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I guess more folks than I expected are reading Carol’s Little World. A lot of folks are hung up on the lesbian and the THEY/HE/SHE themes that have been running throughout my week. I have been subject to numerous guesses for the names of the “guilty,” none of which I will confirm or deny. When the timing is correct and I feel comfortable, I will reveal my innermost thoughts to the parties involved. Until then, I can just become depressed because, once again, I will sleep with Charlie and he will take up more than his share of the bed.

It’s some kind of twisted romantic dream, that “sleeping under the same sky” deal is. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I mean, for what it’s worth, you might as well be sleeping continents away. I just don’t get the charm of sleeping in the same city as the one you crave and gazing out onto the sunset speculating if HE is noticing it too. Especially if HE does not know that you are alive (as is the case in point). Maybe one day HE will wake up and notice. HE will notice that HIS “little world” is based on the shallow, empty, hollow, existence that falls under the umbrella of the “attractive” the “easy” the “simple” the “obvious” and, yes, ok, maybe the large breasted. One day, the boredom will sneak up and pounce and he will yearn for something more substantial, something more spiritual, someone more intelligent, a lady of substance with whom he can share his thoughts and dreams and enjoy a meaningful conversation with the sunset in question serving as a mere backdrop. I mean, you cannot make a seven course meal out of Doritoes and expect to come away without orange fingertips once in a while, right?

Meanwhile, I sit across town waxing poetic in the wee hours of the morning. Hey, didn’t anybody ever tell me that most poets always sleep alone? Oh well. Such is the life of a tortured artist. It’s what drives me to paint and what drove Picasso to cut off his ear, I suppose. Love is such a cruel hoax and reality is a harsh mistress. I guess I’ll stick to fiction, photography, and, oh yeah, Doritoes.

Besides, who says that, just because I’m ugly and not of the “large breasted” variety, that this implies I can provide anything more substantial than HER. Just because SHE is “pretty” doesn’t rule out the fact that SHE is witty, charming, spiritual, intelligent, substantial…oh who I am kidding. I’ve seen HER breasts. She’s a tramp. SHE knows it and so do I.

Now I really wonder how much implants cost.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in “Carol’s Little World” signing off.


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