I'm tired of playing dumb for everybody.
But if I just tell the world everything I know right off I think I would seem like a cunt, to myself even.
And I don't even know if I'd be able to. I've fashioned myself into something socially acceptable but that does not make me socially capable.
There are rhythms to conversation, there is talk and there is talk, a question and a statement and a reaction and a statement, we converse to learn about each other, to help each other, or to teach each other about ourselves.
I will not go on.
How can I go on.
Why would I go on.
The opening ceremony in Beijing was something to behold, completely not what I was expecting.
If I lived in China, I'd have some Chinese children.
I will mention that everything is going pretty great right now. I'm hesitant to mention it, fearing jinx, like how Little Honda's speedometer will be working fine for a time and when I congratulate her for it it shudders and thuds back to zero. Right now I'm looking at this happiness out of the corner of my eye, like she's got a knife in the folds of her skirt, but she's so so pretty and I want to dance with her so very much.
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