July 29, 2014 | movie reviews
I never knew a woman who wasn’t capable of killing me with a sentence. Until now?
You are obsolete. The cashier in your neighborhood’s grocery store is obsolete. The typesetter—who placed each individual letter for the headlines of the morning paper—is obsolete. Tollbooths barely require someone to stand sentry in the middle of the highway to collect coins anymore and soon enough lasers will replace surgeons in operating rooms as well.
I forgot; you were naked. Don’t mind me, I’m only naked. You said you didn’t have any clean clothes. Not a single unsoiled article.
How we pretended to be other people for fun: “Hi, what’s your name?” she asked. “Bill,” I said. “Bill, huh? I can think of a lot of words that rhyme with Bill.”
And here comes this very small girl – this fairly attractive small girl – getting real thug with me suddenly. Suddenly thug. This petite white girl getting suddenly thug. And she physically pushed me saying “Wrong fucking pile!” She was angry about this pile.
If one person can take from this that it is not about privilege, it is not fiction versus poet, it is none of the internet fashions of complaint and it is not anonymous (even though I am any-goddamn-pleasing-way anonymous with or without my fucking name) ...
Rolf Potts & Cedar Van Tassel
Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam
“I don’t understand anything about the... more