Saturday, 17 January 2015

The Blunderbuss Angel Said The Union Is Forever 9

The rebellious of the soul knifes the soul.

The more homophobic country, the more blind it would be to pair up two men on a dancefloor, it won’t be gay, it will be seen as pure friendship even in the eyes of men, for just like the movie would state, the platonic is the most dangerous for it doesn’t have a direct confession, but it’s the liquid poison for the two or more, but never for those around. And that is how it would be, for those two. If we were to be reborn, if all were paired and me and Jamie had to be paired

If two are one soul, if the soul had been divided as such, then it doesn’t matter who tells the tale of depression until love consumes and both are brought together to the extend the human body can stretch, our misery has worn us

Because prior to the dance, there had been nothing to speak of because homophobic jokes aimed and thrashing trans people, which makes me wonder how many choose to reside with a trans person as beards, playing on society’s trans ignorance? How many of us hide under it? How many straight couples are actually gay in disguise? And he looks at me across the dancefloor, as my previous partner has been a disaster and he had come along, staring at me, my own sexuality had been stashed then and I wondered before we had been paired up to do the most ridiculous exercises before we would be reassured that we had a chance in the partner exchange to be with other fair ladies. 

“For if you’re able to think who you were, that’s enough to make a past, because we are our own keys to the past. Our shattered minds and loopholes if are not able to see the world clearly, it would be able to see what had been happening to us before we had existed now. Maybe it also holds the future, how the fuck do you even know?” Jamie would say, as we would head out, his own silence barely speaks for him anymore as once you dance, you know where to pin the person down and you can easily count their bones and where had it been broken by the weight of the world restrained above. I wondered if smoking would ease him, but too many things had been going through his mind, as we walked on as if we would know when the world would shattered and when people would live under war, bringing society to make sure that the explosions would never bother them, because with depression you forgive places easier and you wish they were never a target of destruction. You even forgive your own killer, because love had managed to be the cough syrup to your own agony.

Depression is eased by someone else’s depression, because when you’re the same substance you float, rather than sink. 

“I guess, that makes sense.” As he offers to get us both ice cream, as we stand in queue, muttering the crowd and the middle schoolers who think they have reached some age milestone, but we weren’t better at our own time. Some places remain with the same popularity and purpose and thought, perhaps since I had been taken here. We still listen to the same records we consider flawless. I don’t think we even mentioned changing partners, as we had changed roles in every dance we knew where we would know the moves better. That seemed to suffice.

My own mania seems to be pushing me forwards, not making me do anything, as we depart my own past catching up to erase it all, to remind me how it is to be alone and know that I have no number, only his sole word of seeing me the next week. 

We’re sold that we will always be in offices, where we will be spinning in our chairs but I even wonder how long would it even last until we all get fired or will it be solely because the ground will be taken away from us? Is it all we will see on television as my own mind feeds to remind me that he is some long lost lover and I wonder why am I even here to see the government feed me lies and people ignore facts which I even forget people denied in their own war interests.

I wonder how delusional am I, as I think of him, the next day I come back home and everything seems to be happening fast as I muse on getting a dog and I get nagged, that the girl which I had no interest in taking as my dance partner and lied that I would never go back, just not to have someone corner me again, stating that we should both be married at our age and the idea of her wanting me less as a dance partner seemed to intimidate me until I had called her that night before, stating that I didn’t want to see someone who had cornered me and demanded a reply, when I hadn’t even been able to even think anything of her. 

My own memories don’t build up my mind entirely and maybe mania does seem to be the ribbon which aids for me to be even interesting. 

The night fuels with the idea that one day, we will have all moves memorized instead of asking and observing other couples, just to do so without speaking and maybe then the platonic would be dangerous for both of us and maybe that’s when it would be sufficient, if I were to drink again at your stag party, just to recall both of us laughing until you would lie to me about everything that is happening, because love is more than a metaphor, it’s the desire for you to erase my memories and fill them with your dreams. 

I love selfishly too much to believe in anything else, those fools who state that you can let go, just don’t mention how much waiting we would all be.

A lot of stories intertwine with others, because the theme is always life or lack of it and what fills it to be moist. 


I find this story rather hard to update as frankly I have to be very depressed or apparently manic to write it xD that's why I'm pushing out this chapter after writing it yesterday:) 

I've had terrible insomnia and I had thought of my own dancing lessons back when I was in my mid-teens and it was because I had always wanted to frankly go and learn how to waltz and etc. I had this friend I was awfully close to and we had decided to go and she had a partner (ironically which is the only person whose association I had with the Russian version of Jamie, actually xD) which was her classmate, so I was left partnerless. I had this other guy who I was sort of friends with and we spent a few summers in the same errr hotel thing? Basically so I called him up because frankly no guy I asked wanted to be my partner and I did. Eventually the guy was a creep who cornered me for not texting him back, I think I stood him for two sessions and he was just really really creepy and I remember how scared I was to even see him again. Brrr. Anyway, so that was around the basis. I still love dancing and I guess my fondest memory, well, all of them are with Callie now, as we had done Scottish country dancing and we were awful at it, but then we caught up as we even crashed another prom to do it during one summer xD (well we had people we knew there and randomly entered for a few dances xD) so I dunno, I really enjoy that, so I wasn't falling asleep and I was thinking how a small sub-plot would be good for Blunderbuss Angel really, since it's such a frankly surreal and bizarre thing.

The only thing written was the first phrase, everything else was binge written:)

The setting was where I spent those mid-teens and looking back, I'm amused how everything is more tainted with "friends" and how many things were covered by such and still are. 

The platonic phrase was something which stuck to be as me and Callie had watched online the new Juliette Binoche movie with K. Stewart (I love Binoche so much gdjsgc) anyway, it was great and what killed the fact which could've got me from yelling why there was no PDA was the whole idea that platonic was worse and it just gave the whole movie a different light. It's a great and very very weird movie, so I recommend it. So it was just me thinking it through. And regarding this chapter, I just wanted it out frankly xD

I was in a state of mania, so I used it, I was shifting through views and I was in a state of I will fucking use my mania to make everything as surreal as possible, kind of going back to my teen roots where I would even drive myself to absolute depression to write stories, only now I was using my state rather than forcing it. Doors and Cure helped me a lot to write it, frankly xD and I realized how much Cure's Pornography is my favourite album of theirs. 

So it was all intended to make views shift and the whole point of one person (maybe also inspired by the movie hmmm, but not really I've been doing that since the beginning xD)

I actually wondered how many trans people are bearding around for society and happily and gay in their own house with their partner, because that is brilliant (ah, I give myself plots xD)

I've watched too much NGE you can see me thinking of the Instrumentality Project too much and connecting people, which I've also used in stories prior to watching NGE.

The depression quote and substance is about how I had found it easy to listen to The Cure again after years, since I was in an odd new state of mind, I'm not used to mania yet. So yeah, I'll start speaking of bipolar more often now:)

I wasn't sure if I should mention locations, you get sick of people holding Starbucks mugs sort of thing, so yeah.

I also described that place where I would be around, not necessarily after dancing, but it's a popular meeting spot. Actually me and Callie got kicked out of there for PDA when she visited me the first time xD

I freelance from home, so an office job sounds rather abstract to me now and I had wanted to imagine that for the story and how I guess for me it seems to be dying off, as I've lived on freelance for quite a while now and I'll be returning to uni so it's really bizarre:) 

The guy was used here as well, as you can see, only I changed genders, since we're trying to blatantly stick heteronormativity and I hadn't been out then or aware of everything regarding myself back then:)

Ending is me being angsty as usual and I dunno, I guess I'll end with today's thought, I get really bored if a story has no love line, so yup.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much for everything, all of you



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