break the terror of the urban spell

it's too hot so i slog through the streets extra slow in my high heeled boots i have dragged out of my closet to teach my feet a lesson:
they are complaining because my new shoes dig into the backs of my feet and break the skin...
even when i wear my thickest black socks (gorgeous confectionary bobby socks dripping venice lace scallops like hearts, but also like spears... make a mental note that i need more of these when i get the money, they're too good.)the digging continues and the scabs turn black from the lint.

there is another reason to wear such boots... a kind of nostalgia mixed with rage and meloncholy, a kind of nostalgia... the demon is trying to take me back down under the world with him, saying it was my fault i had to go, but it's never my fault in my head when i'm the one crying... it's a sickness. i have my regrets but i can only move forward, not back so part of it maybe is that he'd have liked this dress and i wanted to say "see how uncomfortable this makes you?"

but another part is larkin, of course, the desire to be the kind of lovely, perfect, liquid sex mixed with strange twee charm thing that people have trouble believing exists, like always. i want to be something people have to believe in, i want to create gains for the user until they don't know which way's up. been being hit with too much too fast lately though... why is it that all the popularity always hits you at once so that your social calendar can't fit it all in?

in my common street doxy dress, my victorian hooker attire, i am braver. it doesn't seem like a trap, my house, that will swallow me whole when i'm not looking. i feel restless, jumping like candlelight. i feel strong, unbreakable, and also already broken. i wonder if the ghosts in the walls can see me and what they are reminded of... do they think i am one, too? the mirrors in my house are all silver-backed and slightly clouded-transparent, it's hard to see myself in them clearly but i swear there's a goblin living on the other side of the one in the hallway.

i talk to some people about starting a d&d campaign and i put my clothes on before i make the call, no matter how comfortable i am alone in my house in my new underwear i couldn't really afford... i can never resist anything with lace or frills. i always thought maybe about starting some kind of tribute site where i'll model things if you buy them for me... i know better, but i still know i would do it if i could... i'll do anything for good stories and new clothes. anyway, it feels essential, to wear clothes when calling, even though there is no video. part of my audience-complex.

i tell that wizard that if i were a character in a book i'd be eloise at the plaza... to my surprise he's a boy that's read that book and he agrees.