Let the sunshine in.

Oh, I say!  Careful, young Cheever, what thou purses thy lips in pursuit thereof, or to wit, you may not want what you get when you finally get it.  The pursuit, some find often times is more titillating than the actual enjoyment of the having of a thing.

I will thus commit to a new arc in frustration of the Hairspray revival of some other groups, which I come across with innocent eyes, but become more and more suspicious, even to the point of loathing.

The programmed February that I went through, my own words peppering me like bird shot, then dingling on the floor like pennies, I was first to forecast nothing happening, but oh how much machinery was in the works, the this and that.  Somewhere in there senior dance news was hitting the scene, and that was another empty socket, a memory I could not recall because I didn't participate in my own back in the day.

Indeed I was kind of pushed away by my own echoes, and that's where I get online today, ranting about defying sin-consciousness.  But anyway, then I said I would have an 18 pack, get buzzed and go to sleep.  On the actual lover's day, I had a blood glucose problem, needed a sugar hit, got that, then, depleted, I went home(without the beer) and slept for 17 hours.

There were two peaks, one obviously being the day of lovers, mentioned above.

There was another peak, though, that was on another sort of calendar, one of those, "the expected fallout" kind of deals, where there is an "equal and opposite reaction".  More perfect strangers laughing in my face, and me, at the time, too embarrassed at the time to be killing mad about it.

Then I swore some stranger made an analogy where I was referred to as a "spare tire".

And what kind of velvet-lined stupid prison is that supposed to be?   And since then, less than that, kept away and misunderstood but yelling when I feel up to it.  "Oh," I'm thinking, "I'm extra".  "How nice".  I'll just sit home and read a book while my biological clock slows down in my ears.

Anyway, there is a movie that explains the relationship as I see it, a trilogy of movies in fact, and in the movie, my persona gets destroyed, the result of which restores normalcy to the world.  

Cue the pretty sunrise.

A bit of a vague point is the origin of the character, and even a true definition of what the character really happens to be.  And I'm thinking, "is that me?"  Consider the following: a vast backtrail of my online history on display in a public place, literally, being used as cues and markers for people that literally seem to laugh in my face.  They say I'm Mexican.  Sometimes(even though I have begun to self-identify as Guatemalan).

Question: if I officially renounce US citizenship, would I have to have special papers to be in country?

But there are analogs and overlap between the principles in the movie.  Anyway, I'm gonna have to watch those three films again to try and get it straight once and for all, as to whether I was the villain or the hero or the love interest or what.  Nevertheless, I saw something of my own struggle(Mein Kampf) in the movies.  And yet, another "entity", and having seen the analog with my own eyes, I think the story is quite told wrong, but enough superficial similarity to call the thing up in mind.

And where am I going with this?

You ever been "in" a movie?

 Imagine me, pushing the "play" button.  The movie begins: "it ends tonight", and a chill goes up my spine because what it would mean to me, even though the whole work is a bunch of hooey.  They call the effect "the suspension of disbelief".  And my character is literally knocked out of existence.  And I'm like, "wait, I thought I was the hero in the first movie, and here I just got kilt, then everybody watches the sunrise with big smiles".