A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- molting a litle laundry. i should tail off the entertainmetexpenses and focus on upgrading my wardrobe. as it is, even for all the times i have done any clothes shopping, attrition, wear and fluctuations in weight seem to keep me down to variations on the same 5 outfits yes, sometimes monsters are self conscious about their image. After all, when i became the beast, i was quite the shopper, my ill-gotten funding spent as soon as i earned it on any combination of clothes, music, chemical and interpersonal recreation. and that fucking apartment. It was funny, in the end, i had a hard time giving away some of the clothes. When i was out to play or conduct more sociable business, the clothes i wore were more than a little bit "festive" in their ostentatiousness. Yes, the monster was once quite the peacock...where there was money, influence or amusement to be had. For less social occasions, there were the four black suits, worn with either black dress shirt or black pullover shirt (t-shirt, turtleneck, what have you) two off-the-rack and two tailor-made (one of my associates was overly fond of me and took me to a good tailor as his way of making didn't quite qualify as a subtle pass) funny that the only thing that remains of any of it all is my old trenchcoat, purchased remarkably cheap from a mid-level men's boutique, which though ratty and beaten as it is with so much time behind it, once fit beautifully, if not damned near perfectly over the clothes i used to wear. hasn't been cold enough for the trench very often this year, it sits, crumpled in the corner where it slid off the hanger, all most all of the buttons shattered in falls, fabric pilling up in the some of the wear spots. a while back i soaked it in the sink and in the tub until the water ran black, all the dirt and debris and pollution that numerous dry cleanings couldn't shake loose were washed away as best as i could manage it gave me pause to wonder... had all that blackness and dirt come from the world i had traveled through in it, or had it all come from me and seeped out into those parts of the world i've passed through No, that damn bird hasn't been a peacock in quite some time. the time for any bright plumage i ever wore came to an end quite some time ago 8:29 p.m. - 2003-03-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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