johnatthebar

When you are scribing your observations while the person under the microscope if next to you (and maybe your bride to be's mother, ya know, hypothetically), you tend to be more articulate.

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The minced ramblings of the insolent strike as means of power to the proprietor but fall as a mere annoyance to those in the position to realize that if it is power one must probe for, their grants will be only as significant as their methods of compensation for an uncomfortable and awkward presence. An ear hapless enough to fall prey to such a soul feels obligated to continue their part of the faade as to avoid an uncomfortable moment where said contemptuous bellicosity is revealed to be little more than a result of neglected or deflated past parental charity. In this way, a psyche driven to control with hedonistic like needs is ultimately allowed to win despite the fracas.

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So its an hour after I wrote the above bitchery. My apologies to myself (for no one else reads this) but I am down. Tomorrow Larissa leaves for Brazil, bright and early in the morning I must say goodbye to her for the longest (by far) we have been apart since our first kiss. This sucks. I hope she has a wonderful time, catches up with her family, relaxes, but I for one am feeling left very much in awe of how much I love, need, appreciate, and adore her. Somebody come play with me? I need to pass the time. Monopoly? Shots? Cuddle? All three?