(Source: viridiannightmares)
Posted 3 months ago
Man of words
Kamus is a man of words.
At least he likes to think of himself as one.
All his t-shirts have something to do with the written word and he has a black and white or white and black,depending on your perspective,checkered trilby hat which he wears on sunny days at a jaunty angle. He’s not enough of a tosser to wear a hat at night or under a roof. Or to be anal when people commit the error of using “your” when “you are” is what they meant. Note the casual use of the word, “tosser”. Kamus sometimes imagines Stephen Fry is dead and that he is channelling Fry’s linguistic abilities.
Kamus’s hair is unmanageable no matter how much he combs or styles. Unless he is at home. Then his wavy slightly curly hair, deserves to be on at least 89 ads for hair care products. But Kamus does not despair. When combined with his two day stubble which should have been shaved off four days ago and his sleep deprived sunken eyes,he presents a man of a thousand sorrows and the wisdom obtained from such tribulations.
People often tell Kamus that he’s funny.And “people” here refers to, the twenty year old girl who has not quite left behind her teenage years and friends who get drunk after three pints of festival cider.
However, Kamus doesn’t want to settle for just “funny”.
Someone once told him,”Language was invented to seduce women.”
Kamus doesn’t consider the fact that he’s not published anything of critical acclaim, as his greatest failure as a man of words.
Kamus doesn’t consider the fact that he’s not published anything of critical acclaim, as his greatest failure as a man of words.
Women only find him funny.
That’s what really gets Kamus’s Billy Gruff as a man of words.
Posted 3 months ago
Elegant
Old carpet smells no matter how many times you clean it. That smell stagnates the air and makes it heavy.I exhale and I exhale but this surrounding heaviness will not budge. As carpets go,I suppose there’s nothing unique about the carpet upon which my feet tread. Neither in beauty nor breathtaking hideousness.
The rest of the contents of this room share this property with the carpet. Wait - that’s not entirely true.Sitting across me, are the kind of women that make even a man who’s fairly well acquainted with gender studies, question whether sneaking glances at the female form adorned in the garb of summer with sunkissed skin exposed fashionably,is a biological male trait or that he’s exceptionally horny.
Look up!
Look at her face or above her head!
It’s amazing how much you can see in your peripheral vision.
Yet as the phrase goes,”Brilliance is oft overlooked and thrown away”. For to my right,brown hair,steel blue-gray eyes or at least I think those are steel blue-gray eyes. I better not stare, for I’ve stolen far too many glances than what is considered socially acceptable.From the simple drop earrings on her ears, to the bobby pins in her hair, to the subtle makeup,it is the face from which acne has not entirely departed that captivates my attention.
She claims she’s not a good conversationalist.However, her knowledge of literature and the passion with which she speaks about Jane Austen, makes the claim hard to believe. Her movements are those of a woman who’s trying to come off as elegant. When she stands to leave the room and the hem of her pretty royal blue dress comes to rest at her knees,I’m compelled to look at her legs. The legs say,possibly some dance training but the way she walks screams,”Tomboy who hates wearing dresses!”
Pretty elegantly adorable, is what I make of her awkward gait.
Because infatuation is what life really boils down to. At least according to Kamus anyway.
