And they speak of each other to me, and in their tongues is all the sweetness of the ages of lovers discovering each other, each time new and each time the most lovely and inevitable thing, spiced with the tears of the ages.
I feel like somebody’s sexless grandma next to them.
No, I just feel like me.
They have become the transcendescent Lovers, born twin of the Goddess, at last reunited to become so much more...
There’s a rather large nothingness inside my head right now.
It irks me.
I love them.
It’s not that I want to have sex with them. Of course I do. I’m human, I have a sex drive, they are attractive, they are loved — they are compatible — argh.
It’s that should I ever hurt them, I believe my heart would stop of its own accord and refuse to restart unless it was their touch that restarted it.
And through belief lies truth, and in lies that are believed the truth recedes.
Every lie is itself a truth.
Each truth is a lie.
Believe none of these.
“They’re good, fine people, Stuart, but they don’t know what the queers are doing to the soil.” – The Dead Milkmen, “Stuart”
I’m having a great day, really. I’m laughing my ass off at the song. It’s just so wrong. I love it.
Class tomorrow is going to be just great. I should get my backpack packed up all right so I can just blunder out tomorrow morning and blear my way to the bus stop.