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#influencer
And there I was. A witness to spontaneity and self-expression; to emancipation. Not mine, however. Someone else entirely, but physically close. As in the very next seat. "You are so composed," I must have said at some point. "It's all those long years standing outside in the terminator line, waiting to enter," I believe she replied. "Why do you come here then?" was my stupid question. "The autumn theatricals and the chance to start again," was her all too brief answer. Just then she stepped out of the shadows, breaking off from a wall of men, and onto the edge of the stage...her eyes beamed undiluted willpower. It is a gaze that both chills and warms, radiating and demanding trust in this singularly self-possessed presence. In the forensic lighting, she had a sticky acid smile, her ****** in candid detail, stellar in spectra. Everyone throws things at the understudy, but not this night. She danced against time with an audience of unknown monarchs; some with crowns, some with wings. She held birdsong, truth slipping through her fingers, pollinating protagonists caught in the (third) act. A night here is like wading in a pond with a jagged edge; the wind blows through and thoroughly, and still she stays calm, collective. She always seems to be waiting for something. Permanence seems out of reach; some great apocalyptic event is on the horizon, and she views the future tentatively. "You are aware that everyone is looking at you?" I can't help inquiring. “How can they not. On TV and film, there’s a bigger separation,” she says. “But when you’re breathing the same air, there’s definitely a reaction. Sometimes you feel a little bit like a ****** That’s part of the experience. The scary part is not the nudity." Then she took a beat, and we subtly entered the frame of the play; away the bird flew, and she began to talk about grief and loss, her voice clotting, and so fast had the audience been beguiled that one softly sympathetic voice rang out from the front of the orchestra, as clear as a bell as she struggled to articulate her tangle of feelings: “We understand.”
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Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 4:30 AM UTC
The Woman Seated Next to Me at the Opera Was Philosophical, Naked, and Holding a Hummingbird
And there I was. A witness to spontaneity and self-expression; to emancipation. Not mine, however. Someone else entirely, but physically close. As in the very next seat. "You are so composed," I must have said at some point. "It's all those long years standing outside in the terminator line, waiting to enter," I believe she replied. "Why do you come here then?" was my stupid question. "The autumn theatricals and the chance to start again," was her all too brief answer. Just then she stepped out of the shadows, breaking off from a wall of men, and onto the edge of the stage...her eyes beamed undiluted willpower. It is a gaze that both chills and warms, radiating and demanding trust in this singularly self-possessed presence. In the forensic lighting, she had a sticky acid smile, her ****** in candid detail, stellar in spectra. Everyone throws things at the understudy, but not this night. She danced against time with an audience of unknown monarchs; some with crowns, some with wings. She held birdsong, truth slipping through her fingers, pollinating protagonists caught in the (third) act. A night here is like wading in a pond with a jagged edge; the wind blows through and thoroughly, and still she stays calm, collective. She always seems to be waiting for something. Permanence seems out of reach; some great apocalyptic event is on the horizon, and she views the future tentatively. "You are aware that everyone is looking at you?" I can't help inquiring. “How can they not. On TV and film, there’s a bigger separation,” she says. “But when you’re breathing the same air, there’s definitely a reaction. Sometimes you feel a little bit like a ****** That’s part of the experience. The scary part is not the nudity." Then she took a beat, and we subtly entered the frame of the play; away the bird flew, and she began to talk about grief and loss, her voice clotting, and so fast had the audience been beguiled that one softly sympathetic voice rang out from the front of the orchestra, as clear as a bell as she struggled to articulate her tangle of feelings: “We understand.”
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a momentary voice today tomorrow a meaningless echo a frail, faint legacy .
0
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 11:34 PM UTC
influential
Daredevil laid dead Dialed aid, leave dread Viral liar lived idle Vile drivel, aired live. Evil idea, veiled lie Real Reel, diva died Dire dealer, ever realer Revived, live, revived, dead Revealed vivid red. Redial, aid evaded arrival— DRIVE, DRIVE, DRIVE!! Evil deed, via viral Reel, red river.
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Dec 29, 2024
Dec 29, 2024 at 3:06 PM UTC
Daredevil
Faith in unknowns are tough But, through your leadership, I have emerged, Thank you, for allowing me to spread my wings Thank you, For being my guiding wind
0
Oct 15, 2022
Oct 15, 2022 at 8:12 AM UTC
I’d like to say, Thanks to ...
With 2G phone in hand No sign of a ring-light stand The un-influencer comes to the table He doesn't tweet when people die Says negative things that will make you cry Gets stuck when logging in Wears holes in his clothes that really should be in a bin Writes bad poetry that nobody reads Writes bad blogs that would make your eyes bleed States the obvious when asked Laughs and then makes you gasp Doesn't check his look before zooming Doesn't check his volume, it's booming To be avoided at social functions Should be served with a court injunction
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May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 12:39 PM UTC
The un-influencer guidebook
If you want to be a true influencer you should put in some actual work ****** the Archduke of Austria and his wife The Duchess of Hohenberg Gavrilo Princip did not have many followers He did not have any discount codes for his online store He had a simple dream to break off Austria-Hungary's South Slav provinces so they could be combined into a Yugoslavia, and instead he started a world war If you want to influence society for centuries to come Stop being a coward posting vacation pics online Go out and get yourself a gun
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Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 7:02 PM UTC
Influencer
The ice I wear is silence. As for diamonds, I don't own them. I save ruby for my lips. I save swagger for my hips. I save crystal for my gin. And the only thing I age is grace. As for me I grow divinity- The sin in me, is confidently rising as I walk into the room. If I make you feel I'm naked when your burden down with fur- "What does he see in her?" If I make you feel uneasy, and hold him just so tighter because my steps are lighter although my thighs are trunks like mighty oaks they hold me high so I can match Tiffany eyes to the Tiffany colored skies. Wear your silver, wear your gold. And I'll wear nothing loud and bold. How dare I not adorn. Not care about your scorn? I am the bracelet that wraps the wrist, I am the earrings lazy laying. Designers drape me in goddess garb while your childish glitter is fraying. I wear years like men wear watches- Proud and vainly count the notches. Watch me slither, watch me wander. Helpless but to become fonder.
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Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 12:06 PM UTC
Roadmap