Blood Musk

2005-06-29 - 6:29 p.m.

I moved into a new house. My bedroom is small, and my closet is small. I think that I will like it- I was going to say because it reminds me of the attic that was my room as a child at home, and I just said it. But lately I feel wrong in the way I venerate my childhood and preteen existence. It's so holy to me, I can cry when I tell myself that I will never live in that way again.
It's might the reason I feel isolated.
And I am a little Humbert Humbert in my love afflictions. Not to say I want a child, but my more painful attractions are directed towards people who fill the shoe of the stilted relationship that formed me most. It's keeping me retarded, to the point that a soul patch becomes a reasonably attractive facial hair design.
I had a dream on the break-room couch this afternoon. My grandma was sitting above me in a chair, and she was glowing pretty garishly. She was giving me righteous advice, and beaming simply because I was listening to her. I am guilty of not listening to my Grandmother when she talks, and I will regret this even more once she's dead.
When I was walking to this library, one girl said to her friend "You would look so hot in her dress!" and pointed at me.

And I continue getting uglier and fancier.