One of my vices if vanity.
You find girls, yes, and like them yes, and if you are lucky you spent time together and it is fun. And sometimes this means sex and sometimes it means, you know, trying to be a good person and be there for them, listen to them, help them and do all the things one finds in an altruist heart.
But here it is: I don't get it. Why they can ever choose someone over me. Why woudl they ever choose someone I know to be inferior. I don't understand it, and the only way I can, you know, explain it (which I MUST do) is to suppose that it is because of their OWN weakness. If she chooses some guy over me, if she cannot seem my virtues, or does not value them, that it is a failure on HER part, and I was wrong to feel anything for her in the first place. I cannot get angry at the stupid and ignorant, but that does not mean I have to love them either. And I CAN get angry at myself for being so foolish.
Fuck you if you are even remotely intelligent and you have not felt or thought the same as I have just described. It is the secret rage of the virtuous and underappreciated. And to be clear, it is not that I resent them, for, you know, not loving me or something for all the things I do for them. You cannot do good and expect others to reward you: but you CAN expect them not to hurt you. A good deed does not buy you a good deed, but mininum it entails not getting screwed over.
And I do not mind being used, just being wasted.
Poem. Here:
To Be A Mountain
This is what it means to be a mountain
A forever standing against the returning dawn
Waiting till the trees grow around your feet
And birds nest in your hair and shit incessantly
Down the furrowed streaks of your hardening brow
Indeed harden your self to the wind and the rain
To time and a million things that pass your way
Till you too are burst from the earth ancient and alone
And let water run from a crack in your core
That bleeds out the last of your heart in a crystal stream
Grow till your hands cut the sky and horizon
Till your peak is frozen without thought or memory
Be stubborn and old, that you may never be conquered
And draw the storms and winds to envelop your self
So men despair at your sight, never daring your surface
Be these things, change these things and find contentment
In the blindness of a stark and unflinching perspective
And maybe then you will be strong enough, hard enough, old enough
Wise enough, cold enough, technical enough, forlorn enough
And remote enough that you may forget and never remember
-March 5, 2006
You find girls, yes, and like them yes, and if you are lucky you spent time together and it is fun. And sometimes this means sex and sometimes it means, you know, trying to be a good person and be there for them, listen to them, help them and do all the things one finds in an altruist heart.
But here it is: I don't get it. Why they can ever choose someone over me. Why woudl they ever choose someone I know to be inferior. I don't understand it, and the only way I can, you know, explain it (which I MUST do) is to suppose that it is because of their OWN weakness. If she chooses some guy over me, if she cannot seem my virtues, or does not value them, that it is a failure on HER part, and I was wrong to feel anything for her in the first place. I cannot get angry at the stupid and ignorant, but that does not mean I have to love them either. And I CAN get angry at myself for being so foolish.
Fuck you if you are even remotely intelligent and you have not felt or thought the same as I have just described. It is the secret rage of the virtuous and underappreciated. And to be clear, it is not that I resent them, for, you know, not loving me or something for all the things I do for them. You cannot do good and expect others to reward you: but you CAN expect them not to hurt you. A good deed does not buy you a good deed, but mininum it entails not getting screwed over.
And I do not mind being used, just being wasted.
Poem. Here:
To Be A Mountain
This is what it means to be a mountain
A forever standing against the returning dawn
Waiting till the trees grow around your feet
And birds nest in your hair and shit incessantly
Down the furrowed streaks of your hardening brow
Indeed harden your self to the wind and the rain
To time and a million things that pass your way
Till you too are burst from the earth ancient and alone
And let water run from a crack in your core
That bleeds out the last of your heart in a crystal stream
Grow till your hands cut the sky and horizon
Till your peak is frozen without thought or memory
Be stubborn and old, that you may never be conquered
And draw the storms and winds to envelop your self
So men despair at your sight, never daring your surface
Be these things, change these things and find contentment
In the blindness of a stark and unflinching perspective
And maybe then you will be strong enough, hard enough, old enough
Wise enough, cold enough, technical enough, forlorn enough
And remote enough that you may forget and never remember
-March 5, 2006
nena:
