So the people that need to know have mostly been told. My K.D. Lang-ing has gotten out of hand. Every day or two I am intensely broken-hearted. I am not sure if this desire is really justified. I feel that there is and was a connection and that is certainly important. Meanwhile, in a cruel twist of fate, the Austin populous has gotten significantly hotter. Would it be right to pass up Austin opportunities just for a chance to record on her album? Fuck, are there Austin opportunities? Will there be a rally in Raleigh?
Just because they are foxier doesn’t mean they are anymore available, were I the last girl on Earth. The Economist: “The city’s dykes mostly stood firm.” If only they were talking about womenfolk. Or Austin.
I wanna be whomever she want me to be. But I don’t know who that is. I don’t think we ever really find out who our partners want us to be. We simply get better at guessing.
The right answer to this question is to just be myself! But like that the Who song, my definition of self is so fluid it is hard for me to pin down. If you have been the test subject of my recent beard/no-beard rants, I apologize. Or if you have ever been clothes shopping with me, you also know this. Every article is a statement of purpose.
It is so much easier to just adjust to someone’s expectations. But I have to respect that person, and they have to be at least as deviant as I am. I fucking wasn’t always this way. I used to just not care. But the joys of social engineering have ruined such apathy for me.
I feel like a fat lump of Gundamium (a lame, non-existent plot device) without her. She knows who Yusaf Islam is and my heart grows fonder with every mile.
Oh K.D. Lang, are you just a unicorn?! I look forward to the day when I may cry “Hallelujah!”