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Eighties State of Mind before/after
I feel like driving around in the sunshine with the windows down and the moonroof open listening to Elvis.
"It's now or never...please hold me tight...kiss me, my darlin'...be mine tonight..."
I feel good. Little shorted on sleep, but my week has made up the balance.
"ah...Ah'm all shook up. oo-ooo-oo-oo-ooo-ahhh-yeahh-eaah-eaah."
Did not go out last night. Its a convergence of my decision to slow down, and an internal decision to withdraw that I've been fighting.
"If you can't come around...at least please telephone..."
I make the decision in my head, and my life follows. If I were more out of touch with myself, I'd still be wondering why I didn't go out.
"Bugsy turns to Henry and he says, 'Nix-Nx, I wanna' stick around while I'm gettin' my kicks'..."
Meta-cognition: Breakfast of Champions.
"Just take a walk down lo-nley street to ..."
On another note, I look good as hell. I'm dressed casually, but my workouts have been strong this week. My body may actually look better than it ever has before. I know I'm definitely stronger.
"Wise men say...only fools rush in...but I ...can't help...."
I know narcissism is bad, but haven't you ever looked so good that you wanted to call up ex-flames, and say something like, "Y'know, I know you thought I was attractive when we went out, but now? Damn. All I'm sayin' is: you want me. You want me fuckin' bad. Okay? That's all that I'm sayin'. If you saw me right now, you'd want me fuckin' bad."
"No, no, no, no, no, no bayy-bayy, I ain' t askin' much of you..."
Or, if they broke up with you, "Damn, you fucked up."
"...don't wanna' be your lion, cause lion's ain't the kind you...love enoo-uuugh. Just-a wanna- be..."
And then go somwhere, flirt like mad, and delude yourself into thinking a casual fling thing is what you want.
"I'll be yours...through all the years...until the...end of...tiiimmme."
I must say that I am disappointed in the flings I've had. Very unfulfilling, in every sense of the word. And then there is the hook-up, which seems downright mechanical. The other side of the sexual romance continuum. Maybe its just bad partners that cause me to think this.
And there's the rub. I am a romantic. A victim of false pre-conceived notions. I want to love and be loved. To know someone. And in this fast-food, pop-culture where art is looking suspiciously like fake life, a delusion instead of imitation homage', nobody has a romantic fuckin' bone in their body.
I'll go mad if we go back to an eighties state of mind.
"Never caught a rabbit, and you ain't no friend of mine."
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