Hey bigshot, how’s the weather now I’m not by your side? It’s cold and damp here, but you knew that.

I’ve always put so much emphasis on things that don’t really matter. As if one bit of feedback on the weather will mark where out (currently non-existant) relationship is going to go. But I guess, well I know, I’m not the first. I’ve been friends with people who, through my silence, have read so completely into my expression and tendancies to the point where they imagined relationships, took chances, all due to some falsified feelings misled by a certain party.

So if the weather is bright and sunny I take it as cheery. I take it as you’ve moved on to bigger and better things; a new lady friend who treats you better, makes you feel more like home, who has common interests, submits to liking all the same music that you do, doesn’t intervene when you babble pretentious bullshit about avant garde art or music or whatever ‘underground’ shit is cool this week. Or rather because no one yet knows about it it’s cool, until you start talking about it treating it like your own little baby and telling people they’re daft because they don’t know about it. They don’t want to be known as daft so on the bandwagon they hop and because you went so nutto about it of course they’re going to like it – even if it is talentless. And they’ll tell 5 friends. It’s human nature. And now it’s cool. And now you hate it and so does your girlfriend because it’s what do you say?  ..“Sold out”?

Do you remember when Silverchair were those pimply little fuck ups at school (and they stole some kids music to write their first album) or Fall Out Boy or Oprah Winfrey god damn it!! She started in the slums and look where she is now, she’s a fucking empire! But now it’s not cool to like it anymore because it is cool. You can’t like Eminem, only for elitist principles of ‘writing talent’ or Usher’s dance moves, of course not for his mainstream music. You’ve got to view things so subjectively. You can’t like the product itself, because it is a product.

I hate it that you think this way. Surface value, or love, or straight out raw feelings are never enough. You’ve got to back everything up with a fact to bludgeon the criticism. So you might get this everywhere else, the ‘judging things makes me cooler’ bug but I will tell you one thing for nothing (I just had to include that.. I hate hate hate that saying!!), I’m not cool. Evidence? I’m single; only the cool, funny people get the dates.

I heard it’s cool to say you’re not cool but know that you are cool and to lead people to believe you are cool but don’t think you are but there’s so much pretense attached to that notion that I think I’d grow weary. Where’s the action in 23 hours cool prep and one hour on site? It’s like make-up… What’s the point when you’re going to cry it all off later when Tommy or whoever dumps you for Cindy.

So here it is. The Susie Profile:
The wheres and whens of Susie without the care or accord of anything you want or feel or will say. “Love me, or leave me or rip me apart….And if you don’t like it take a long walk off the shortest pier you can find”

I don’t read Goethe.
I don’t read published poetry, I can’t feel anything for that.
I won’t starve myself for want of a better body.
Nor will I ever have one.
Nor do I want one.
I can go unnoticed but I notice all.
I slip out of minds like phone numbers.
I carry my mobile but it can’t turn on.
I get bored of people acting fake
But I’ll let them try it on for size.
I am a semi-intellectual, rosy cheeked girl
Who conquers men the toughest men with wit and charm and intellect
And a bit of a smile etc.
I steal hearts.
I practically ooze confidence
Yet I do nothing other than sleep, eat, go to class and use the internet.
I don’t need friends to classify me,
Nor do I classify them.
First impressions last
Until you make the next impression.
I’m nothing special, but I am.
I giggle a lot, am serious.
Read not enough, write not enough.
Jane Eyre falls on deaf ears to me.
So does techno.

Boy meets girl.
Can you bank on love?
Can you pretend you're someone else?