It's always a
treat to encounter another
extant being replete with aching pulses of
mind,
heart, and
soul. So much of such one's
typical encounter requires that one to diminish their own burst of
self to some narrowly
acceptable realm of
impervious platitude and
pointless non
interaction. Often, I think to myself, "how stupid must I stoop for these
irrelevant nobodies of
trite safety?"
Truth has only a few friends, and those are mostly
suicides.
There is very little in life I actually seem to care about. I'm pretty much an acerbic jerk for the most part, coining trademark aspersions such as, "I have more profundity in my little pinky than you could muster in an entire whelm of soul," for the occasion of most human
contact. I hold myself in actual life mostly snidely aloof, bitterly pissed, unamused by the moron musical number in progress around me. Yet, there comes on occasion a cadence, some reconciling sense of sound and movement beyond the mundane pettiness of everyday life, some fluid feeling of connection other than empty echo ... and it is then that I dare to come uneasily alive in total vulnerable self.