and like you i need to begin

beginnings are what they are; beginnings, and like you i need to begin but beginnings are so passé, even the word passé is passé (coming from an australian mouth passé sounds like you are trying to bring forth an accent you don't understand but feel cultured by doing so, thoughts and images come to my mind of a dining table; people sitting, dressed up, waiting to affect each other in some way or another, pain and pride come to my mind, and one person red gown, tiarra red gloves with doily like frills, a person like you, it is you actually, asks a man a gentle man mind you, to passé the salt, oh how delightfully cultured and funny you are, the gentle man in his tux of starched influence gives a side-long look and you think {i didn't ask him to spit on the face of the person next to him, which is a woman in green, watch it slide down her face with that drooling bubbly roll, and fall onto her plate and exclaim with a rather large grin to everyone but you: do you like my tie!} and he slaps you, the warmth and glow of it leaves a pregnant stain upon your cheek for quite some time, to be precise until your death bed), come to think of it this posting, the title, the photograph with the font and its opacity, the blog itself; is all passé and if it is then so am i, so rather than not being passé i will begin.