lowfashion presents: success is communicative by brian scott

Success is communicative. I've driven towards and away from things so many times and I always think that I am going somewhere new. And these "new" places are rugged, hikeable places with stairs built into the rock. Air is dry and feels like television. Of course, everything feels like television now… "All houses dream in blueprints. My house has dreamed so hard." Several years ago, my house died: warped glass, chipped wood, three-legged chairs, etc. And all that time passed in two days. I never had a chance to say goodbye. No, I don't really want to die - I only want to die in your eyes. And you are still here. Thanks. Again, I find myself perpetuating an action, a motion, the air (dry air), and certainty. Certainty is sometimes found to be somewhat of a foul beast. "Cherish" is a lame word. I've walked down the wrong halls, but I've never crossed the wrong rivers. To b e honest, I've believed for several years now that I am not the same person that I was several years ago. People I know, friends, and their friends, know me a little. Fact: they look into my eyes but they only see as far as their own reflections. They think that I am like them. Who are they? Everyone sees himself in the eyes of another. I hate it when I feel a passionate tension - wild silence - true passion in the eyes of a person, and I have no idea what it is for. I long to relate. I need to relate. My passion must be matched, Mary Elizabeth. I look for it in the eyes of strangers and T.V. stars. A glimpse is enough and then I am fallen. To crave. To fall. These are the names of the stairs that lead to a solid passion. To perpetuate. To die: "chalk lines around my body, like the shoreline of a lake," or, "on the last day of your life, don't forget to die." The roof caves in, I see only youin your eyes. Where am I? The air is no longer so dry - the windows have been modernized. New. I dream more often than I think. Dreaming of the time when I could read lips - eyes weren't so valuable then. I'll climb the rock's stairs until I find myself in the reflection of the desert sun. To relate. To dream. Exception. Elucidation. It is January of nineteen ninety-nine and I am ready to accelerate. Because everything feels like television now. See.

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