I’m thirty and act like an unwed teenage mother… I’m a mother and I’m unwed, but far from a teenager. Been battling this chest cold for a few, ahem, years now and last night I actually slept almost sitting upright. We’re pathetic. Took a trip to North Carolina for Thanksgiving and if people truly knew how close to satan they were, thanks wouldn’t be bullshit they’d be giving. Eddie, come back home safe and aside from your dick, with all of your appendages! What else? Things have to change, I’m officially an adult now, she still can’t feed herself and maybe it’s time that I let her go to town with that fork, she’s too smart to be slowed down by a jab in the eye. Fisher Price has taken too much out of my wallet, Dora and her subliminal messages; my daughter’s half German and half puertorican, she will be confused enough! Her father is a genius, he still has hope in mankind and allows himself to be taken from time to time. I don’t want things to be “brought back,” seeing my childhood displayed on the overgrown bodies of these 12 year olds is retro enough. I don’t have to tell another soul about Kerouac, did enough advertising for him during my twenties and now I will truly enjoy him; Ginsberg has taken me as he did when Clint found his profile in the back of our English textbook; fifteen cents he is no longer featured for high school students to discover on their own and hear “cock” and “queer” as empowering as my first listening to Ani. So if there is one word to describe my twenties it should definitely be: SINISTER! This is my last recollection of these events as they unfolded, onward and upward, so they say on the TV!
November 28, 2006...6:51 am
There is no “I” in “orgy”!
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