how to...die a housewife.
i won't ask whys.
...i wouldn't iron clothes, i wouldn't shine shoes, i wouldn't make the bed,
i wouldn't cook the food, i'm not familiar with the concept of "never cheat",
still, i'm the best person one could probably meet...
...tja. reversing lyrics for an appropriate intro only, of course i would cook. but that's not the only reason why i'd deserve the title "desperate housewife" lately. shocking: i didn't leave my own 4 walls the past 6 days, nurturing my pain and wailing with nothing but a book and water o.t. rocks.
....sounds peculiar?
i don't know why most people picture me like a modern anita berber [sorry, english speaking people, may i introduce you....!] born slippy 80 years later, living it up in the land of milk and honey, with my mouth wide open for flying pigeons, dancing til the sunrise with no sleep at all, bathing in champagne, being regularly seduced - together with the boys upstairs - by a lady dressed in green with strong perfume....
....people confront me with their picture of me: cherishing the life style of a suicide girl, just without tattoos [long-term commitment? eternity? OMG!!]; lavishing time either between a brother and a sister in darkrooms [friday? aber musst du nicht demnächst post-magistralisch die hucke in meiner anwesenheit weg-komatösen?] or strolling from disco to disco, spending too much money on water; coloring nails and lips red, packing hip flask and ambiguous attitude to fly out with the 2 other protagonists of the blackbird trinity [a label matching with our appearance, yes, but of course the original german "amsel" attains distinction from a former minimization of my name, now referring to all 3 of us, mire, ewe and vere]...
yeah, hm, well, a-hem, yes.
...if there are, apparently, photos existing, and i just picked the innocent ones, maybe the signifier is congruent with the signified after all: i am the picture others have!
another picture that exists in several different prints: me, in the middle of significant monetary troubles.
just today [my first day out after monday's surgery, which left me with only 23 + 4 half wisdom teeth and seams all over my palate] i was part of a serious fight between 2 strong antagonists: my purse and a shelf full of tempting 30s style lingerie. certainly none of your business, but let me take this mnemonic back to the headline "housewife":...my last thought before i faint on the battlefield was smth like: "fuck it, at least i feel empowered and self-confident when i face my bank clerk next week!" i wake up with a little paper bag, and a huge headache...shopping hangover? i decide that my purple-yellow-swollen left cheek is to blame, and its evil, literally defacing existence justifies the slaughter of a credit card account.
...rushing back home, somehow uncomfortable with my current looks of an abused matron. a suchlike existence is not part of my agenda of course, i'd rather kill me as a housewife than die as one....
probably i'd kill myself with the same knife i am applying the cream cheese icing onto 35 little banana fairy cakes in this very moment, wearing my frilly apron and a flowery headscarf to avoid hairs on the topping.
a picture of the week, but definitely no picture of the left cheek. quel visage, quel dommage!
but calculate this: tooth gap + nose + eye color + ruffled thatch + writing blog entries as opaque as engimatic incantations = seems i'm prepared for walpurgis already.
...i wouldn't iron clothes, i wouldn't shine shoes, i wouldn't make the bed,
i wouldn't cook the food, i'm not familiar with the concept of "never cheat",
still, i'm the best person one could probably meet...
...tja. reversing lyrics for an appropriate intro only, of course i would cook. but that's not the only reason why i'd deserve the title "desperate housewife" lately. shocking: i didn't leave my own 4 walls the past 6 days, nurturing my pain and wailing with nothing but a book and water o.t. rocks.
....sounds peculiar?
i don't know why most people picture me like a modern anita berber [sorry, english speaking people, may i introduce you....!] born slippy 80 years later, living it up in the land of milk and honey, with my mouth wide open for flying pigeons, dancing til the sunrise with no sleep at all, bathing in champagne, being regularly seduced - together with the boys upstairs - by a lady dressed in green with strong perfume....
....people confront me with their picture of me: cherishing the life style of a suicide girl, just without tattoos [long-term commitment? eternity? OMG!!]; lavishing time either between a brother and a sister in darkrooms [friday? aber musst du nicht demnächst post-magistralisch die hucke in meiner anwesenheit weg-komatösen?] or strolling from disco to disco, spending too much money on water; coloring nails and lips red, packing hip flask and ambiguous attitude to fly out with the 2 other protagonists of the blackbird trinity [a label matching with our appearance, yes, but of course the original german "amsel" attains distinction from a former minimization of my name, now referring to all 3 of us, mire, ewe and vere]...
yeah, hm, well, a-hem, yes.
...if there are, apparently, photos existing, and i just picked the innocent ones, maybe the signifier is congruent with the signified after all: i am the picture others have!
another picture that exists in several different prints: me, in the middle of significant monetary troubles.
just today [my first day out after monday's surgery, which left me with only 23 + 4 half wisdom teeth and seams all over my palate] i was part of a serious fight between 2 strong antagonists: my purse and a shelf full of tempting 30s style lingerie. certainly none of your business, but let me take this mnemonic back to the headline "housewife":...my last thought before i faint on the battlefield was smth like: "fuck it, at least i feel empowered and self-confident when i face my bank clerk next week!" i wake up with a little paper bag, and a huge headache...
...rushing back home, somehow uncomfortable with my current looks of an abused matron. a suchlike existence is not part of my agenda of course, i'd rather kill me as a housewife than die as one....
probably i'd kill myself with the same knife i am applying the cream cheese icing onto 35 little banana fairy cakes in this very moment, wearing my frilly apron and a flowery headscarf to avoid hairs on the topping.
a picture of the week, but definitely no picture of the left cheek. quel visage, quel dommage!
but calculate this: tooth gap + nose + eye color + ruffled thatch + writing blog entries as opaque as engimatic incantations = seems i'm prepared for walpurgis already.
mironja - 24. Feb, 09:01
