Notes About Me From the Raconteur

"Xset's a rather nice young lass lost in a personal pilgrimage towards inner dawning and she still haven't figured that out yet... she's got comfortable (though rather bony) shoulders to cry on, a receptive ear for whining and crappy litanies but she's still not a person's ideal company if one fancy and/or tend to pop out sudden ideas contradicting her own over a cup o' java. she's a devil-womun hidin' behind a portrait of semi-frailty. be forewarned lass and laddies, i'll tell yous, she'll rip yer arms off then shove one down yer throat, the other up yer arse if ye'd get on her bad side."

-The Daily Rambler Magazine, August
issue 1998 by the foolish fawn

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Sober Summer Days

I saw her dancing in the rain with saline flowing down her eyes
I think she really lost her mind
I said, “I wish there’s something I can do,”
She said, “Relax you don’t need to,”
“See, I’m just celebrating life”
And she raised her glass and held it tight
Lost within a bubbly doze of detrimental haze
Self-inflicted hell mistaken for a marvelous thing
Lost within a bubbly doze of detrimental haze
Care to step inside the light of sober summer days?
She spoke of magic dusts and poems
And all things missing from her soul,
But now she finally found a sign
Declaring love is finally there
Though it was wrong, she wouldn’t care
She stared down on the bleak concoction’s foam
She felt so right I wish I’m wrong

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"She adamantly dismiss her flaws as traits, etched by fire on stone, defining her as a woman of strength&character. A woman to love or avert;either one you chose wud only matter so little for she's resolute being "herself" (or this formidable woman she's asserting to be).

it's admirable, yes, i concur, but i must say otherwise for even before progressing to this depth of intimacy i now share w/ her, i was able to look past her intimidating facade&saw her true essence:the potent and passionate xset i've always adored.
the mistaken traits&her own fear of confronting the ample possibilities her talent offers are the barriers hampering her to be her true self. she's her own antagonist."

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"...You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self."

-- Song of Myself , Walt Whitman

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So I started looking at things with my own eyes and I formed my own thoughts and dreams; but they're not the thoughts and dreams you thought I should be having. While I got lost in the contradiction of what it is you want me to do and who it is you want me to be you drifted further and further away... and now all of these are just silvery threads in my pensieve. -Moonchild