I Don't care What you Do as Long as Its with Me.

Nailessee Williams,
Our generation the way we imagine it is doomed to being contained in the repetitious cyber glow of "cool". Last night Anna in Canada says "but isn't that what we want? Don't we want what's cool?" Yes, exactly, if only that were honestly inserted somewhere in The Coming Insurrection--if the regard and homage to cool were honestly stated then so much more could've been revealed about who we are and what we want. We want what's cool. and honest. and sincere. We want sincerity and coolness. Perhaps in a similar way Marlon Brando did it in a Street Car Named Desire. Sincerely cool like that, but my god, don't ever deny this. I won't ever deny that this is the case which persons often turn their noses up from. When did our desire for cool become socially inacceptable? Was it all the theory that made us embarrassed to admit that ultimately its what sounds and looks cool that matters? But don't you feel cool most of the time? I sure do. I feel so damn cool sometimes i don't even need to smoke a cigarette to feel it. Smoking a cigarette makes me feel too cool it makes me feel ready to die. That's exactly how cigarettes make me feel--one mile closer to death on wet train of cool. But man, sometimes i live for that feeling. I remember when one cigarette shared between two people was a signature of trust, of commonality, of equal difference. Nowadays I don't see cigarettes happening like this anywhere. I'd do it all the time with Natalya in LA in our apartment or in my car driving down to Sunset. Blvd. to work on a paper at a coffee shop while high off aderol and days of no sleep. Or with Anna in our London dorm room with tequila shots at 9am before taking an art history final in our pajamas and wandering through the rose gardens in Regents Park. All these instances of sharing cigarettes never recorded, hardly remembered, non-performative by nature and purely motivated by this wonderful sense of being human with all our flaws hanging out. Man how we glowed.

And now us in our separate states clinging on to the frilly edges of distance traced with a digital blog marker or smile every time we click closer. I get hotmail photos of dog silhouettes, junk tractors, and ocean waves like IOU's from paradise from a crush that makes me remember love the way i knew it in second grade; like a crush noticing you've got red marker blots on your cheek and he says something about it but you interpret it for him liking you when really its just embarrassing and he walks away not having a damn clue about how delusional you are. I am nothing but silly and you know what? It's totally okay. Its okay to think you love something you haven't got a clue about. Its far better than not having loved at all. Delusion, filthy eye contacts, broken eyeglasses makes it possible and you know what? Fuck it. I'm getting dressed for every moment of it.

<3
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