Carny Style: Introduction Part I

Style is defined by being a particular type of appearance or character, a distinctive mode of acting, a mode of living with respect to expense or display, and an elegant, fashionable, luxurious mode of living.  It can certainly be argued whom or what determines these in a distinct enough manner that there are clearly defined lines as to what is or is not acceptable.  Considerations to personal aesthetic aside nor how confident one is, there are legitimate ‘rights’ and ‘wrongs’ when it comes to fashion as a whole.  Learning how to use garments to accentuate ones figure as opposed to disguising or hiding it behind unflattering cuts and spectacularly hideous accessories does not come easy, and I am certainly not any sort of expert on the subject.  However, I believe I knew enough that I can see the difference between fashion or personal style and poor costumes or nightmarish clusterfucks.

Before continuing, I want it to be clear that these are all of my personal opinions and should not be taken as an attack on anyone.  This is meant as entertainment and perhaps might even inspire others.  Photographs will be credited as much as possible, but if you see your work here and want it credited or removed, please just ask.

Victorian Circus Costumes

The history of circus costumes date back to the Victorian era, when corsets and long skirts were the norm and certainly were present on the female performers.  They evolved over decades to become more elaborate, brightly colored and covered in sequins.  Obviously these ostentatious artifacts were not dragged around the mud or worn during off hours, as they were specifically reserved for paying audiences.  It goes without saying then, that the performers and workers alike had their own way of dressing, which often spoke for their status among the community.  The American circus came to existence in the late 1800s and blossomed frequently for a number of decades, often spurring invention among the towns it visited.  Personally, I have no doubt the circus became its own culture, as it certainly exhibits the behaviors and beliefs of a particular social group.  Now I make it no secret that I consider the individuals of circus and sideshow to be Carnies, which describes those who lived and worked with either for an extended period of time.  Of course not everyone was born into such a lifestyle, however, I can argue that there are definitive guidelines for what does and does not equate to being one.  Stereotypes and bored kids playing dress up need not apply.  An interesting article on the history of circus costumes can be read here.

My aesthetic for personal style and stage presentation is based on a few solid concepts that can easily be found in a number of fashions.  Corsets, jackets with structured shoulders, striking geometric patterns, primary colors, flattering cuts and appropriate accessories are included in features that I draw inspiration from.  Each of these things are strong enough to stand on their own and can certainly form various looks.  Combined, they must be used suitably so as not to clash or have people mistakenly accuse you of wearing a trashy costume.  Much as the hot rod and custom car enthusiast agree on specific credentials that represent their societies, so too do I feel that I hold enough comprehension of the topics at hand to offer an insightful opinion.

 If we can all agree that Carnies are in fact a part of a culture, then I propose to take things a step further in suggesting that the display of certain items worn with respect and represent an individuals rank or accomplishment are significant enough so as not to be appropriated for the purpose of fashion.  Wearing a costume on stage is acceptable, as most performers carry a separate identity and are not making an attempt to portray something they are not.  However, if one is simply dressing up in what could be considered an offensive outfit, then I feel justified in pointing out these errors.  While people can defend their choices or invalidate my opinion, I stand firmly on facts and make no apologies.

Having said all of that, a new feature being added to this blog are articles that cover a few subjects that I repute as meeting the requirements for what best serves as examples of Carny Style, whether it is vintage costumes, modern wares or haute couture reserved for the elite Carny Trash Aristocracy.  The term itself is a complete oxymoron that counteracts the typical stereotypes that Carnies seem to be constantly accused of.  The idea is to present a refined version of personal style mixed with high fashion to create a juxtaposition of self-expressed art.  In effect, those who are exclusive to this level of the overall hierarchy are revered for their confidence and looked upon to properly represent the culture.  For example, many of the born freaks on display in sideshows were often decked out in the finest apparel of their time so as not to appear destitute or looked upon as unfortunate because of the way Nature made them.  It is a well-known fact they were among the highest paid performers, as were heavily tattooed men and women, which manifested in the guise they donned while on stage.

Once a week, a new article will feature various aspects of the things discussed here.  Style profiles will spotlight specific performers who serve as archetypes of Carny fashion, inspiration galleries display a collection of items that illustrate how to coordinate a classy appearance for specific occasions, along with the difference between what is acceptable versus what is just an extremely cheap costume, and tutorials on how to create hair and make-up to compliment specific outfits or themes.

Finally, if you make or sell any product that is relevant to this article and would like to have it reviewed, please feel free to contact me: lenorelovelace@gmail.com

Next Week’s Edition: Introduction Part II – what qualifies as Carny Style, how to properly put together a look and what my current personal style is.

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Lake Compounce Vacation

[Originally written 10.20.03]

The trip to Lake Compounce [Bristol, CT] definately lifted my mood.  The trip was just what I needed. The drive up wasn’t bad at all, about the same distance as Wildwood, and I certainly enjoyed all of the beautiful colors on the trees. We got a bit lost, but found our way with no problems.

After eating dinner in the hotel, we put on some gruesome make-up and headed for the park.  It was a pleasnt nite; not too cold or windy. It was good to see so many people in the early spirit of Halloween, dressed to the nines in their best costumes.  Silly rubes and their generic store bought outfits that look more like cartoons than fiends and ghouls.  Of course there were many heads that turned in our direction, as well as some comments, but what did we care?  Dressing up like the living dead – not really zombies, but just as gorey and creepy – is such a thrill.  People are genuinely scared of you even when you aren’t trying, and we love to laugh about how silly they can be.

The Boulderdash was an awesome ride.  There were no lights on it what so ever, and speeding thru the woods at approximately 60-70 MPH in the pitch black definately got our adrenaline going, tho I would have preferred the park to be a bit darker.

There was some ass-hat that was standing around holding fire and insulting patrons for not paying attentioin to him.  Weak.  Jon wanted to steal his torches and show him how it’s really done, but said that standing there and making an idiot of himself was just as funny.

Sunday we woke up and had ourselves a free breakfast buffet, then packed up and went back to his place where we smoked, ate and watched Carnivale.  Damn good episode, as always.  Was glad to see Ben finally used his powers, and I suspect something happened between Scudder and Ruthie, tho I’m not sure how that fits in with everything yet.  Knew Stumpy wouldn’t leave, but I was hoping he would.  His wife is such a bitch sometimes.  The whole side plot wit Brother Justin was a trip, and it was cool that he realizes that he has a gift.  Perhaps he will use it soon.  Don’t quite understand why Lodz hit Lila with his cane, but I’m sure the reasoning behind that will be revealed next week.

Tomorrow I am hoping to go into the City for a needle and jewelry, as my verticle labret is in need of piercing

Friday is Hallowen and I’ll be going to the parade in the Village with Jon, followed by drinking and haunting the streets like the obnoxious Jersey asshole Carnies we are.  Will be assembling costume and make-up during the day, which I have had planned out for quite some time now.  It’s nice to be excited about a day that supposed to be about having fun anyway, and of course I am happ that I can to spend it with an awesome friend.

Halloween Plans

[Originally written 10.20.03]

Saturday I woke up to find no one in the house. How nice that was, considering I could take a nice long shower without being paranoid and had time to fuss around with my make-up.

Arrived at Jon’s place around noon.  Immediately proceeded to smoke and consume food, then just sat and wrote for several hours.  Then we made ready for that evening’s festivities.  Every October we host sort of a haunted attraction in the Pine Barrens, which has been an Outlaw Cirkus tradition since they had first gotten together as a formal troupe.  In any event, we take the time to decorate a small portion of the woods that is accessable if you know your way around.  Mostly the local underground kids come out; a variety of punks, hobos, ‘billies and run-of-the-mill misfits, deviants and random scumfucks.  Hey, that’s what they call themselves, and while usually they don’t have the best reputation, they give us no trouble and are welcome to spend their money.

The preparation isn’t too bad, but the decorating takes a lot of time.  There are a couple of people who help out with the scares and all, tho the sideshow is the main attraction.  For these shows, Jon and I perform only the most dangerous stunts, which can reach a point of being stupid.  The Wall of Death pretty much defines that category, but I have come to terms with trusthing that he knows what he is doing.  Death defying daredevil has no fear – so he says.

This year the theme was old-timey medicine shows and their penchant of hawking snake oil to the rubes.  Jon has an excellent pinstriped red suit for the occasion, along with a vintage straw hat and bamboo cane.  He even managed to find a pair of blue suede boots and pulls out the twang in his voice to the point you would never know he’s from Jersey.  The show he puts on is impeccable, and I make it no secret that I love watching this.  People hang on every syllable that leaves his lips; they would gladly follow him like lambs to the slaughter house.  He entertains, charms and takes thier money while they laugh, smile and thank him for it.

My opinion of myself is less enthusiastic, but Jon assures me that I always play my role well.  For this, it’s to give my trust completely as he uses my skin.  Being a human pincushion really gets to people, because they don’t understand why someone would willing insert sharp objects into seemingly painful places on their body.  To lend yourself to someone else’s hands takes the act a step further, but I never worry about injury.  However, that is nothing compared to the final presentation of the evening.

It is something brutal, gruesome and carries the ability to make grown adults grow pale at the sight of.  In fact, I don’t even want to put the words here because I don’t know whose eyes may be looking.  However, I will say that Jon playing the role of the Geek is one to never be forgotten.  People have screamed and fainted, some make remark that it’s cool or gross, but all will remember what they have seen.

When all that was over, I knew we wouldn’t do anything more than smoke before climbing into bed and falling asleep, so I wasn’t disappointed when we did exactly that.  Wanted to wake up and watch Carnivale agan, but it’s not a big deal that I missed doing so.

Sunday was more of the same and left us both feeling slightly drained.  Since things were over by early evening, we made dinner together and enjoyed sitting down to eat it.  Then we smoked and relaxed watching television. 

The new episode of Carnival did not dissapoint.  The whole sequence wit Ben in the battle field was majorly confusing, especially when he ran into Lodz who had his vision.  Wondering why Ben didn’t tell him what he saw.  The beginning where they show why Jonesy limps was pretty awesome, and I was surprised when Brother Justin got up and left.  That radio broadcast of his story was great, and of course, carnival justice is the shit, hands down.  At first I couldn’t believe that they just let the guy go, but of course Samson got him in the end  The next episode will hopefully make some sense out of this one, and of course I am looking forward to seeing it.

At some point in the evening, we decided to go on vacation the following weekend.  Arrangements have been made.  We will be heading up to Lake Compounce in Connecticut for their Halloween event.  It’s cool because you get to dress in full costume, and this place is deep in the woods.  The one roller coaster they have actually cuts thru the trees, and I cannot wait to go on that son of a bitch in the dark.  It shall be fun.   He suggested breaking Rule #1*, which while flattering was totally unexpected and met with uncomfortable silence.  We are set to leave early Saturday, so I guess I will be staying over on Friday. 

Tomorrow at some point during my outing, I will make use of the money Jon gve me to buy a new multi-purpose skirt.

*Rule #1: There will be no sex in the champagne room.

Sideshow Obession Grows

[Originaly written 10.7.03]

The mind wanders still.  Is it any wonder?

Dreams are bizarre and muddled, often a clusterfuck of ideas, thoughts and visions that don’t necessarily make sense, but must have some sort of meaning to even be there.  Once I was in the circus, and the colors were so vivid I could have sworn I wasn’t dreaming.  Once I was with a well-known sideshow performer [nameless here to protect myself] and we were on stage together.

While I don’t believe in luck, I believe in coincidences and fate; I believe everything happens for a reason, but that we aren’t meant to always understand why.  There is no doubt that my exposure to circus and carnivals as a kid piqued my natural curiosity and drove me to want more.  My Dad even said that he took me to the aquarium out on Coney Island, but I was likely too young to remember.  There is a vauge vision of penguins, but certainly not any memory of the Cyclone.

Is it really a surprise that I am still interested in these things now?  Or could it be that I am finally going over the edge to that blissful point of no return?

While I could say that I have lost my mind, it would be a severe understatement of the obvious.

Hibernation is on the menu for Winter.  The past few months have been filled with great adventures with my best friend.  Even tho I do not always mention it, we have performed together a lot, which does nothing more than fuel my desire to continue down this path.  Maybe Jon is a bad influence, but so far I haven’t done anything that I didn’t really want to.  The feelings I get when we are on stage together are none I can put into words, which accounts for the reason I have lacked in documenting these events.  Then again, the memories will last me a lifetime and that’s all I really need.

However, lately I cannot help but notice Jon’s behavoir, which is evidence of his continued drug use.  It certainly is not my place to play the motherly role to someone who is older than I am, but of course there is concern because I love him and wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him.  Winter does something to him, and I know it’s because he has no desire to even acknowledge the holiday season.  His parents are dead, his relatives are dead and the Family we once shared is dead.  He has friends but is not close with them; I know that I am the most important person in his life, but for the past couple of years I was dating and had to oblidge doing holdiay things.

There has been much thinking, about Jon, sideshow and a variety of other things that tend to leave me feeling overwhelmed.  That’s when I usually come the conclusion of wanting to just say fuck it all and go away for a while.

Time to get the sideshow together and push harder than we have before.  There is no way I will ever suffer in a corporate environment where I’d be sucked dry of my personality and freedom for some monetary compensation, which most likely would be pissed away while I make the excuse that it’s my money and I can spend it any way I want.  That is never going to happen to me, because I am better than a mindless robot.

Also, I know what makes me happy, and that is more important than being ‘responsible’ and becoming a corporate slave.  There isn’t enough money to convince me that giving up myself is worth the meager reward.  Besides, I am taking care of myself in every other way possible, which I would like to see other do for themselves.  It’s so easy to have parents and friends there to coddle you and bend to your whims, but I am not that kind of person nor do I need to prove anything to anyone.

What is a girl to do?  Having sawdust in your veins ought to count for something.  How I dream of a carnival blowing into town to take me away from all of this dismal bullshit.

At least having Jon makes these things seem less insane, but the distance between us gets annoying.  Being in E-town or at my mom’s house makes me feel like he is worlds away.  Every time we lose touch for a while, I get bogged down by paranoid thoughts and cry because I want him there for me when I am feeling depressed.  He is my outlet for things I tell no one else, simply due to the fact he offers comfort in the simplest ways that carry so much meaning.

The stories he has of growing up in the carnival are highly fascinating and could have me listen to him talk for hours.  They usually come up at random, spurred on by consuming drugs but that’s what makes them come to life.  Okay, and maybe I really enjoy his strange accent.  The point is, there are times when I can see a sadness in his eyes and a longing for a life that was dramatically changed when he was just 13 years-old.  There is no way I can imagine what it’s like to watch your father get murdered and not understand why, nor what that kind of event can to to a young man.  Certainly it leaves an ugly scar, one which I know Jon continues to bury under drugs and alcohol.

When we are performing, he is an entirely different person.  His focus is on delivering the best entertainment possible, and that is what has kept people talking.  At times he apologizes for speaking to me in a firm manner, but I know it’s because he wants me to stay focused and be the best performer I can.  There is no doubt we both love what we do, but I still see him struggling with things he would prefer not to speak about, and that tears me up inside because I don’t know how to help him.  Which just leaves me conflicted and prone to giving him space since I don’t want my caring to be overbearing.

The sideshow is where we both belong tho, and I am determined to keep him on that path.  It fills him with happiness that I know he appreciates and maybe even needs.  Give us a colorful canvas, painted sideshow banners waving in the wind and a floor made out of dirt.  We have freaks, wonders and human curiosities, the likes of which no one has ever seen.

This is what makes me feel on top of the world, and I want him there with me.

Starting to Feel Like Fall

[Originally written 10.3.03]

Personally, I love Fall and Winter.  True, it gets cold – especially in Jersey – but I will take cold over hot any day.  When you’re cold, you can snuggle up in some nice warm covers or maybe even with a loved one.  When it’s hot, what can you do but suffer?

Anyway, I simply enjoy putting on my nice, heavy Winter clothes, making sure to have plenty of layers, and of course it’s the perfect time to wear my leather jacket, then eventually the trench when it gets colder.

The wardrobe must start to improve because I am sick to death of all that I have.  Most of it is leftover from going clubbing every weekend, and while some items are alright for general purpose outings, I feel that a lot of my clothes fall short of the way I want to represent myself.  Suffice to say that I want to “tone it down” a bit.  Perhaps I can even label it as being more “conserative”. Now let us not confuse this with the corporate drone fashion.  It’s just that I dream of my closet to be full of knee-length skirts, swing dresses, petticoats, button-down blouses, boleros, well-fitted suit jackets and things of that sort.  Everything red, blue or black of course, as I wouldn’t dare abandon my colors.

While I have visited these thoughts before, the current inspiration came from my trip to the City yesterday.  After sitting in an extreme amount of traffic, I finally made it to Newark where I met up with Jon and hopped on the Path.  We had an interesting conversation with some random person who was intrigued by our appearance.  Jon always makes a good show when we go out, and most of the time he just puts the effort into being well-groomed and has a clean set of clothes on.  For certain occasions, particularly performing, there is another side to a man most would assume is just another run-of-the-mill tattooed delinquent.  When playing the role of the talker, he is dressed in the finest suit, crisp shirt, silk tie and matching pocket square, shoes that alwasy look freshly shined and an attitude befitting a proud Carny; everything is bold colors of the primary range.

On this particular evening, he was in blue jeans with perfect cuffs that set off his red snakeskin boots, a black cowboy shirt with soft yellow piping, black leather sports jacket and shallow waves glistened in his dirty blond hair.  In short, he looked gorgeous as always and I had to keep from blubbering all over myself with glee.  My outfit was much less stunning: a simple black skirt and red button-down blouse; black fishnets, comfortable low-heeled black leather boots and black denim jacket.  Not as colorful as I would have liked, but I suppose I compensated for that with the make-up.

Anyway, by the time we got off the train it was ten after seven, and we were at the end of West 25th street.  The event we were attending was Marie Robert’s exhibit of sideshow banners, and I did not want to be late.  How we managed to walk those ten [or perhaps more] blocks in only twenty mintues is beyond me, but we made it to the gallery at 7:30 on the dot.  Jon convinced me to take a stroll around the block, where we smoked half a joint because he said I should relax.  He is my voice of reason and I am so glad that I had invited him to join me that evening.

There were a lot of people milling around inside, including two individuals I had the sideshow class with.  A couple of women insisted on taking our picture because they liked the way we looked, and while I thought it was kind of strange, we were was happy to oblidge.  Spoke to Adam [one of my fellow graduates] for a while about the whole sword swallowing thing, and he suggested that I just concentrate when practicing.  He also said that none of the swords he bought were over $20, which is good news for someone who doesn’t have a steady income.   Then again, Jon did hint that perhaps I will have one sooner than I expect.

For most of the evening, we wandered around the gallery to admire the lovely banners, entertaining conversation as they were thrown our way.  Free wine and food were a bonus, but I was just happy to be there supporting an art I love.  Withouth really thinking about it, Jon and I had our arms linked pretty much the entire time, which got people to assume we were dating or whatever.  Not like that bothers me, but my friend is just a gentleman and knows how to treat me well.  He makes me feel spoiled and does nothing more than show me kindness.  Overall, I always enjoy anything we are doing, even if it’s just being in each other’s company.

Tyler Fyre performed a few acts, but unfortunately when he lit his torches, the smoke detector went off and that was the end of the reception.

Somehow we managed to get lost on the way back to the PATH, partly due to smoking the other half of that joint and because smart me decided to walk down 9th street instead of going back the way we came.  At some point we came across a film crew; lights, cameras, actors and all that other good stuff.  Which meant that we had to go around and then I was unsure of where we were.  Fortunately Jon knows the City so well that we found our way, and he thought it was cute that I wanted to take charge in leading us back to the PATH station.  Needless to say I am not the best navigator when stoned but at least I made him laugh.

The point I was getting to, is that the divine miss Angelica was there as well, and I just really admired the way she was dressed.  Classy is a good way to define it.  Sure, there was a time when I enjoyed making my apperance as obnoxious as possible because I wasn’t taking myself seriously, but that was then and this is now.  In some way, I always knew that eventually I would let my mods speak for themselves and dress more appropriately because it fucks with people’s heads.  That’s what Jon does, and when I saw Angelica I understood why.  Not saying that she wore specific clothes for the same reason he did, but rather served as an exmaple of the way I would like to come across to people.  As Jon said, the true nature of Carny style is defined by the individual and is not something that can be bought.  The inspiration has been flowing since that nite, and I am so glad that I had the opportunity for such a wonderful experience.

Earlier today I was just randomly driving, and while out on route 80 there was this spontaneous rain.  It was cool, because the sky was blue everywhere else except this one spot.  Anyway, I saw a rainbow and thought it was pretty neat, as it’s not something I see often.  It wasn’t a full arch, just part of one, as the rest went into the clouds.  Tho this might sound stupid, it made me smile when I needed to.

Crossing ‘the Line’

[Originally written 9.24.03]

Much thought has gone into this decision, inspired by reading several experiences of people who have already gone that extra mile.

What I am speaking of is facial tattoos. It is public skin and no matter what, for the rest of your existence, one of the first things people see when they look at you will be the ink on your face.

The idea came to me months ago, but I wanted to sleep on it for a while, just to make absolutely sure that this is something I would be comfortable doing.  After all, it’s not like I can go back and decide that I don’t want tattoos on my face.

The first step to take is having my eyebrows tattooed, which I have wanted to do since May.  It would be a nice b-day gift [tho that’s not for a few months yet], and it would be my very first facial tattoo, thus crossing that invisible line of “acceptable” modifications.

In my heart, I really believe that I am ready for this.  It’s only a small step in regards to the rest of the ink I have planned for my head, neck and face, but it is a giant leap compared to everything else I currently have.  In retrospect, it will be the second “extreme” mod I have gotten [having my fore arms piecred was the first], and it is something that will make me very happy.

True, I will miss drawing the eyebrows on in different ways, but once they are tattooed I will never have to put them on again.  This will come in handy if I just want to throw on some foundation, eyeliner and mascara to go out.  Overall, I see this as something I will be happy with for the rest of my life.  However, I want to be absolutely sure and find an artist who has enough talent not to make it look like I drew on some angry ‘brows with a sharpie.  Until then, I’ll just keep using make-up and dreaming of what could be.

Late Nite Thoughts

[Originally written 9.23.03]

There is no denying the recent influx of things sideshow related and the mentions of Jon being my parnter in crime along with, shall we say, complications that arise from us spending time together.

To make things clear, I know that I am still friends with the Asshole and we share intimate moments.  We have been this way over four years now, and despite everything [even times where shit got really bad] he is still a friend.  He is there for me when all others have gone their own path,  but I do question at what cost.  By now, I am well aware that it is a very strange situation and will say no more this time around.

There remains the undeniable fact that I need more.  My heart yearns for someone who understands my need to perform, as well as my thoughts of crossing that line into the small population of self-made [self-inflicted if you will] sideshow freaks.  That’s not to say I couldn’t get along with people who aren’t into tattoos, piercings and other body modifications, but there are things that I cannot possibly explain to people who don’t get it.  Sure, they may lend an ear, but in their head it’s “When the fuck is she gonna shut up about this already?”

To be honest, I don’t expect everyone to be into what I’m doing, or to even fully understand my reasoning..

This is why I relate to the one person in my life who does, but he comes and goes so much that there is a lot of confusion over where our relationship stands.  He is someone who constantly motivates me and appreciates any of my accomplishments.  Someone who takes me out to celebrate because I just swallowed a 20″ piece of steel or I got the screwdriver in my nose.

Perhaps my belly-aching is in vain and no one gives a shit.  Then again, I can’t help but feel that there is an emptiness inside; a void which only a certain person can fill.  Until then, I will say whatever I want because I’m not expecting anything from anyone.  Sometimes I just like to get the words out instead of allowing emotions to get the better of me, since they tend to cause me to act in an irrational manner.  It’s just hard when I have so many feelings and my friend isn’t always around to help me sort them out.

When I went to the Brothers Grimm show in Seaside and I saw the World’s Strangest Couple [Katzen and Enimga], a part of me sighed romantically and thought “Isn’t that just the greatest?” Here are two people who are heavily tattooed, and I’m sure they go out on dates just like ‘normal’ people.  When Enigma performed gavage – that is, the act of running a tube into the stomach, pumping fluids in and then out again – upon deposting the liquids from his stomach into a container, Katzen grabbed it chugged like a champ, a smile lit up my face as I thought “Now that’s love.”

Suffice to say I would be so happy if I found someone who wanted to drink liquid that was pumped in and out of my stomach.  Someone who gets aroused when I swallow that deadly blade, and not because of it’s sexual undertones, but rather due to the act itself.

Then, as usual, there comes the reminder about my partner in crime.  A talker who can get people to see the show twice without even realizing it until it’s too late.  Someone to get coked up with and head out to the Shore where we can just be totally uninhibited.   Someone that would be my enforcer, should someone fuck with me – or if they already have.  Someone to protect me and yet not control me.  Someone as spontaneous as I am who would go driving just for the fuck of it.  Someone to perform with, so as to share the incredible high of being on stage.  Someone out of the ordinary, above this mass of flesh I see on a daily basis.

A girl can dream, but fantasies – no matter how healthy – do come to an end, and the bitter reality hurts more than you want people to know.
 
Then in the end, I smack myself for lamenting when I know I have someone that qualifies for just about everything I want.  Why is it so hard for me to just tell him that?  What is the worst thing that could happen?

We share so many common interests and life goals that it’s almost ridiculous.  He has taught me so much in the short amount of time that we have been friends, there are moments where it feels as tho we have always been this way.  No one else cares for me the way he does, but I can sense a distance between us, which manifests when he goes on adventures. 

 Do I feel offended?  Not really, seeing as how he tells me that I am part of the reason he always comes back to Jersey. 

 Do I feel abandonded?  At times, yes, because of the things that I am around when it seems like there is no escape.

Should I just stop being a coward?  Most likely, but I am not really good at expressing myself and my feelings, even to someone I am comfortable with when I am around them. 

Things will go on as they have, but I know that they will get better.