Making looks that marginally aware high school dropouts would achingly emulate, but never achieve. no illusions, a very shocking statement, so much embarrassingment.
A fish that flies downstream, the force of quick moving layers of underwater and sediment sends him spinning on his vertical axis, alighting up and out of the water, cutting through in an aerodynamic flattened sphere, like a donut raced over by a heavy truck, yellow stickers of banaas all over, mysterious cargo, all private property. Here she is
Oh to be all that the past seems to be! But no, instead just soiled, sitting in an automatically erected structure of failure, barn-raised by laziness and hanging out. The gaps in all walls, filled bythe edgiest insects, only thousand paw boys , scorpions, slugs, the mites crawling unseen but felt, itched, complimented, and hopefully captured on camera phone each time a wall is fractured by drugged up male strangers horseplay turning to brutal assault. The unfinished character of reality means that I must supplement my experience by idolizing some version of the past that certainly did not exist. This is the lookI want. This is the look I need. This is that I want to do. This is the look I want. Aimed, ready, go
Beautiful different haircuts, shining around the neck of girls and horses. Caricatures of rich australian men’s daughters as played by the half italians on television. I must become half them and half rock and roll girl, the new centaur with the beautiful haircut on my neck, with only a cloud as clothes, with only a cloud as bed, with only the hills and the valleys for shoes. Me me me me me me me