Veneration

Somebody asked me [the mirror] what my "deal" is. Well let me tell you, my reflection, what my "deal" is. My "deal" is that I'm an idiot. It's true, just ask Rube, he'll vouch for that. He'll also vouch that I never forgive when I perceive myself as having been wronged by a person and/or thing. So, my "deal" is that I'm a little bitch too. No worries, because I'm not likely to change any time soon. Due to said "idiocy" and "little bitch-ness."

So then I was asked by my mirror if I bathe regularily. I scoffed and said that I may be stupid but I'm not gross. Sometimes reflections can be such a pain.

My reflection he goes; "So what's with you and reality, you two getting along?" and I go; "Yeah I guess, he can be a dick sometimes though." Then my mirror flipped me off. What a dick.

Then there's the blog that angers me the most because of it's lack of originality,
the chick who doesn't allow comments anymore 'cos people were being bitches[seriously, fuck you people],
the honourable british actor,
the goddess of stream of consciousness,
the guy whose blog doesn't seem to work anymore,
the biggest jerk ever who hasn't updated since November,
the man you can tell is a ladies' man because of the way he walks,
the prettiest girl in Hamilton
and of course,
the best canadian artist of all time.

And they all scream from the screen and it bounces off the glass in my eyes into the mirror and they question my validity; "Do you think you're worth it?" and I say "I'm not sure, but I sure hope I'm worth the Other."

All the while the mirror is surrounded by them and they have a blast and I watch the
amalgamation of thought with a growing satisfaction, like a starving child given a steak for the first time.