Wednesday, September 22, 2004

to the ones that stop by, from the rat that packs (a piece of cheese, please).

you are more expendable than the gifts you give me. when you leave, either by choice or my force, all your pieces of crap will still live delicately with me. there is a bit of preciousness even in the ordinary from tiffany's, neoprene carnival prizes and half eaten boxes of bad ice cream chocolates. if it was given to me, it's got a place in my home, and it'll never be alone.
my room isn't cute. it's got a potpourri of ugly things. because i'll never put something out of sight; i believe in equality among my obsession with shitty refuse.
BUT. if YOU want to stay, you know, stick around with your givings, you'll have to do way better than just NOT gifting me a mesh ring from tiffany's, or a nylon prada bag. you'd have to give me the gift of taking, and get what the fuck i'm saying. you'd have to finish my sentences on occasion, and sync your laughter with mine. you'd have to find the differences between the 3000 looks i give and create ones for adequate response. you'd have to make me laugh, and never make me fake it. you'd have to be as smart as me, but never let me know it. you'd have to understand that LTD is a passion, not a vice (a way of should always aim for the most special of things). you'd have to never criticize where i'm from, even when i may do it. you'd have to let me be an asshole, when i feel like it. you'd have to know that typical lies even in the choice of flowers, and that you should always choose peonies over roses.
and if you can make me smile every second til my face hurts, you can have my wrinkles with time.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

two seconds of oops.

i have this orchid plant.
(given to me by a dear friend for my birthday) i am not good to plants, but this plant is damn good to me.
i didn't water it for two months. i didn't talk to it. i didn't flatter it with looks of love. i didn't even notice it was there half the time. but it never budged a petal. it never browned. it never wilted regardless of the fact that i didn't even bother to make sure it had sunlight. it lived like it was spiting me. and THAT i noticed. i was impressed. jealous, even. it didn't need me. it didn't need anything. the will to live was thrilling enough. and as soon as i began to tell everyone about the monster plant, a flower fell. a 2 month bloom just up and crumbled. and there was the 2 second oops. almost a whisper.
but i'm not like that, see. i need to be taken care of. i need to be flattered. i need to be a constant bewilderment to mankind. i need to be 7 billion moments of fascination, not one less, not one more. or i'll die, you see? i'll just up and die. i need you to know that my boogers smell like rusty iron, that i am the most eloquent individual you'll ever meet, and neverending muse for cliches, new and old. i am one and only, i am genius because i come out and say i am. i am good. i am a compulsive liar, a flirt, a master of ugly facial expressions. I am srpy, slipptic and homemade, and dramatic: more queen and theatrics than a entire troupe could hope to be. but i am no orchid.
so take care of me.