^Picture unrelated
Just going to throw this out there, but Kovo is the best month so far (word-wise).
I wanted to start my blog today with the concept of hatred. Only a few nights ago, I was introduced to it in it's purest form. The form that goes beyond my understanding. Maybe it's because I'm not them, I wasn't there to know, and I'm not there to understand now. What I do know is that I see hatred in it's purest, simplest, and most evil form inside a family. You cannot deny your connection. When families cast away a child, that is truly hatred. When someone can completely give upon the possible bonhomie of a person, there is break-up. Although, it is entertaining to see. Not in the way of fun and games, but to understand the calumny of a person through bias eyes. And who knows if the person who is remembered is a canard or the same person who bilks people. It's not for me to determine now, but in a few months I will determine the chicanery truth.
"Kiss Me Through the Phone" Parody-"Making Love to Tissues"
"Celery"
A teenage girl is always capricious. Her life is a system of well-oiled ups and downs that slip and slide together causing an array of disastrous events. The worst part is that there is no augury to tell where her life will lead (whether horror or prosper); no one knows until they are there. I love the aspect of family here. Because now I get it, why parents don't take kids seriously. I look back on myself. When I thought I was so "in love." I believed that I possessed cogent argument at fourteen. It's just ridiculous. What I took as disrespect then now is simple circumspect. Oh, how contumacious I was then, believing I could fight my innocence. Yet, by doing that, I allowed my naive-ness to burgeon. It was an infinite declivity that I lead myself on. "Parents Just Don't Understand"
^I would like to relate this picture to me. Solemn black cat. Friendless. Heartless. Alone. But does he care? Never. He's a stone cold loner.
The concept of self-respect is a catholic one. That the human body is something that needs to be cosseted. It's not just a moral issue, but becomes and ethical one when it comes to assisted suicide. I would say it were a strange concept, but I know where they stand. The coterie who can sit in a circle and play their game at fate because they have nothing to lose. To them, there is no way to assuage the situation of life.
The pain they experience can only be lightened by pain of another nature. It's nothing deleterious to them because once it starts, it's like an addiction. The cupidity of it is so powerful. I would sit on my hands and cry, begging myself to be disabused from my past. Only one girl broke my harmful and destructive ways. My diffidence kept me from going forward, or being anything diurnal. Love-
To end in my melancholy way, I'd like to quote Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and explain my feelings. "He already had one or two little wives...a pretty little girl of five years of age." My immediate response was to convince myself not to cry, although I may tonight. Why is it that no matter how much I move forward, change, accept, and cope, it's the little things that plunge into my heart and stop the beating? I'm trying to corroborate my point, but it would reveal too much, And as I don't describe, I get further and further from my intent at all making a desultory paragraph in the end. In the end, the best thing to say is that there's a reason I don't keep best guy friends.
'Divined by goddess wisdom,
time follows between the wisps and cracks of parallelism and space.
A distaff has the longing arms,
but diaphanous blank leaves light to blind.
The rain patters in the window
washing away the sins of filibuster and dilatory senators.'
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