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2011-11-13 - 1:28 p.m.

esse quam videri

i was warned that you might be a fairweather friend, but there you were, lashed to the mizzenmast throughout the whole debacle.

you've become unmistakeable in those frayed t-shirts from geology clubs and past field camps, shorts in all seasons and at all occasions, the hoodie that started out black but faded to a blotchy purplish-grey. there's the jut of your chin, broad stance and arms akimbo.

it's true you're a prickly motherfucker, but people would probably take you better if you dressed more seriously. in a hacking jacket with elbow patches, khakis, an oxford and saddle bucks, you'd not only rock the tweedy professorial look, but also look like the scholar you are. and yet you insist on dressing like a couch-surfing mendicant, forcing people to look past the surface.

perhaps the question is fundamentally epistemological. how can we know the nature of reality when we only have immediate access to appearances?

i want to dress you up like a paper doll. i want to wipe that lost and desperate look from your eyes.

* * *

reading: the light in between, by marella caracciolo chia
listening to: 90s bubblegum pop.
working on: proofreading.
in the garden: i've started planting the spring-blooming bulbs.

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