Trivia Thomas walks around town on baited hooks and dirty looks, despises things that most find comforting. She's got a friend that everyone knows as the pull-it-together girl and when they're together they magnetise. Got your eyes... Trivia hopes you don't see her following you around like a puppy dog, she doesn't know that you think she doesn't even see you at all. Trivia Thomas walks into walls and tells the future with her waking thoughts, because the future to her, is her future. What other future is there to worry about?
Trivia Thomas is a wild girl from the woods-- her father wanted to name her trivial for all that she was, but her mother would never allow it. Her mother believed that a woman growing up in today's world being seen as trivial by everyone without walking around under that label to boot had it hard enough and removed the L. Trivia still feels like she lives up to her name because she's not the kind of girl that anyone needs to know... she'll always be just another fact that other facts may tie into, but she'll never break her life of obscurity. Trivia shudders in the light of day where everything, every flaw in the world is exposed for all to see. Her knees are skinned from riding bikes and climbing trees. Trivia loses herself in other facts, has other facets and secret assets. She keeps them away from the world because she reckons that once the world knows how to hurt you, they'll do their best to do so. She reckons if she wanders through life acting like she cares nothing for nothing and no one then she will never be hurt.
Trivia Thomas hurts. She lies to herself and those around her-- trivialises everything until it and they slip into the same obscurity to which she has resigned herself. She longs for her father-- a father who could care less, who was never there. A father, whom she tells everyone, "still loves her, but just doesn't know it". She cries in the bathtub and even her brash demeanor is charming to those who surround her because her stone face can't mask what people see in her eyes. They hear her humming those morose tunes when she thinks she's alone. They know she's longing just like them, something is wrong, just like them. She likes people that won't take it lying down, she likes people that insist on having it their way or no way-- Trivia likes to argue. Trivia likes to fight for what she wants because if she doesn't have to fight for it, was it really worth procuring in the first place? Trivia doesn't want a guru to go see unless he's sitting atop his mountain in ultimate altitude and puffing on a cigarette. There is no one who is without vices. She considers herself a guru in her own right, wears a crown and calls herself baby in private, arms wrapped around her knees rocking back and forth and laughing at nothing in particular. She thinks that the only way to keep sane is to force a bit of insanity into her life.
Trivia doesn't believe in love but still wishes that she could be swept off of her feet. She is afraid to tell her married lover that she has come across a man whom she thinks could be the one. His wife knows who she is, his wife knows that she fucks her husband, and she doesn't care. She loves Trivia because when Trivia's around she has free time, and when Trivia disappears, her husband bears down on her again and she's got no freedom. Trivia's both a terrible sinner and a godsend.
Trivia Thomas likes to be in the spotlight but feels like she has nothing to offer. She knows she glows in her sequined dresses but she can't understand why. The clothes make the man, she says, why don't they make the woman to? There's nothing living under these clothes that would mean much to me or you. She insists that it's the clothes but I know it is much more. It's the spark in her soul, whether intentional or not, whether benign or malignant-- it's the sparks that draw all of us moths into her world. She can swear up and down that it's the sequins-- but the sequins only accentuate the beauty within.
It doesn't take shine on the outside to show what shines on the inside.
It's sad, but true...
If you want to cross the bridge my sweet
You've got to pay the toll
Take a gulp and take a breath
And go ahead and sign the scroll
(Flotsam! Jetsam! Now I've got her, boys!
The boss is on a roll!)
This poor, unfortunate soul
Smile and dance like you mean it. Speak the words you mean to speak or it will tear you up inside. Let it flow, don't hold it back because any dam will break under enough pressure and you don't want to gush, you just want to flow, pleasing and beautiful. Flow to me. Move with what moves you. Don't force it, don't fake it, see your chance and take it! Think about the heartbreak it may harbour if you decide to say no. If you are too afraid to be captured you will never be captured, you will never be able to capture because if you are afraid to submit to your captor it will either escape or dominate you in a painful fashion until you devise a plan to get away from it. It may be fun to compose conversations in a language you are only vaguely familiar with, but you will only end up confused. Stick to your native tongue. Perhaps learn others, yes, but do not try to compose yourself in said tongue. You may end up with an egregious error on your hands. Lost in translation, result in invasion.
I am so desperate for debate that I would claw someone's eyes out... I just want understanding without advice. I just want someone who will hear me and who will not judge or give me advice-- someone who will just be able to feel. Someone who will wait in fear like me, so curious and yet, too afraid. Here's to hoping that my shifts are what they think-- here's to hoping that I'll still have friends no matter what I drink.