post- modern love
You will bald prematurely.
“A Brief Query for God”
Why do bad things
Happen to good people?
Why do good things
Happen to bad people?
And if nothing ever happens to me,
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
– James Feinberg
I laughed my first time. And second. And third. I’m a nervous laugher. My girlfriend was understandably upset.
– Sensory Issues 101
Those awful toe shoes
Apparently he owned them
Should have known better
– Retrospective Red Flag
frosting from a can
frosting from a can
i really like it
sam i am
Roses are red, violets are blue, taking physics was almost worth it, because I got to talk to you
into a pool of
lemon laughter, toothy smiles
we fall in, loving
– LITR 0100B: Intro to Poetry
Went to a party on February 10th and I was dancing with this girl, and then I was leaving the party and she was like, “Hey, can we exchange numbers?” And then I was like, let’s do something on Tuesday. And then on Tuesday I woke up and it was Valentine’s Day. I didn’t want her to purposefully think I was taking her out on Valentine’s Day. So I just decided not to address it. Yea.
i have your senior year yearbook photo
taped to the left inside cover of my english notebook
i have the butt of the pencil you lent me
even though i have long since used up the rest of it
i have a memory of you, and me, with you, of us,
my most cherished possession
that im saving for a rainy day
– keeper of things
He asked me if I wanted to smoke before we went to bed and I said yes because, even though I’m known to get habitually paranoid and nervous after smoking weed, I didn’t want to have to explain everything. I didn’t know how to say that I don’t smoke weed, but like I’m a person who would smoke weed, if you know what I mean. Within minutes I was lying in a corpse position, regretting the fact that I had taken the inside corner of the bed against the wall and would have to roll my body over his to get to water, or the bathroom, or the front door. He started to kiss down my neck and my stupid, hypercritical brain starts telling me that this is how sad housewives feel when their white collar balding husband comes home from work and can only get it up for a minute before he rolls over and falls asleep. I started laughing but bit my lip so he’d think it was a sex thing. He bit his lip back and I had to stop myself from gagging. When he slid into me, I had to hide my face in the crook of my elbow to keep from breaking into high pitched giggles. All sex is violence! My brain screamed. I tried to push off the ebb of intrusive thoughts but they kept coming in. Heterosexual sex is an act of violence against women. There’s just no way this ever feels as good as it does for him. When he finished, he started to go down on me because he’s a good feminist, and totally believed me when I pretended to come in 30 seconds. All told: If you’re prone to paranoia and intrusive thoughts while smoking weed, it’s best to not do that before sex.
– High Maintenance
did your roommate see my vulva?
– isn’t it cute??
he played guitar and i gave birth to a dear friend on stage. it was a variety show of sorts. during a quick change, the voice of an angel sung a song about surgery and wanting it and having it. i paid little attention, unable to unhook my bra under my sweater to slide on a tight-fitting pair of child’s overalls.
as we deconstructed the stage, he introduced himself. when i saw him any time after, i called him Sam. he didn’t correct me a single time. soon i got giddy seeing him on campus. sometimes i rerouted my routes to overlap with his. he carried a banana with him everywhere he went, a three-time a day ritual. he was sam the banana man in the text thread between my mom and i.
then one night on a street corner, i asked for guitar lessons, knowing very well i had no musical talent to speak of or show for. he tried to teach me a grip or two but i got bored so we watched a Spanish movie about a lady who became a house.
when he told me he loved me, i said thank you sam. almost two years later and he still sings about surgery. almost two years later and i still don’t play guitar. almost two years later and i’ve finally started calling him james.
– jane adams
I don’t want to know
About the inner movements
That dictate your gut
– Chanel No. 2
I met up with a guy who invited me to hang out at 11 p.m., and after three hours, told me he was going to bed. I asked him why he hadn’t made a move, and he blamed the patriarchy. wut