Thursday, March 3, 2016

The Skin

These moments... they're agonizing and anesthetic.  Insidiously small but you walk away wondering where your tribe went and when you stopped seeking them.

Listening to coworkers riff on some television show called Rugrats (which is apparently something you should have known but never did) with fervor you wish was reserved for the things you love. The moment you figure out that the person you've been hanging out with casually is someone you might actually like and the fear that comes with it. The book you read for book club, The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis and how you realize how both disgusted you are by its contents as well as how much you ironically now see yourself and the caricatures in the interactions around you.  The impromptu happy hours and the uncomfortable realization you have nothing interesting to add anymore because the things you find interesting are glossed over (and rightfully so, they're all desirably younger).  This makes you want the interactions you had with your Exes, the ones you see or talk to every couple of weeks, and wonder why and how you didn't work.  Just like the characters in that damn Ellis novel but with more esoteric, metaphorical meaning/nonsense.  Or less, now that you think about it.  Or is it the Ellis logic wrapping itself surreptitiously into your mind?

The careful and solitary journey into hermitage.... or is it something else?

Maybe ennui is inevitable.  Maybe this is Ellis' point.  I can't say for sure.

This skin may not fit anymore but this song and others of its ilk continually do.
This, I can live with.

Chapterhouse // Come Heaven // Whirlpool // 1991

Beneath your skin, I'm swimming
In your eyes, I'm drowning
Days speed by, sleeping
Distant times come nearer and go

Into the sky, soaring

Come to me, heaven
Climbing high, melting
Distant times come nearer and go

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