| They say I’m a beast. And feast on it. When all along I thought that’s what a woman was. They say I’m a bitch. Or witch. I’ve claimed the same and never winced. They say I’m a macha, hell on wheels, viva-la-vulva, fire and brimstone, man-hating, devastating, boogey-woman lesbian. Not necessarily, but I like the compliment. The mob arrives with stones and sticks to maim and lame and do me in. All the same, when I open my mouth, they wobble like gin. Diamonds and pearls tumble from my tongue. Or toads and serpents. Depending on the mood I’m in. I like the itch I provoke. The rustle of rumor aug 21 2018 ∞
may 4 2019 + + “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” ― Maya Angelou + “Do what you feel in your heart to be right – for you’ll be criticized anyway.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt + “Face your deficiencies and acknowledge them; but do not let them master you. Let them teach you patience, sweetness, insight.” ― Helen Keller +“Be bold. If you are going to make an error, make a doozy.” ― Billie Jean King + “He was ugly, himself. Weird-ugly. But ugliness in a man doesn't matter, much. Ugliness in a woman is her life.” ― Joyce Carol Oates, Faithless mar 10 2014 ∞
jul 19 2015 + |
If the hope of giving is to love the living, the giver risks madness in the act of giving. Some such lesson I seemed to see in the faces that surrounded me. Needy and blind, unhopeful, unlifted, what gift would give them the gift to be gifted? The giver is no less adrift than those who are clamouring for the gift. If they cannot claim it, if it is not there, if their empty fingers beat the empty air and the giver goes down on his knees in prayer knows that all of his giving has been for naught and that nothing was ever what he thought and turns in his guilty bed to stare at the starving multitudes standing there and rises from bed to curse at heaven, he must yet understand that to whom much is given much will be taken, and justly so: I cannot tell how much I owe. aug 21 2018 ∞
may 4 2019 +
jul 19 2015 ∞
aug 20 2018 +
mar 10 2014 ∞
aug 21 2018 + + Girls
+ Boys
mar 10 2014 ∞
sep 15 2019 + |
I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what’s underneath. I want to walk down the street past Thrifty’s and the hardware store with all those keys glittering in the window, past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly, hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders. I want to walk like I’m the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm aug 21 2018 ∞
aug 22 2018 +
aug 21 2018 ∞
may 4 2019 +
feb 22 2016 ∞
sep 1 2018 + |