soapboxdiner

Ye Yo

Been listening to Erykah Badu's Ye Yo for two days straight. Anthem working it's way around, speaking my state of mind. Lit candles in the dark and danced alone in my living room as I folded laundry. Felt pretty. Felt good-alone and bad-lonely for the almost mythical companion that I've built into a God. But he didn't come.

I don't even want him. The mythic man-god.

Bah.

I wore make-up today for the first time in probably six months. Isn't it odd that something so small can make you feel so different? I felt approachable - which I in all my Mona Lisa reserve rarely am. You know what's funny? And this is really one of the secret oddities of me that I never talk about. Don't know if anyone else ever notices the difference but...

When I walked today in my brand-new-and-stylish outfit, I felt the old me coming out. I felt feline and fluid in movement. And damned sexy. So far from my usual frumpiness. I liked it for awhile.

But then my conspiculously missing cloak of invisibility knocked on my brain and told me to feel awkward in my physical confidence.

Bastard. Remind me to punch him in the neck next time he talks to me.

Bought a new battery for the camera, thinking to honor the request of Alexandra, who asked to see me in my new duds. Maybe next time darling. I'm feeling a little low right now and pictures just aren't on the agenda.

The sun's in the east and the moon reflects
like the knowledge and the wisdom, I manifest.
If you wanna go to heaven,
lay up on my breast.
I'm ye yo.
Your ye yo.

5:42 pm - 08.12.02
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