work's been a blast. thank you, guys, for being so supportive of this new life. i could break down my recent life into the good and the bad, but whatever for? all i know is that we're given a life that can't be all just fun and games nor just pain and darkness. there ought to be a healthy mix.
am writing because i got an interesting email from rachelle, who's set to graduate from her lofty atenean hill and move into the world armed with her writing machine. it was a surreal interview, asking me about how it was to have been AM's mistress. it was real and yet it wasn't. it was as if i was talking about someone else, or as if i had seen this in a movie, or yet read it somewhere, but i just wasn't sure if i had dreamed it, perhaps, and in a previous life, too. i feel like a model moving languidly through a fog machine, wearing nothing but the flimsiest negligee, eyes smeared with gothic eyeliner and lips in that immovable pout. i'm trying hard to hear the music over the loudspeakers. aaah, there you have it. techno. it's got to be techno. lounge music with orientalised ambient beats. that's it. i smear gob on my legs to make them look sleek and shiny.
if it's one thing this life taught me, dear rachelle, it was to look good for your man. do the things that were bound to turn him on in your brief moments together. that leg routine certainly helped. one day, i'd like to meet you and your teacher, the one for whose class you wrote about my kind of life. one day, rachelle. we'll see each other yet.
