Wednesday, February 1, 2012

page 120

convention suggest that I also must comment on one of your notes thus the debts and balances of social obligation are exchanged praise becomes a commodity that is exchanged between members of a social group jane is concerned with the process of presenting self the interpretations of other’s reactions either positive or negative bringing either pleasure or pain the basic features of our selves the man with a gun she keeps saying this time will be different why was it a man with a gun could it have been a woman with a gun maybe a woman with a bomb she has it strapped around her body she is walking into the police station she is singing the battle hymn of the republic when she throws the switch and boom she is gone we gather outside among the rubble and talk of possibilities that are no more we talk of how our naive conceptions of peace and safety have now been destroyed the bonds between self and others can justify actions on the grounds of custom love hate jealousy or respect each person’s involvement in the conversation can be charted by utterances lodging a portion of the self into the other we have made investments in each other we throw things together at the last minute and our understanding are incomplete yet we work out some semblance of an agreement so that I can put my pecker inside you I am amazed by your beauty you are such a lovely creature you make me honesty aware of my desire to make love to you I want to be the source of your joy we do not remain unchanged to the end I change you and you change me together we leave your bed as different beings our sharing of each other’s flesh has changed us forever we are now a part of each other we are willing participants who agree about the rules and the regulations of our exchange we are wound together in each other’s image of self we are negotiating our definitions of selves if our perceptions of self become different viewpoints contradictory viewpoints than this is how we fall apart how we fall out of love I have seen it happen in my life so many times too many times I have all the scars on my heart to show you how love has broken and torn me into pieces yet I am still here I have still survived and I am still seeking for another soul to share myself with something to land against moving her over just a little bit to get a better angle adjusting the buckles and the straps she still seems pretty stable I haven't made her too off center yet I was pushing her pretty good her skin felt chilly cold to the touch the dogs didn't run her off she was full of determination I offered her a blanket a warm cup of tea her finger is a little sore she bent it back doing a handstand she wants me to change the color of her font a new nozzle for my hose when you crank on it the spray changes I pull it out and spray it on her back a nice warm spurt the disheveled one going back and forth going back and forth a good strong wind a big fucking crash she is chomping it all down she crushes it down there is the head once buried in three feet of dirt and debris she can be used for all kings of things she ended up being the girl and then she didn't want to be the girl so she left it was 2:00 in the afternoon and she asked me to lay down with her for a nap there is a certain thickness that you can't break keeping her as pure as possible she is allergic to the hot wax next to her existential angst she is talking about having her cake and eating she is a situation that demands a new interpretation I have

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