I noticed something on the light rail today. Actually, I notice something on the RTD and MTA every day. One of the main facts of life that becomes truer than true is one thing humans are good at is placing our market value. There's no real abundance of spectacularly beautiful women in Denver, but today I totally saw one and cured my hangover. Now I woke up this morning at the club hockey house walked down the street was too drunk to walk any farther so I literally just sat on a bench closed my eyes and felt the sun on my face. A few moments pass and next thing you know I am on a bus to nowhere.
I digress, directly across from me sat a spectacularly beautiful young woman, the kind who makes a concerted effort to look flawless. Everyone began to look our way, probably wondering who she was, where she was going, and what types of plans she had tonight. The type of girl you think long and hard before approaching because you know your game is going to have to be tight. Not that this bitch scared me, but I think my North Jerz rudeboy bravado can be a turn off at times. Dicks. Boobs. Lines of coke. Orgies. Sex, drugs, hip hop & Loco Dice; that's me, and I'm a bad son of a bitch. There are so many self-destructive qualities about me and the main one is my mouth. Wild, unrestricted, unapologetic and dangerous. It drives people away from me.
What really changed my morning, however, is likely when my phone died. I feel around my different pockets and pull out this letter a girl sent me about 2 weeks ago. It was a great letter and I was touched deeply by it. The notion that someone thought of me enough to sit down, hand write this letter, and send it 2000 miles away to somewhat of a stranger was truly special to me.
I can't draw, I can't sing, and my photography skills are straight up mediocre. All my emotions go down on paper but there is a threshold of emotion that you can put behind words, the rest of these feelings I wish to identify with I turn to music for. Sometimes art, sometimes photography. But only finished products, art is not just anything you put your grimy ass hands on. Some people are too stupid to recognize craftsmanship but I am not one of them.
My nerve damage prevents me from writing for long periods of time and it causes me a considerable amount of pain all the way up my arm but there is someone with me right now I am going to miss tremendously and I must sit down and write this letter. Life is too short for someone whom you have love for not to know how you feel about them. Handwritten love letters are a lost art.
They used to have desks for this very purpose; beautiful desks for the sole purpose of writing letters. Can't say I own one, but when I have my own home, this is a piece I will have. If you get a hand written letter from me, you mean a lot to me. This is how I would like to transition into communication with those who have that special place in my heart. Coming of age during an era full of misinformation, there are people that deserve to know how you feel about them, and you should leave no doubt. The Storm is one of my all time favorite works of art, and when I begin to draft this letter to this certain someone, this is where I'll draw my inspiration. This picture is getting hung somewhere, basically an advertisement telling everyone I'm a die hard romanticist. Who it scares away, I'll never know.
"it's us against them,
& it's just you and me"
Eventually I make my way to a cafe downtown and have some breakfast alone. At this point, I'm pretty happy to be alive: this is a damn good breakfast burrito. And I'm by myself, which is sort of social suicide in New Jersey, but that's because people are vain. All this time alone I spend thinking about that one special girl, and the countless other reasons I deserve to smile today. Denver is a city full of potential friends, not strangers. Lots of good times and a few truly remarkable people I meet everyday here.
But this didn't happen by accident, and I didn't get here by not taking chances and fucking up
a lot. Go out and connect with people, I can't stress this most of us are too selective about whom we engage with to a fault.
For all the guys on the bus this morning to be so vehemently curious as to who this beautiful woman was, and for none to have the balls to get up and speak with her was mildly disappointing for me. But ladies do your part: take your earphones out and put the big designer shades away
. Make yourself available for more advances, because you never know. What I've learned over time however is that being pretty comes with consequences. It must suck getting hit on all the time when you're out trying to have fun, and I admire a girl who everyone wants to me nice to, and she just handles it perfectly with such grace.
But to conclude, I love women. You guys are art. The way you're all structured & the shit you go through amazes me. You disappoint me often via social networking aka NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOUR BEDAZZLED NAILS BITCH. But you're all gorgeous, your powerful, your spirits light up the whole room. And one thing is for damn sure: we could not live without you.
Yours for real,
Posh
