Wednesday, 4 November 2015

So Grateful for This Sinner

It was your taste in music.
But really, I think comfort is important (does that make me a hedonist, or a coward?).
I read somewhere once that the worst thing a person can do is outstay their welcome. I've been a lot of things, but I never want to be a chore.
I live the impersonal everyday, I work in an office. I yearn for the personal (do you ever yearn D?).
I could continue with some half-hearted musings for you to assimilate, or mock, or do whatever with, but it would be passionless and eventually I'd just be giving you what I think you want, and it would be increasingly abstract (I hate abstract, I think its cheap) and try hard, and not me. Eventually.

I can and will do that. If anything, this is giving me an outlet that I currently lack. But I won't promise quality, you'll have to take what you get. And I don't want some impersonal response, a sham repertoire, my words would just be rhetorical. Catharsis. You either don't respond at all, or respond with just an acknowledgement that you received my mail. That's my offer.

The cashier with the pretty mouth began making small talk with me. She had nice nails (I always notice nails), the colour was a gray/purple (I asked her what she thought it was, she said gray. I thought purple). I should probably find a new grocery store, or a new cashier. I say this, but I will go into her queue, despite how long it is.

"Patience and indignity are a cheap price to put on feeling something (anything) no matter how fleeting it is."

hashtag: summer reruns

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