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September 06 2010
Not all
Bolted tight. Glue held fast the pine lid givin to splinters if you just tried to pry. Through the march of time, she kept asking to look inside. He kept wanting to let her. So he did. Then she left.
A lid opened is hard to close again. The gremlins and ghosts and suffered skeletons get a taste of sunlight and demand it ever more.
But then rains come. And the wind. And the clouds boil over and tumble through frightened sky and the skeletons shriek and scream. The ghosts hide and the gremlins cower.
Time to close.
September 04 2010
September 03 2010
Fuck. Yes.
Mine
~ There. Here. Decisions. Pros and cons mix and mash like no contented yin and yang. Tension of future mindseye wanting but yielding happiness constricted by snake’s taught lining. Do I move?
~ Growth and movement to ever more exposure. Do you care? As I weave and bob amongst personal growth, uncovered skeletons, celebrations of sexuality of self and others… will they care?
~ This then is my sole home. Alienated and apart from every which physicality I flit through. Self barred from those virtual communities she won. So here I am. If you don’t like it, if he is uncomfortable, if she is offended, if they are squicked out… to all: fuck off.
Here I am.
“ It is an astonishing phenomenon. Colleagues and acquaintances by the hundreds went on the record to reveal what they knew, for good or ill, about prospective national candidates as diverse as Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Al Gore, and Barack Obama. When it comes to Palin, people button their lips and slink away. ”— Sarah Palin: The Sound and the Fury | Politics | Vanity Fair
September 01 2010
This is sitting in my mailbox. 2,200 miles away. I won’t be home for another 10 days. I might just start crying before I get to the book.
Panhandlers & Mastercards
Apropos of previous written, I read this from one point of view. Why not the other?
Failed states
“At least you won’t be homeless,” he said.
But wonder. Shouldn’t I? Deserve to beat the path to nomadic submission. Grind and see what it’s really like. Hoping, but not really caring, if I could ever get off again. I tell myself I could. It’s a built in safety net, this ability to magically dust off the dirt of the streets. But what if it stains. What if merely scarring and stinking, it also retains? Would that be so bad?
Yes, suffer. But as much as it keeps getting deeper, lower, as soon as I think “just when it can’t get worse” - again. As much as the wounds puss and ooze the green of hate and debt. As much as it… I could be on the streets. I could be chronic instead of one-time. I could have wasted 10 years instead of 5. We could be fighting over custody instead of knowing even if it’s mine they’ll treat it as theirs. I could be bored instead of stressed. I could be picking at scabs instead of keys. So why not?
Give it to me. Give me the dirt, sweat, puke, blood, and want. White, male, western, educated, middle fucking class privilege. Take it and smash.
August 31 2010
August 30 2010
Sam - December 2009
“ polka dot tights and a polka dot dress… ”— So I’m wearing…
They are my mind’s eye; fiercely hateful yet curiously winsome. And like the hard insistence to follow air currents, I am subject to the whims of my internal streams.
August 29 2010
“— ‘Politics of Pleasure’, Sarah, Women’s Glib (via littlelightx, femblr) (via bear-bones) (via chandelierlake) (via lipstick-feminists)“Women who report masturbating score higher on a self esteem index than women who do not report masturbating. Women who do masturbate have a more positive body image and less sexual anxiety.”
…
Here’s the deal: Masturbating is fun, orgasms are good for you, and it makes misogynists uncomfortable. So get yourself a vibrator and start a revolution.
”
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