With Soft Core the whole book poured out of me in a weird ecstatic gush; I like to mindlessly word-vomit first, take a break and drink some kratom, then return to the word doc and start editing in a slower, more thoughtful way, so that it kind of feels like sculpting.
Why do I miss us at our worst?
You’re so beautiful I see that everything is beautiful. A mudslide. A wound. A dead raccoon.
Maybe, just maybe, it’s like that theory of the universe, a big bang followed by expansion until collapse, a big crunch, then a big bang again, ad infinitum, so that my curling, turtling pizzle will pop out again, pop in, pop out, poppet, an endless eon’s worth of self-fucking of a higher kind, a higher cruel.
Best time to buy a bra / is right before the moon finishes / milking itself
We really hit our stride in Gender Justice class when the Women’s Studies department asked me to teach and I invited you to join, thinking a co-ed experience would best serve our students.
He’d been by himself now for months except for game night with his colleagues and so he multiplied 13 by 47 in his head and divided it down until it was a trace behind the decimal point and then he asked her if she would like to meet him for a coffee downtown.
with beer bongs and messy boys who didn’t know how to do anything but shove shoulders down for head
A glassy-looking eye staring out too from Mr A’s head. Had he been a victim somewhere along the line?
Because if something is inherently taboo, in any way, it’s probably worth exploring.
I’m hitting my vape while he’s being vulnerable.
I started talking like a retired showgirl in a ruined by cigarettes raspy voice and asking my mom things like ‘what good is Tom without some of Dick and Harry on the side?’
Over the next few days, through a method of trial and error, I taught myself the basics of frontier survival.
You're glowing, she said. And why would I be glowing? It can't be the gutrot wine, or last week's fast food lunches. It can't be my Quasimodo limp, I smashed my toe on a fire hydrant trying to
Run to him,
it urged. Drop to your knees
His friends document their lives incessantly. Shots of grand scenery from lookout points. Screenshots of their heart rates and macros.
When she used to swim at night her bones cut through water like perforating paper. It was always the same ritual, pants off first with a slight shimmy, arms up high overhead to get rid of the
It is a horrible thing to lose a friend, they said, and their saying this made him angry. What did they understand? They didn't understand a single thing.
I am at such peace but I take a beat
to pause, that’s all, to feel so full, hearted, set.
“We’re watching Bluey,” I say. “And we’re starving,”
There she was, deep in a Lexapro/cocaine induced blackout.
The truth is i wanted to owe.
but i couldn't say that, that kind of available, that i wanted a knife at my throat demanding all my money, in the bag now;
I sit in my flat and stare at my phone and try to weigh up the risks of calling, weigh up my own exhaustion with life
