MyGen
Profile Generator
A dew-silver blanket marks his patch; the bloodstain reminder of the ritual mist gushed from the open wound of another day break, over-dramatic yet subtle as hollywood's finest; the closing curtain of morning's sublime theatre, complacently played to an empty auditorium. It's one of those afternoons. The kind that come along only a few times each year, each summer. The kind that contemplative memory will overplay to a level which will, in truth, far transcend reality, if only because such perfection is unattainable in a place that yesterday seemed so flawed. All the same, he's thinking it's pretty nice. Like everyone else, he has questions. Of direction, of meaning and of purpose. He has fears, doubts, regrets; matresses in side-streets. But now, bathing in the sunlight on one of those afternoons, he simply is. He feels, hears and sees. Breathes the cut-up grass, the sun-screen skin, the cocktail of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume. Closes his eyes and blurs a playground of youthful faces into a wallpaper of trees whose names he never cared to learn. And smiles. Smiles in the simplicity of disconnect. Laid perfectly still yet soaring, he's never felt more alive.
I'm Joe. My mind tends to wander, so I keep a diary.
I like pop-punk music, cups of tea, conspiracy theories, walks in the countryside, lazy summer days, crazy sleepless nights, meaningful lyrics, insider lingo, secret handshakes, old photos, those afternoons and pretty much everyone in my life right now.
No matter what I hear I'll be right here waiting
No matter what you say I'll be on your side
