“Who’s that?” “Kurt Cobain.” “So it is.” Not the same grunge god that bestowed the First Testament, “From the Muddy Banks of the Wishka”, but the simple man who made it past 28 in my mind. I wonder what he would think of the last 30+ years. His clout goggles are in fashion again. “He’s the one who likes all our pretty songs and he likes to sing along.” He was long gone before most of the kids I see wearing his shirt these days were born. It’s the ache of a generation that knew his realness (the self-destruction, the humanity) while the kids today see him as a fashion accessory. It’s about the erasure of his flair, turning him into a trend; Watching a raw, visceral moment in history get flattened into a screen print for a t-shirt. I’m getting old. Beats the alternative.
I am still stuck on my nameless redhead. I don’t think I can let up until her name is revealed. I see her so plainly, but she won’t tell me her name yet. Maybe it’s like the olden days where you had to keep your real name a secret because a name was power. She’s Rumplestilkins. I question the real motive behind these old ways.
To my amazement, there are people who like being in the cave. People who prefer the shadows of people rather than the tangible person just out of view. It seems like a prison to me, stuck playing only one movie; A one note song.
I sold my soul for just one glance
A flash of fire, a stolen dance
Now every mirror disagrees
Shows me what this cost in me
It’s a never ending parade on fire and the ringleader is edging towards ring master of the universe. Am I the only one who hears circus music every time the news comes on? Things to ponder on.
The special community celebration that happens every year around my birth is this weekend. I won’t be attending. It’s prom and birthday celebrations for a sweet 17. Mother’s Day is coming up too. I always want to do something special for my mother and rarely feel accomplished at the end of the day. It’s the thought, but it seems I overthink everything, per the usual. Perhaps the “accomplishment” isn’t in the perfection of the gift, but in the fact that we’re both still there to witness the sunset.
The sky has been an astonishing color of burnt copper with the fires burning all over the state. It makes for quite the view in such a flat landscape. I see why people think they want to move here.
Real talk. I will never be able to say no to my teen’s requests for yaoi. He knows this too. So when he said he needed it, I knew the world needed it. For the phenomenon that is Luigi x Bowser, you must exist.
Huzzah! It has been done! Your wishes have been granted. The ship you always knew you needed; DK and Mario better get more of their passive aggressive boi love in the new movie.
I’ve been considering the redhead OC’s next move. I’m watching her, but she’s watching me. By withholding her name, she maintains her autonomy; she isn’t just a character, she’s a person I’m discovering. I am the witness. Is she waiting for me to become the person who is ready to hear her name? Or does she see herself as an entity and a name only makes her property?
I like this first pose, but it’s missing something. I marvel at how well this OC seems to fit into her new role. Found it! Yes, this is the pose she needed.
I contemplate what I’ll think of all of this in 30 years. The grunge god is still gone, the redhead is still there, the cave is still dark, the mirrors are still lying. The circus is still running, but the ringmaster is just another shadow on the wall, and I’m finally stepping out of the cave.