To break a heart is easy

one small step back;

one small step forward

classified as an attack

It’s funny when you ask the universe to send you a couch, it ends up sending the exact one you ordered.

Except in the wrong colour…you forgot to specify that you wanted a ‘blue’ one instead of a ‘yellow’ one. There’s nothing wrong with the couch. It’s quite comfy. Just not ‘really’ the one you had in mind.

A friend argues that it’s not the colour of the couch that matters but that the couch is comfortable, sturdy, well made. Of good quality. True but the fact that it’s the wrong colour is really irritating, even thought the couch is quite charming, makes me laugh when I have a bad day…dance around like only a silly blue couch can.

And all I do is wonder about when the yellow couch is coming?

music

I have nothing to say.

It won’t be  illuminating in any way.

Even of I had something to say…

I would not say to you that you’re  illuminating in some old strange way.

It’s hard to show the cracks. Those tiny little fissures of uncertainty that peek from beneath my hat. If you show the cracks, it’s bound to be filled with sand. Blown from the four corners of the earth. Rubbing raw. Meticulously and persistently. So I’ll be brave. I’ll be brave today and give you a show. The best damn show you’ll ever see. I’ll pretend I’m happy. Happy with the way things are. Certain that the way things are, are the best damn thing ever. I’ll paint another picture and pretend she’s not me. Pretend she’s some old gal from my New Orleans dreams. Those dreams that haunt me, with the hidden Gauguin behind the wooden boards. The drinks, the merry, the sticky. The dancing girls. Sweet notes from down the street. A lullaby from my ancient life. Faintly mingling with my thoughts.

So I’ll be brave today. I’ll dance on tables and laugh like a drunk whore. Pretend that tomorrow’s not coming. Pretend that tomorrow won’t be like today. Pretend like tomorrow my New Orleans will stay.

Simply put. To make immortal in the sky. To put among the gods.(guess that’s roughly where the heads at)   The empress is just for good measure: supreme ruler or such other crap.

We are so consumed with immortality and the notion of living forever, albeit just for a split second in the imagination of the world, that we become obsessed with the business of promoting our egos, our vanity and our arrogance. Dutifully making sure that we project that image which sets us apart from the rest.

What’s my image? (See already talking about myself)

Apparently I’m crazy. Nothing more, nothing less. I like to think of it as ‘tortured,existentialistic, creative, genius’ but the world sees it otherwise. But I guess that’s everyone’s problem? Letting the world make assumptions about what we put out there.  Feeding that image that we meticulously create every day.

Now I like beautiful things, I like beautiful people. That’s me. My dirty little secret. Fortunately my idea of beauty is radically different from what is socially acceptable, so most of the time it works out. So it’s funny how people project themselves to the world. It’s pretty archaic and caveman. ( I know I won’t post a picture if I didn’t photo shop it to my perfecting standards) That’s all we do. Trying to find our place in the tribe. And it being such a big tribe, can cause some serious problems. For the ego and our vanity that is. Immortality in cyberspace is a fickle thing. It’s not so immortal as it seems. Just ask the Greek gods. They unfortunately will never make a comeback.

In the end, and the bottom line, everyone just wants to be loved, accepted and they’ll be damned if you try and accept an image they don’t want you to accept. The world is full of souls consumed with the fear of rejection, the truth, honesty and “just plain old fashioned people filled with goodness and values” that they will  go to great lengths to convince you otherwise.

That’s it. I’m done. Going back to my empire in the sky.

Good luck. Have fun. Love you.

Enskye Empress