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Harassing WASP Daughters before/after More of one of my old journals. And this is the front page of this particular journal. Across the top, scrawled manically in the rising grip of yet another acid frenzy, written awhile after starting the fucker: Everything I say is beautiful or true because the existance of one often precludes the other. Below that is a verse I didn't feel comfortable writing, but I did anyway, and it started, this drugged out diary. Stoned from the start on grass and then a short bit written looking out at the water at one of my favorite haunts: There is no place I can go to escape the anxieties in my head I'm a master of my world but my world is cold and dead A king of inner space A king of inner space
My thoughts wander droll as the water laps at my feet. Two girls walk their bikes by. I can tell they're high-schoolers by the way they giggle. They try to engage my attention in various ways. Talking loud, about nothing, they wander by. Should I say something? "Hey baby, lets get ridiculously high, go back to my car there, and behave like animals in a cheap motel room while yer' ugly friend watches." No. It would do no good. Slightly amusing, as far as being slapped with a lawsuit by four angry WASP parents is amusing. Jesus, they'd sic some rabid pit-bull of a lawyer on me, who'd chew out my jugular with the ravening ferocity of a starved vampire. I could just see it: "Argentumville man, 20, sent to electric chair for 4th degree sexual harassment...neighbors not amused." Harassing WASP daughters is no good. Unless you snag them.
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