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Date Posted: 21:41:08 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Julian Emberson
Subject: J'en souligne des passages au crayon rose.

'I told myself that despite her past behavior, my teacher was a kind and loving person who had only my best interests at heart. I accepted the idea that an omniscient God had cast me in his own image and that he watched over me and guided me from one place to the next. The Virgin Birth, the Resurrection, and the countless miracles -- my heart expanded to encompass all the wonders and possibilities of the universe.

A bell, though -- that's fucked up.'

Julian giggled soundly, but only loud enough for himself to hear and no one else. There was one thing about reading Sedaris' monotone and oft confused, human writing... and that was it could offer him a temporary, day-lasting forgetfulness. Every time he uttered the simple-minded words Sedaris wrote down in his books he would just burst laughing, enjoying nothing more than the man's bravery to produce his own faults just to lighten people's moods. It was his chocolate of the day. Sedaris was probably the one author from whom he read of, of the type of genre. Being the philosopher he usually selected things more aesthetically and intellectually refined, rather than resort to a dreamer's best friend -- fiction. He'd gotten past dreaming and wanting... or perhaps, just left it somewhere in the recesses of his mind. Away from the reality that always remained grounded.

Julian's attire today was completely Dolce & Gabbana, from the black headband wrapped around only his forehead and the white shirt with a print of "Jaguar" (with the corresponding sleek picture of the cat) in dark gray. His black jeans hugged him loosely, almost tight but enough for air to flow through the expensive onyx thread. His feet, adorned with dress shoes, were elevated onto a chair across from him, ankle on top of the other. Blonde was ruggedly strewn across both side of his forehead, a messy sort of classy look (it truthfully took him half an hour to get it to look purposely mussed). Peach gleamed under the bright lights above, taut over thin, developing muscles.

Subconsciously, an honest frown over the misconceptions and mistakes he had made crawled its way upon Julian's glossy lips. He blinked and bit his bottom lip, continuing to read without regarding anything but forcing away emotions denied.

'In order to get things I want, it helps me to pretend I'm a figure in a daytime drama, a schemer. Soap opera characters make emphatic pronouncements. They ball up their fists and state their goals out loud. "I will destroy Buchanan Enterprises," they say. "Phoebe Wallingford will pay for what she's done to our family." Walking home with the back half of the twelve-foot ladder, I turned to look in the direction of Hugh's loft. "You will be mine," I commanded.'

He smiled slightly.

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