so i skipped french

there are many things you can accomplish on a saturday noon if you decide to skip french
i went to the dematologist to get solutions for my sensitive skin, a rush, they close at 4pm
there are many things you can accomplish on a saturday noon if you friend also skips french
so we met impromptu, and i made my way to the malls.
she needed pants
i do not need anything
but what does it matter
she got herself 3 pairs of jolie pantalons
i got a black shirt and dress that happen to go well together
by way of faye wong's android in 2046 and bladerunner
it just means it's a little cyber and edgy with strong silhouette
bladerunner is a very important movie , the influences of which are archived in the collections of alexander mcqueen, especially evident in his earlier works
" you know, we skipped french but we have used our time wisely. we did retail therapy. which is more gratifying for the soul."
i remarked to her as i recalled benoit's face.
not quite a miss.

since i couldn't sleep last night i was thinking
so i skipped french.
it's not difficult to choose to do things that you are aware you are not supposed to do
so i'm cheating on you.
yeah, i cannot even begin to think of a reason.

ode to my 100-yr-old capelet

my 100 yr old capelet is back from the cleaner
it still smells strange
when it first arrived, it bore a note that says it's over 100 years old
now it is beautifully pressed with a healthy sheen
embossed velvet, like deep black on charcoal in floral or fruit motifs
if i wave to you or smoke, you would glimpse the lining
which is fuschia, like something unexpected out of darkness
an insignificant sign is the most unforgettable
like the story where the kid would be granted 3 wishes if he could forget the red of a red fox's tail, he gave his word without a thought but tried as he might, he was in pain as he could not get the red out of his head
the boy did not get his 3 wishes
i dreamt about the capelet twice before it arrived

it is so sad to mostly dream about losing your cats
your dreams are about your fears

perhaps it has travelled like the red violin
once it was someone's favourite capelet
perhaps it was stashed away and forgotten

now the girl who wears it feels like a mad princess or countess

spinning personal fiction

arsenic powder on her fingers

mr ash asked after his bento
i have arsenic powder on my fingers
i want to say they are fine

i do not want to say i've been rereading the introductory essay to madame bovary
i do not want to say, fried udon, tofu salad, cod fish with rice, teriyaki broccoli and tofu salad
not because i keep deliberating between udon and rice
not because they are already 3 weeks overdued

because your maid will cook according to the menu i decide for the bento
i want to say i can name something fanciful i can't cook
i want to sound insincere
i want to say i've lose interest in the bento

on pg 216, it says
il ne faut pas toucher aux idoles: la dorure en reste aux mains
we both know
i'll never cook for you

each time we turn our immaculate napkin rings
the ironic transposition of our separate existence
catches
how could you believe in the bento?
i want to say something that i can cook

we must not touch our idols: the gilt sticks to our fingers

you can smell my fingers

i can't say

the aquarium moment

it's cliche but true
how the world is reduced to just the couple who have eyes only for each other
the other day, i had my unexpected aquarium moment
the room was full of people
you knelt down to my seat
and your face was close
you had lots to say from your eyes
but there wasn't much content in your words
i was attracted by and overcome with wonder
to see the life aquatic in those clear orbs
you said goodbye but you followed me to the other room that was not empty
i was amused and urged you to go
but i looked into your eyes and see the fishes swimming
and you were looking for the fishes in my eyes too
i wanted to tell you that it was a colorful world
i thought i was too cynical to see again
and that i knew you were going to

kiss me

"i want to be seduced"

sorry, i think if i laugh out loud it would be very offensive

so i keep the silence awkward

the bento

on monday he goes to work. he whistles on his way to the jingle of the keys in his pocket. as usual he greets his colleagues at the elevator. today, he thought , he find these commsumate fools strangely more endearing. he is thinking of something they don't know or have no access to. a world that exists beyond the arid office. to which he feels insulated by this secret knowledge. it is a breeze to lunchtime. he finds himself in the company of mice and men again. that in honest truth, he makes no effort to avoid. sometimes, he even appears to be basking in their attention. without insuferable nimcompoops, you would not discern sufferable ones. he is still thinking about his promised lunchbox when he realizes that it has a metacognitive effect. it is no freudian slip. he is aware that it might have been an intentional attempt to bridge his physical world with his interior monologue, a lapse between reality and surreality. experience and imagination. with all the trappings of desiring an ethereal thing that could or should never be converted to something tangible. it is not physical. he has said it, "i would like to have udon''. the bento is aphysical. perhaps not even one of his lunchmates heard. they do not have to be interested. the udon would be in the bento that his petite amie would prepare for him. not because it is the only dish she knows how to cook, he is hopeful. it is the knowledge that he could be happier. the knowledge of being able to see another world that exist beyond obligations and duties. even if that knowledge does not serve as an option. options are annihilations of something safe when you've reached a cetain age and acquired certain asserts and cynism. between work and home, he oscillated between content and discontent. he could be happier. he knows. it is enough to know and somtimes it is not enough to know at all. the bento is not an object. it is not a promise. it is an objectified vision of your discontent and desire.

he hates it when she goes into theoricizing and the conditioning of human psyches