jacktellslies

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On the worst of days, while enmeshed in the more crushing aspects of toil and drudgery, I like to attempt to incite class war. It lies somewhere between a joke, catharsis, and the smallest hope that my compatriots will join me and we can free ourselves from the evils of capitalism by savagely and gleefully unleashing hell. Recently, however, I was asked how a gentleman such as myself should behave during a good riot. Allow me to offer a few brief examples:

1. "Pardon me, sir. I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to light your place of business on fire. If you'd be so kind as to step outside?"

2. "Madam, my quarrel is not with you, but with the class system which divides us, which, here, is represented by the glass of your window. Would you be so kind as to move aside while I heave this rather large rock?"

Current Mood: tired

Class feels like this impenetrable divide. It is not, I don't think, that I cannot bridge the gap, but that it is difficult to maintain a relationship with people who do not realize that the chasm is there at all.

The porn was disappointing, but a friend revealed that she thought that a seven inch long dildo was huge, and I was just fascinated. I fell asleep with the remains of a teacup of bad red wine next to my bed.

I think that I am in love with Caesar.

Let the old ruffian know
I have many other ways to die; meantime
Laugh at his challange.

Teach me to be cruel, and to lie. I've never been half as good at it as I've wanted to be.

Current Mood: Petulant but happy?
Current Location: This is new! And my bed is a boat. I can see the city.
Current Music: Always the same.