This morning I dreamed of my ideal man. I vaguely recall the details but he was a weirdo loner. He sang Bob Dylan songs to me. He wasn't Latino. He was white like me, whatever the hell that means. I certainly don't feel white or Caucasian. What the fuck is Caucasian? I think Caucasian is some made up bullshit. I believe race is a construct designed to keep people fighting like crabs in a barrel. We're all in the same barrel. Class is real. I watch the Kardashians enough to know that shit straight and for a motherfucking fact. Do you have a private jet? Two or three houses? Neither do I. So we are much the same.
My intuition tells me that ideal dream man, a construct of my subconsciousness, is an Aquarian with Venus in Aquarius, Capricorn rising, a Sagittarius moon and Mars in Scorpio. I'm not sure about the other stuff. He questioned me when I reached for his hand but I'm accustomed to that sort of thing. If a man coos and goos all over me he ain't the one for me. I need a cold, withholding, calculating motherfucker. Otherwise I'll have no idea who or where or what I am. Business as usual on the Uranus side of the street.
My intuition tells me that ideal dream man, a construct of my subconsciousness, is an Aquarian with Venus in Aquarius, Capricorn rising, a Sagittarius moon and Mars in Scorpio. I'm not sure about the other stuff. He questioned me when I reached for his hand but I'm accustomed to that sort of thing. If a man coos and goos all over me he ain't the one for me. I need a cold, withholding, calculating motherfucker. Otherwise I'll have no idea who or where or what I am. Business as usual on the Uranus side of the street.
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