere else. it's flattering beyond the anxiousness that befalls me each and every time when picked to participate to strut a modestly fashionable appearance to somewhere in some way hiding under my high-priced hoodie sunken under a state of permission to tell strangers on a set or stage or shoot what they should do and how they should do it. ワンダーワード、言葉の奇跡 o(`・ω・´)○ ヤー!!

i've spent more time in san francisco by myself than ever before (shhh...) but it probably won't be a thing anymore. i've already let a handful of new special others and acquaintances know that i'm preoccupied with issues far from my control but will be around online or whatever to help, consult, review, direct, and give advice if they need it. even then, my reputation for shyness is earned many times over and i'm not one to be excited to show up in my usual red-and-black adidas zip-up masked in my all-hours dior sunglasses to wade the waters of the san francisco cold for the sole purpose of pretending i'm special. i play an artist as an artist where i don't belong which would be the whole wide bay area. i'm used to being nobody and by pure and sure coincidence, i'm seeing that mr. nobody screening @ the roxie in a little bit from now (shhh...). if and when i ever put a 'going' or 'interested' for whatever event in the city, i'm bothered about being accompanied when i posted clear and quiet i'm content to be alone as always, and i have to kinda sorta lie and leave it vague... but take the fucking hint. i told rena a little bit about one situation with someone and she perfectly put it during her morning marathon replying to everything i typed to her in skype: "but the thing with that girl/couple seems weird. kindness is always welcome but i can't help but be skeptical she wants some sister wife bullshit with you as their missing link. you know, butter you up real nice and take care of you so the husband can fulfill his homoerotic fantasies safely, or whatever the fuck." nailed it. i'm not someone's twink fantasy and that's exactly what i was being softened up to be only because i am who i am with my fragrant physical, emotional, personality, and sexual attributes. nope, this dick ain't free ♪ ゛(´д`*)゛~♪~♪ フンフン no, really, as i left to tell to rena, i've probably elaborated my virginal vow of sexless mourning to love and fuck no one else who never held my heart before i fell frail for my last lolita. i'm lost but i belong (for now). if i believed in anything beyond my whole broken being to be pure: I COULD FUCK. CALI. FORNIA.

in too many ways that wouldn't matter as it never did before. i am all dressed up unassumingly in a sexpot revenge knit, T.U.K b/w platform sneakers, louis vuitton skinny jeans from vestiaire collective, and my pale flesh left to love, live, and leave in longing disguised in cigarette smoke and my melodic valley vowels sung and sewn so shyly strung. i'm there with nobody as nobody to see a screening of mr. nobody. it's about that time during san francisco rush hour but the film screening doesn't show until 9PM. there are little hours left to lament living in softened gushes felt in my crotch as if molly was in my life licking the insides of my lips again, to live and explore on my own as if i was a virginal youth in hollywood once more, but i'm spending the meantime marveling at robert eggers' screenplay for the vvitch which was one of the finest films i adored so much the year before (that awful year of everything). there are very few films that genuinely frightened me in a familiar licorice flavor of any given nightmare i'm forced to recall and it was surely one of those; the screenplay he wrote is a meaningful inspiration in the way it's written, formatted, and simply poured of confident ideas and expression. i can't help but feel i can do so much more with my own work upon reading more and more of it having learned to really dig the film itself (that he directed as a first-timer!). i genuinely mean it and my work in final draft shows it. he is everything i wish i could be, honestly, although i doubt i have it in me to lead a production and direct a screenplay of my own. it would take a collaborative spirit and gifted sense of confidence from admirable figures in the industry and art to reassure me that i could let live my lavish burden of perfectionism and creative pitch i'd force on everyone under me. the rest of everybody knows the unforgiving way i go about needing everything the way it needs to be and take pride in carefully sucking my own lips while watching the camera lens before interrupting to reshoot. nothing new. that's how you work. they have to do it one more time, forever, until they get it the right way, and it takes of abstract thinking and faking confidence like any fuck to truly convey to others the way it needs to appear - but more importantly - what it evokes to others. that's a little more tricky but i got it. i've always had it in one way or another.

gonna take off from now to treat myself to a floral milk tea from a particular parlor on valencia before parking my car near the roxie. i'll be back before i know it like nothing happened and let nobody else know i ran away to the city where i could've been found but eluded all of them on my own. i'm only alive for my best beloveds like rena and forever lost loves ever after. i won't be going home with anyone else and i never plan to sleep next to anyone else ever again. that's the vow i took to love and know nothing more. that's the sort of purity i've sought and kept as redemption for my soul as if in recreation. if it took resisting a perfect little dark-haired princess in glasses at a secret drug party at the san francisco museum of modern art, i would keep my boy parts covered and my soul smothered and remember who kept me company in my animal crossing village when i was a bay area runaway, teenage sad boy on the internet, or lonely rave kid left lost to be found. i remember love and who i was when i found it. off i go now, wish me luck, and i'll find where i belong on the net when i come back by dancing between the raindrops. i'm clingin' to love through one last vein. on a famous avenue you'll find me with a cigarette placed between my lips, lifting my slithering shirts to reveal my skinny hips, and i'll be loved again when the planets collide and know one last breath from one more lunar eclipse.

i'll see you in another life in the city when we're both cats o(^・x・^)o モモ ミャァ♪

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