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The Aficionado

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падения ночи [Sep. 5th, 2008|10:46 pm]
The Aficionado

jean_lafitte
..
.

mon petit vulcan
you're eruptions and disasters
i keep calm
admiring your lava
i keep calm

Mish
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(no subject) [Jul. 12th, 2007|04:14 pm]
The Aficionado

1ragincajun
Cold silence has
A tendency to
Atrophy any
Sense of compassion
Between supposed brothers
Between supposed lovers
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The Praying Mantis [Feb. 15th, 2007|05:24 pm]
The Aficionado

jean_lafitte
Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

The Praying Mantis

It was the summer of 88 and the sun was about to melt the tin on the roof of the warehouse. I had just parked my forklift and had come back from being entertained by a praying mantis I had found in the tall grass on the far end of the dock. I remember being impressed at how it showed so much courage when I stuck my finger in its face. It stood its ground and continued to box my finger with its front legs. It must be a female, I thought. I then pictured me being a male praying mantis and her biting my head off with a sly green smile. I suddenly stopped aggravating it, and decided to go to eat lunch.

Cabot Corporation, a carbon black company my father worked for, hired its employees’ children for summer help. Those children had to be attending college to get the job. This was my second year there and this year I was working in the warehouse bagging and loading carbon black.

I sat on a pallet of carbon black bags waiting for Katie; I was singing Don’t Dream It’s Over by Crowded House. Katie, two years older than me, was working in the warehouse too. We decided to eat lunch together today.

We always knew each other growing up, but were never really that close. In the past month things changed between us. She wasn’t the easiest girl to understand though. She always talked about guys she had her sights on. I listened and gave her advice. We talked about music, philosophy, animals, and astronomy. We talked about everything.

I wanted to ask her out, but never got the balls to do so. She would flirt everyday and that was starting to drive me crazy.

She walked up to me with black smudges across her face and I thought, how can she still look so beautiful? She grabbed my hand and said, ‘Let’s go to warehouse #32’.

‘Why warehouse 32?’ I asked.

She looked at me with a grin and said, ‘Shut up.’

Warehouse #32 was the last one at the far end of the main row of warehouses.

We sat down in the far corner of the somewhat dark warehouse. There were some taller pallets of bagged carbon black surrounding us.

Sweat dripped into my eyes as I pulled out my tuna sandwich and then Katie whispered, ‘We’re not here to eat Brian.’ My face had the look of a face when your truck gets stuck on the railroad tracks and a train is 50 feet away coming straight for you.

She took my sandwich out of my hand and leaned into me. I felt her breath on my ear. She asked softly, ‘You wanna kiss me?’ I felt the words in my mouth, but I couldn’t seem to open my lips to get them out. I lost all motor skills at that point. I reached up and fumbled with my hardhat. It fell upon the floor and echoed throughout the warehouse.

I moved my lips towards hers. She waited for me to move closer.

I suddenly felt a rush of blood to my penis. I never felt it get so hard so fast before. I was certain it could cut a diamond.

Our lips touched as I grabbed her shoulders. I felt as if I should hold on for dear life, like she was going to take me to places I had never been before.

I opened my eyes to see if I was still there and she had the most erotic look on her face. Don’t tell me that I couldn’t see her whole face, because I could. I swear that I was floating above us watching every detail of her.

I could taste the sweat on her lips. She pressed her chest against mine, and then pushed me back onto the bags of carbon black. I laid there watching as she climbed on top of me. She looked like a lioness ready to eat me. She leaned over and her hair fell in my face.

I began to undo each button on her blue work shirt. She pulled her shirt off and then reached behind her back; her bra fell to the ground. Her breasts were bigger than I had imagined; they were pretty much perfect.

Sunlight from a hole in the roof poured over her body as sweat beads ran down her breasts.

Was this real, I thought.

Later that afternoon I stood on top of one of the railroad tank cars and stared off into the distance.

Would this really work?
Could this really work?
Was she really a nice girl?

I suddenly thought of the praying mantis.

What if she bit my head off next time?
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Goodbyes were here to stay. [Jun. 14th, 2006|11:19 pm]
The Aficionado

october_raped
[mood |blankheavy in the chest]

and it's so heavy
weighing me down
suffocating me.
the pressure pulsates all over my body
travelling through my veins.
what could you have been.

and like a rock it stays.
lurched ontop, lodged within.
if I had a choice you would be a lump stuck in my throat.
instead you're luggage pressed over my heart,
in my chest.
crowding and weighing it down.

Down
down
down
down
down

too bad feelings can't be decisions made.
never believed so anyways.

So down
down
down
down
down
down

and the heavier and the same you stay
lump lurch ontop of my heart, within my chest
pulsating through my veins
heavy on my lungs suffocating all of me.


Down down down down down.
and so here you are
here you are to stay.
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Esthero ft. Shakiri Nite - If tha mood [May. 27th, 2006|12:45 pm]
The Aficionado
simplyesther
[mood |flirtyflirty]
[music |Pussycat Dolls - Buttons]

Remember when we used to?.. We can do that again...
I know I said it was over but if you ever wanna come over
I think I got what it takes to make you feel nice
Because you gave yourself to another
But I suppose you haven't forgotten what my love tastes like
And she won't fuck you like I do and you know that it's true cause
I have what she hasn't got and I remember all your spots so

If tha mood should hit ya and ya wanna, baby I don't mind
A little taste may relieve the tension I feel inside


Curl up in my cozy web this unbelievably delicious bed
Oh, don't say no, that's not how this should go
I've thought about you often, this feeling hasn't gone rotten
Let's take a spin round that old block again you say
She won't fuck you like I did, she's not into that wild shit and
I have what she hasn't got...really?
Well then

So if tha mood should hit ya and ya wanna, baby I don't mind
A little taste may relieve the tension I feel inside

Shakari nite: you always know what things to do to keep me wanting you,
And also all the things to say to keep me comin your way
Due to the beauty preferred, its hard for me to be true to my girl
Cant be trust wit you in my world (I'm glued to the kush, ya heard?)
No gas, my tanks empty, I'm stuck in your town
The plan's to gently buckle you down and fuck you now...i wanna fuck you now
Only the truth is wit me, now im phenen to screw you swiftly

Now I don't mean to be rude with tha lips b.
I'm guessin the mood just hit me

If tha mood should hit ya and ya wanna, baby I don't mind
A little taste may relieve the tension I feel inside
[3x]
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Somethings. [Apr. 11th, 2006|03:26 pm]
The Aficionado

october_raped
[mood |This just might be my liberty.]
[music |I will not associate this with any song.]

there was no point in typing about it.

It's not important enough anymore to be archived.
The most important thing is that I have finally been liberated.
And even then, it is only worth a slight mentioning.




Life has revert back to normalcy.

And I am comfortable once again.


***

Feelings will always be there.
Well, somewhere.
Just not in me,
not anymore.
Trapped in a bottle,
a memory floating abroad.
Set it free, and free it shall be.
Never lost on its own and neither lost is it to me.
Until the end of its time
it will always be there
but definately not
till the end of mine.




That will be the last.
No longer will I draw upon these feelings, and empty emotions for familiarity or inspiration.
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(no subject) [Mar. 29th, 2006|08:17 pm]
The Aficionado

oo_mimi_oo
[mood |sadsad]

Will it ever be?
I’ve tried so hard to find sweet serenity
Are you still afraid?
Just close your eyes and dream, and feel it fade away.

Time won’t flow, everyone knows
When the pain fades away
And dreams won’t die, with tears in our eyes
You’ve got to hold your head up high
Yeah yeah...
Hold your head up high
Yeah yeah...
Hold your head up high

It’s taken some time,
And I’ve given up the will to change your state of mind
Try and understand,
It’s not so hard to see that I am just a man.

Time won’t flow, everyone knows
When the pain fades away
And dreams won’t die, with tears in our eyes
You’ve got to hold your head up high
Yeah yeah...
Hold your head up high
Yeah yeah...
Hold your head up high
Will it ever be?
I’ve tried so hard to find sweet serenity
Try and understand,
It’s not so hard to see that I am just a man.

Time won’t flow, everyone knows
When the pain fades away
And dreams won’t die, with tears in our eyes
You’ve got to hold your head up high
Yeah yeah...
Hold your head up high
Yeah yeah...
Hold your head up high
Yeah yeah...
Hold your head up high
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ghost of a good thing [Feb. 22nd, 2006|02:24 pm]
The Aficionado

oo_mimi_oo
I guess it’s luck, but it’s the same
Hard luck, you’ve been trying to tame
Maybe it’s love, but it’s like you said
“Love is like a role that we play.”

But, I believe in you so much
I could die for the words that you say
But, I believe in you so much
I could die from the words that you say

But, you’re chasin’ the ghost of a good thing
Haunting yourself as the real thing
It’s getting away from you again
While you’re chasin’ ghosts

I guess it’s luck, but it’s the same
Hard luck, you’ve been trying to tame
Maybe it’s love, but it’s like you said
“Love is like a role that we play.”

But, I believe in you so much
I could die for the words that you say
But, I believe in you so much
I could die from the words that you say

But, you’re chasin’ the ghost of a good thing
Haunting yourself as the real thing
It’s getting away from you again
While you’re chasin’ ghosts

Just bend the pieces ‘till they fit
Like they were made for it
But, they weren’t meant for this
No, they weren’t meant for this

Just bend the pieces ‘till they fit
Like they were made for it
But, they weren’t meant for this

Chasin’ the ghost of a good thing
Haunting yourself as the real thing
It’s getting away, away, away, away from you again

Chasin’ the ghost of a good thing
Haunting yourself as the real thing
It’s getting away from you again
While you’re chasin’ ghosts
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(no subject) [Feb. 15th, 2006|11:33 am]
The Aficionado

elizabethxiii
[mood |nostalgicnostalgic]
[music |www.kexp.org]

i didn't grow up on the 'right' side of hillside. not that it was the 'wrong' side of the tracks, just the wrong side of hillside. mentally, emotionally, i always segregated myself from the kids i knew lived on the 'right' side of hillside. while i had friends who lived in all sorts of neighborhoods, as a rule i thought that most of the kids on the 'right' side of hillside, in college hill, would look down on me for where i lived, and judge me if they ever came inside my house or saw my parents cars. we shared honors classes and homework, but i never invited them to my house. the friendship stopped at the door of the classroom with most of them. or, as was more often the case, i saw their designer jeans and they saw my awkward glasses and thrift store, makeshift fashions, and the friendship never even started in the classroom.

on the 'right' side of hillside were wide, restored bungalows, tall brick tudors with peaking slopes for roofs, colorful little victorians, imposing french revival architecture...and the houses grew in size and stature as you reached the top of college hill. mansions with vast, supergreen lawns, gated blocks, carriage houses with apartments for the hired help above, tall and thick stone walls, plots of land that took up the entire side of a block...even a house designed by frank lloyd wright himself...these were the houses i walked through on my way home from seventh and eighth grade everyday. these were the fantasy lives i was surrounded with...

until i crossed hillside.

my neighborhood was a mishmash of incomes and backgrounds. mostly white, lower-middle class or upper-lower class - teachers, factory workers, clerks, young families, and the elderly. most of the lawns were spotted with brown grass and weeds. the paint was chipping off many of the low bungalows. extra things piled up on some of the shady front porches, with porch swings that mostly sat vacant. the yards were smaller, with narrow driveways shooting up between the homes, often the only separation between neighbors. dozens of variations on the bungalow theme, with some tall, seemingly out of place four-square homes on corner lots and a few 1920s brick apartment buildings on the perimeter, along douglas street. a few old farmhouses sprouted up on large, expansive lots, out of place because they had been there first, and the property around them had been pieced off and sold, bit by bit, to the builders in the teens and twenties. the houses that were well kept, beautifully painted, with manicured lawns - those are the properties that stood out, not the ones that blended in.

i always felt safe in my neighborhood. i knew it would never have the prestige of college hill, of the other side of hillside, but it always felt comfortable and i always felt safe. i walked the streets after midnight sometimes, as an eighth grader and during high school, with my friends from my youth group, which met until midnight in the basement of the brick methodist church directly across the street from our white bungalow with blue trim, a white picket fence, and a delabitated garage. our little 'gang' of long-haired girls in flannel shirts, boys in combat boots and heavy metal tee-shirts, girls with dangly dragon-shaped earrings...boys with chain wallets. but i felt safe. we were misfits. we weren't threatening, we were just bored, and walking to the corner store at midnight to buy slushies seemed like a good way to pass the time.

as i got older, my friendships changed. i found myself being invited to parties by my junior year that would have been offlimits to me when i was younger, simply because of the guest list and the party address. i remember being inside some of these homes, these amazing, wide-halled, antique-filled, luxurious homes, and wondering, "when are they going to figure out that i don't belong here?" they never did, or if they did, they never led on...but i was never comfortable. it felt like someone else was playing my role...i wasn't ever completely comfortable being myself.

now i am helping plan my high school reunion, and i keep finding myself communicating online, in various forums, with people who i never spoke to in high school. i knew who they were, and they knew who i was, but that segregation, that fear of never being accepted by them had kept me from ever entertaining the idea of being their friend. now that we are in our late twenties, it seems the differences between us have really minimized, and the gap has narrowed...perhaps it has disappeared all together? we all work hard. most of us graduated from state schools in kansas, and are either married or engaged. some of us have children. some of us are divorced. we all seem to enjoy the same past-times, watch the same movies, enjoy the same humor, have similar interests. and while we don't pretend that we were friends back then, we do seem to just accept the fact that we can be friends now.

it makes me wonder if being friends ten years ago would have been a possibility after all? i will never know, and i suppose it's better that way.

now i find myself in an eclectic, culturally varied neighborhood in seattle, across the country from the imaginary lines i used to draw for myself and my social life in wichita. we live in a house that costs my landlord a half-million dollars to buy, not to mention the money she poured in to remodel it. my daughter attends school with children who live in million dollar, single-family homes down the street, but their parents, while 10-20 years older than i am, are really not that different, either. they love their kids. they cheer them on at soccer games. they get excited for one another when job opportunities and life changing events occur. the only difference is that they own their homes, and i rent. they drive an audi and i drive a volkswagon. i wear clothes from urban outfitters and the gap and banana republic, and they shop at nordstom's or macy's. we shop at the same grocery stores, rent movies at the same blockbuster, get coffee at the same coffee shops, use the same dry cleaners. they may take more vacations, but they have money worries too - they're just bigger money worries than i have.

i hope my children never see the lines separating them from their classmates and peers. i hope they never see color, or background, or priviedge, or architecture, or cars, or email addresses as a dividing line between who they are and who they want to know. i hope my daughter never has to write about how she finally feels accepted by people she didn't think would ever want her friendship. i hope she always feels about her classmates as she feels now: he's funny, she's smart, he's annoying, she's a good artist...not he's rich, she's poor, he's black, she's asian...or he lives in that big house on the corner, but she lives in that dirty apartment building in the central district...

it's nice to go back to wichita now, because the same bungalow on the same corner is still my mom's home. it's yellow with green and brick red trim now, instead of white and blue. the garage is still delapitated. the house has a new roof, and there is some new furniture and flooring and wiring and plumbing inside. the yard is still a disaster, with unraked leaves pasted to the ground and untended rose bushes winding around themselves. the porch still holds random boxes, and the old porch swing is usually dusty, only used when guests come over and have a cigarette on the porch. but it's home. it's comfortable. it's safe. and it's part of who i am. it's my background...but now i'm in a different show, as a different character. and this character is okay with the truth, with the weathered wood siding and the brown yards behind me...
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Lana [Jan. 19th, 2006|02:48 pm]
The Aficionado

1ragincajun
[music |Andain & DJ Tiesto - Beautiful Things]

Lana tries to find out if the reason Clark isn't putting out is because he's ... GAY

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