No more deep integration

I remember Richie. They called him "stinky". He was tarred with it, because of a septic fuckup under the floor of his alloted dormitory. Also probably because he had an acid reflux problem, and was forced to burp nastily every few minutes, so everyone assumed he was some sort of scumfuck who grossed people out for kicks. I remember this fat bald crackhead threatening Rich with ass-rape if the state of affairs continued. Assume makes an ass out of u and me. Well, mostly u. But it makes me a dirt-bag. But I'm used to that. It's the one thing I learned in middle school.

Rich was tarred and feathered. Maybe that's why he was my friend. Lord, I try to stick with the right kind of people, the kind who have figured out at an early age that you can suck in plenty of oxygen and nitrogen through your mouth, while easily ignoring the nasal cavity. It's righteous! How simple and natural it can be to filter out those pesky molecules of olfactory significance through a little tweak of the lungs. So then, if your pristine industry-standard perception is so offended, you can simply shut it out, and shut your trap, and not have to bitch. And everything will be so much cooler. Yes, I seem to jive with those kinds of people, although it's been so long since I've been in jive talking company that I almost forgot what jiving is, or what it feels like. Yes, I try to stick with those folks tarred with circumstance, maybe tarbabies of happenstance, who maybe happen to dance with this coincidence instead of pro-actively performing a complicated kabuki for entry into level one, of society. But I still get stuck in these paranoid yuppie bourgeois sinkholes on quite a regular basis.

At all costs, I've avoided the admission that I'm in the middle of a stupid schoolgirl-type freedom vs security drama. Blech. But I can't get out, until I acknowledge the situation. Yes. Now what? Well, I'll tell you what not. No more deep integration, if it can be avoided. Yeah. And c'est la vie, let the critics be. Let them point out the hypocrisy I'm already aware of, on a level they can't imagine. Imagination is rather spare, in the burbs, where you say you're dirt poor, for the novelty of sympathy. Man, I miss the people that don't judge me, I forgot how cool that was. How cool anything was.