Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Personal Fashion and Vices

Personal Fashion

I'm not a fashion buff obviously. Most of my shirts and pants are wrinkled, stained (mostly mustard and coffee stains), covered in cat hair, missing zippers or buttons, and are probably home to undiscovered biological life while my shoes have many holes to prominently show everyone that my socks don't match. This slop fest is then enclosed in a giant black tortilla called a trench coat. In general, I pretty much have had the same wardrobe since high school with a few tweaks. For instance, I wear less shirts with funny phases on it like "Don't let me get my flying monkeys", and I've also thrown away most of my iconic fast food branded t-shirts after realizing that nobody goes to bed with someone labeled Taco Bell. Furthermore, I completely removed myself from the Crocs line of shoes which might be one of the smartest decisions in my life. Not that I don't think they are comfortable, but the fact that no style of that shoe is attractive - yeah, definitely not the ones with fur on it. Actually, if I ever discover a volcano, I'm dedicating it to all the UGG boots and Crocs of the world. It will have a sign on the bottom that reads "Step up to the volcano edge, take off your shoes, throw them in and start increasing your chances of getting laid." The volcano would also be named Helga and have a Dippin Dots ice cream stand because your future life without those feet dwellers should start with futuristic ice cream.


Vices

I got to start remembering that a glass of wine is not a bottle. There's something to this; everything seems simple and usually leads to something more complex. A heartbeat leads to a stroke, or more simply life leads to death. A perfect example of chaos. Vices temporarily remove us from this conclusion or maybe guides us to some kind of compromise. Its job is two-fold: to keep us from fully understanding the fucked up situations we take on or maybe make sense of them. But how many cigarettes do we have to smoke till life comes into full focus? How many drugs are needed to produce something we can accept? Everything manifests into a form that is unique to us and it is our job to interpret it. Narcotics, alcohol, and promiscuous sex can only take us down so many paths, with each road engaging new ideas or fables while truth slowly reveals itself, whispering around every bend. Consequently, you know deep-down that a fire starts from a spark, burns with a hot heat, and ends in embers. Each story a drawing board that illustrates nothing significant and is easily erasable. Divination might be the answer. Knowing that the feelings or words we want to say have no future. Maybe, it's drowning thoughts that make the most sense sometimes, and it's vices that keeps them from floating to the surface.

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