When I go out I can never escape the flaccid eye- roll; it may come from another or from myself but it permeates life in its disinterested boredom. Earnestness falls in its wake for fear of irrelevance or arrogance. When I am earnest I risk irrelevance or possibly arrogance and so I err on the side of irony. The eye- roll is aimed at anything possibly genuine but repeated; a dance; a smile; a joy at a song; a good night; being drunk (again); feeling that mystical connection that people say is friendship and the list goes on. The eye roll speaks of experience and a tired worn life broken by the savage pain of being a man; and as the world is perpetuated by the hyperweb and the expanding enveloping feeling of knowitallness and seenitbefority the eye- roll becomes more and more prevalent. I cannot risk irrelevance or arrogance in its face and the old maxim holds true: "if you can't beat 'em join 'em".
My love is destroyed by the possibility of nothing; a gaping swallowing hungry nothing devouring the world for the sake of insecurity. Really though I want to love something enough for me not to be afraid of letting everything else go. For some sort of consummation of my life so I no longer have to be rolled up in eyes.
If you are still reading this Sunset Rubdown's Dragonslayer is unreal; get it completely legitimately right now.
* This was said to me semi- recently; so I am not accusing you. The way you roll your eyes is probably quite endearing and sweet like the wife from Mad Men.
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