Lonesome Rhapsody

October 8, 2010 § Leave a comment

Here is something I get madly confused about. I write here, yes, not a lot, but I have spent a good amount of words and emotions over it. And I very seldom find myself say; I’ll jot this down on my blog but not right now because I have more important matters of consequence to deal with.

But here is a strange thing that I notice happening. I write my feelings to a group of girls, the ones whose opinions and responses I love to hear, the ones who make me smile to think about, the ones who I haven’t spoken (in realy life) with for ages and the ones I miss. So I write this long letter, explaining my matters of consequence, asking about theirs. I sing a little bit into it about images and colors, sometimes I’ll stick some artwork, sometimes I’ll simply deliver them with my words.

unfortunately, I find myself waiting to hear back from most of them. I spend days thinking that the little red bubble with numbers that pop up on the mail image on my phone or my pad is a long letter from them, explaining their matters of consequence. Or I check my mailbox, hoping that someone wrote me a letter, included a CD or a little penny inside. I know it is all too romantic for me, and from the looks of it, I will never be satisfied in terms of this topic. I would need to start up a website where, when I write a letter, or send an e-mail, it generates this letter form of consequence that has images and colors, maybe it even makes me a mixed-tape. This information and the taste of this machine person who will write back to me, this individuality would have to be gathered from the Internet. Maybe from various blogs or opinion sites, where the machine I have prepared picks the most compatible one for me and or produces it by mixing a couple of individualities together. And then I would continue writing back and forth with this person, or persons, as we satisfy each other’s loneliness and fuel our romanticism. Except this person wouldn’t be a person at all, since the real people in my life do not accept my romancing them over with my words and images and this is my platform for an outbreak.

Now that I’ve invented online-dating. What else is new.

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