Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2003-03-16 03:11 am
azurelunatic) wrote2003-03-16 03:11 am
Late-night thoughts
I harbor the strong impression that someone could make an interesting novel out of my life. In fact, I'm sometimes suspicious that I'm in it already.
Sometimes I hope for some of those really interesting coincidences that would make sense in only the smuttiest and most clichéd of romance novels. Stuck alone together unavoidably for an extended time. Wake up together somewhat hung-over and very, very naked. Abducted, for gods' sakes, by aliens.
Sometimes I am convinced that my life is one of those novels where the literary value lies in the simultaneous beauty and angst of the piece. Then I remember the pratfalls, and decide perhaps not...
Then I wonder if the only place I'm going to get the action I want, desire, crave, is in my dreams... ...It was closer, last night. I had him in my hand. I wonder if it's actually happening, in some weird parallel universe, or if it's only in my head, if it's all only just inside my head...
And I have to wonder why I don't really want him. I think I do, but if I really truly did, wouldn't he and I be together by now? But that assumes it's all about me. I find him the most delightful instance of the things I cannot predict in the universe. I know him so well, and yet I never know what he's going to do next... he's most delightful evidence that if solipsism is correct, I have truly multiple personalities, and we're playing a great game of it... many other people I can dismiss as figments of my imagination. I cannot do so with him.
Author? Smut, please...
Sometimes I hope for some of those really interesting coincidences that would make sense in only the smuttiest and most clichéd of romance novels. Stuck alone together unavoidably for an extended time. Wake up together somewhat hung-over and very, very naked. Abducted, for gods' sakes, by aliens.
Sometimes I am convinced that my life is one of those novels where the literary value lies in the simultaneous beauty and angst of the piece. Then I remember the pratfalls, and decide perhaps not...
Then I wonder if the only place I'm going to get the action I want, desire, crave, is in my dreams... ...It was closer, last night. I had him in my hand. I wonder if it's actually happening, in some weird parallel universe, or if it's only in my head, if it's all only just inside my head...
And I have to wonder why I don't really want him. I think I do, but if I really truly did, wouldn't he and I be together by now? But that assumes it's all about me. I find him the most delightful instance of the things I cannot predict in the universe. I know him so well, and yet I never know what he's going to do next... he's most delightful evidence that if solipsism is correct, I have truly multiple personalities, and we're playing a great game of it... many other people I can dismiss as figments of my imagination. I cannot do so with him.
Author? Smut, please...
no subject
no subject
no subject