orgami's Diaryland Diary

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where the hell have you been Steven??

well...out there...but I made er back..
cleaning..running errands...surviving..
food banks...mall crawls...rain runs...
writing...writing...writing... and
unexpectedly meeting someone...well new..
even though I have my old....
and even though its pretend in many ways
its refreshing....like hearing some new
voice on the radio cutting through the
static...the words reach you...me I mean
her words reach me...now we share music
and some chum times....both about same
ages...I enjoy the younger minds...but
age does rack up at this number....I am
fifty one this year although I roar about
on the bike and keep the noodle active.
work with pretty much the top alpha of
the little clan I sometimes chum with...
and the streetsters...like a bridge..
why I love bridges...I am neither this nor
that so cannot benefit the totality of
either....and yet there is a freedom...
kind of...a poverty that gives clarity..

and been listening to Seether a lot and
another band very similar to seether...
suggested to me by a very bright young
beautiful poet....I collect minds and
visual beauty....condemn me if you must
but I have never avoided the point blank
reality of my own personal vanity...there
is something dark behind all beauty...
and I never considered myself to be beautiful
although the women whom have seen my photos
on the other sites I haunt are not repulsed
villanesque...intense...most women clutch
their purses in the mall..cover their bosoms
thats good...but its the nice looking ones
that will grab your shit and run...ordinary
blenders I call em.....I like armoured cars
and banks..more of a technical challenge..
although beyond me...

and other womens eyes linger on my mid section
the belt of simple buckle chrome...attractive
purposeful..authentic..and the chain to the bike lock key in hip pocket....the vintaged now but almost new Sisley brand hipster wear
that would should be on a younger man my
thirty year junior..but I wore shit like this
in high school college and beyond....the dress
shirts with cross hanging open...made of elk
bone by a genuine artisan from the old country
now naturalized here...a viking rooted brilliant gent...my long hair if combed right
can pass sucessfully as a hipster...worn parted down middle no mousse as rock persona
slicked back in ponytail like the native true
in me....B actor face...
they smile knowing what kind of a character I am....they have had a taste of such before...
their eyes and response tells me.....
Hello ladies say my eyes back...grey..glittering most days...forever
hungry and haunted like my mind...pacing like
a creature in the cage at the approach of a bad storm....

my new muse....I hope I make her smile...happy
listening to her music.....her likes...we
find each other this manner....i write polite
but there is an atrocious side..slur and swears..anger and loud...committed to the madness....i still remember...ive worn a straight jacket almost and a tux....ive been behind the wheel of wrecks and finery of the livery...trusted with family....
a position of interest...like my present job..
niche and specialized extension of my boss..
titleless...closer then close...like a right
hand almost of work...qaulity...at that level its personas....myth...archtype....

with twenty five cents in my pocket....
and worn out boots...lifer boots shoes..
not FNG wear....

I like diaryland....like the people that write here....you kids...we didnt have this in my time...you wrote in journals and shared some if you had people like you....journalist report...correspondance from our landscapes...
I remember twenty....working..had a use of a car..the mustang or the four door mercury 1977 cougar....my friends loved it..it was huge...the mustang had the eight ball from an old pool table we had...gauges from the then eighties scrapped voodoos or f-100's...should have just kept the whole gauge...scrapyard..just busted off the face..
glued them to the dash....half the cockpit was laying there...just junk then....

and if shes a made up persona just trolling who cares...its building up a framework of ideal or worth in head....
sometimes people are authentic....
Original..sometimes you just want the original not the knock off..oh dear....the originals can be more then a handful....way more...

so it goes...steady here.....
always moments...they may seem dull....
in others lives eyes...we may be a beacon
in their darkness...

you may sit by my fire...but you must
not steal my fire....i may share my
fire....
and sometimes...
Baby Light my Fire........

vrrooom vrrooom

3:30 p.m. - 2015-10-18

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