My Thoughts on a Quiet Sunday Morning

Today I sat outside in the sunlight. I like my coffee when I can’t taste the coffee. I like my cream and sugar. I take a breather. I try not to smoke a cigarette. I watch my shirts flutter on their hangers. Today’s a nice day to do nothing. When you have all the time in world, you don’t appreciate that time. Then when you have a million things to do, all you want is time to do nothing. I like to think my mind is a high-maintenance woman. People like to challenge my masculinity. I get caught up in that sometimes. But then I remember its all ego in the end. I try to repress my ego. I try to repress my vanity. For a week, I embraced my vanity. I cut my hair and got a large tattoo on my shoulder. There’s this idea I’ve been tinkering with; one must be vain to have an identity in modern times. You are your clothes, your hair, your body, your words, your Instagram, your facebook.  Anything deeper, more intimate, you don’t get to share save with a few special people. I think that’s identity. Vanity is how you show as much of yourself without the late-night, 2AM conversations. We’re just trying bypass that and we’ve gotten good at it. We’re all walking talking narratives of how we’d like to live our lives. I guess I’m tired of narratives. I think its from being in Hollywood too much. You have the beautiful people. Then you have the schizophrenic lying face down on the library’s lawn. The beautiful people have narratives that they wear and broadcast. The homeless dude is like, ‘this is me’ because he doesn’t have the consciousness to create a narrative. I think I want to be honest like that dude. I am sad. I am lonely. I am a feminine man. I am a rare human being. I am emotional. I am meeeeee.

 

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alanwrites

I'm writing a novel, but this is for my other projects. Thanks for reading!