othelladub's Diaryland Diary


we will try

Setting the line height

Sea Foam Green is in Fashion

ER is a cool show.

I need to purchase a beanie of some sort. A beanie would replenish my soul, bring me inner harmony and light.

I love it when a girl laughs. Not a callous laugh, or a laugh of disgust, but a hearty, not-caring-what-anyone-thinks, soulful laugh.

Those kinds of laughs make me think about marriage.

A good-spirited person, with a deft sleight-of-hand, punishing legs, and pins for eyes.

A happy, warm person with a sharp mind and a soft tongue.

A sharp tongue and a soft embrace.

Allowing myself to be enveloped in these contradictions, there is a certain freedom.

Embracing freedom with the recognition that we are chained. Time, circumstance, loyalty, and love dictate certain circumstances. So too, do selfishness, prejudice, fear, and misplaced hostility.

Lust, envy, and a desire to appropriate that which is not innate negates our fluidity and originality.

This sarcophagus is self-created, but the freedom cannot be. What hubris, to think that we do not need help!

And who helps you? And what is help?

Are we best served as vampires, draining each others resources?

Is that even a viable option? It does not work. You are what you are.

Improvement is a design created by one who has a structure or form which exists originally - thus having something to improve upon.

When an entire oevre is based upon theft and vampirism, there is no clear form designed, or credit due to the vampire. It is a hollow credit, owing more to flash and pomp-by-association, than to any real grit or core.

Are we so weak that we cannot form imprints ourselves?

Can't we inspire each other without thievery?


Do we gain anything by sucking from each other. Sucking, sucking, sucking.

This is all a facade, with no core structure.

You have no core, no integrity, if you simply aim to imitate. Your theft will not be complete - and the translation will suffer. You cannot hope to have the spine of inspiration, the strokes and sparks of lustful design, if you attempt merely to sap from that grand tree.

What vagaries do we commit, by buying into this star-eyed fantasy of cold blackness?

It is a black bile air, and I will not breathe.


Let us feel a warmth; a pure intoxication of depth. Let us feel each other, in all our disparity. Let us embrace our differences, and taste each other fully. No sex can be as good as this.

Confront your weakness, embrace your deficiencies. Without looking at it, you gouge out your eyes until it is too late. And it is hard to see the light.

But we will try.

We will try.

11:20 p.m. - 2002-09-09


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