An Intrinsic Exquisite

when people

love me I can't bear it

when people don't love me I can't bear that either

I get myself into such desperate straights

ker-squish, ker-scrunch-cruch, yeow-ker-squishhh...

Gina's mind was completely sucked into her shoes



I can't remember a time when I didn't long for love
there must be some tremendous emptiness inside me
if my parents had been loving, would I be more able to cope with love?
is this some kind of human-condition thing?

sometimes I think we get so frustrated with our longing that we just lash and thrash out hurting everyone and everything that comes near us. and we are bound and determined to keep everything having to do with love and connection out of everything we imagine that we can control

God, I love this rain, Gina thought as she schlurped and squished and dripped and sang her way down the long steep hill towards the funny looking apartment she was calling home

"Call me home," she sang

she could sing in the rain

she'd heard that some music ethnologist had discovered a tribe in Africa (we could probably make us an Amazonian, Australian, South Sea Island or African tribe to have any social habit we could imagine. like backwards science fiction, we are looking to validate ourselves through our connections with the past of the future, the present is just too damn poignant, pointy real)