
Originally Posted by
red red red
Thanks for the votes of confidence, ladies, but I'm afraid it didn't stop there. Got this yesterday and I now would like to punch this dude. Note the subtle blackmail tone going on. Apparently homeboy knows his way around a google search... which is all you'd need if you wanted to find out I've been a stripper. Anyway:
Ominous and creepy? Hmm ... I was going for ironic with all the faux "emo" self-hatred and high brow self-justification. Alas, my friend, the intended recipient, wasn't so taken with it either. But her critique, because she knows me, was that it was all a bit too staged and self-conscious. Hey, what can I say, I'm a musician not a writer. It's dangerous to leave me unsupervised around adjectives.
So ...
In what will no doubt be a misbegotten effort to write my way out of mortification, and/or maybe turn a sour lemon into lemonade ... I was wondering if there were anything I could do to make you think I'm not insane -- or overly embittered or broken. Surely I'm no more broken than the average person, and certainly not to the extent I conveyed in my errantly posted exercise in performance art.
So ... if you think of anything I could do, let me know.
I admit, you intrigue me -- and, to preemptively answer the question that might be bubbling to the surface, no, I'm not hitting on you, I promise. Behind the high English forehead, the regal and elegant profile, beyond the priggish-intellectual demeanor, I imagine you as a true sensualist, and a woman with a past, which might still be half-present. Maybe you were once an exotic dancer, or a cia operative, or maybe exotic dancer was your cover while you gathered intelligence for the cia about the seedy underworld. One of the two, I'd wager.
(thank you for calling off the XXXth St. thugs, by the way ... I needed to go to the hardware store on XXXth and XXX today and for a moment, I had butterflies in my stomach)
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