forbidden

Sometimes there are things you can't say and sometimes there are things you say that you wish you never had…but worst of all are the things you didn't realize how much you wish they weren't yours to say until you're saying them out loud.

Today there are two stories.

The first begs a question of what do you do when your hair stylist is cute and interesting and nice and talented…and NOT GAY! Anyhow…sometimes I imagine things and sometimes I chicken out and at the end of this day I can't even really gamble on boldness because this is the best fucking haircut I have ever had in my whole entire life so I can't screw up our professional relationship. Plus, we kinda have the same bangs…it's a consideration, no?

And sometimes there are days when nothing happens and other times things happen that are too big to talk about. That silence feels a bit the same. Today's second is part of a story with a long history and no future (until maybe the retirement home)…and it falls into that latter category. Me and he, our worlds are a circus bleeding all over the magic forest...

If you need me I'll be dreaming of washi and Totoros and salsa with cucumbers and whales and Degrassi and haircuts and Japanese villages in the foothillls of the mountains, movies Godzilla anime music music music and a story about a monk living alone in a temple on the top of a hill who tells a story about a monk living alone in a temple on the top of a hill who is writing a story about a monk…alone…