Jordi Huisman - Rear Window (2010)
Jordi Huisman - Rear Window (2010)
— Mira Gonzalez, I Will Never Be Beautiful Enough to Make Us Beautiful Together (via quoted-books)
"Now I have two best friends, Ann and Ann. Each one more beautiful than the other."
I reviewed Spencer Madsen’s book for the Fanzine. I really enjoyed it; it made me feel many different ways & I recommend it highly to other people. Here are a few things it has: masturbation, frozen food, trees, people, places, things
new essay up over at the tusk - ruminations on familiarity, self-effacement, shame, and so on
Rob Kardashian is getting so big and sympathetic and all of his plots are about that. In one, he locks the camera crew out and says “I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m sad!” while they film a shut door. Since everyone is scared of an irreversible thing happening to them, it is always a relief to lose weight on accident without thinking about it. Like insurance. Just in case, so if it does happen, it will be less bad. Losing weight in a healthy, reasonable way seems just as impossible as trying to change imperceptibly on the inside. It isn’t just one thing, though. He likes to take the same prescription opiates that I like. I lie down for different reasons, but lazy is lazy. Either Rob Kardashian will keep expanding until he is big enough to hold more and more of our fears or not. He might get smaller instead, while each of us grows a little bit large. Maybe he will go on The Biggest Loser like his mom hopes, with the taught faced woman and strong men yelling cruel names while he goes up a hill.
I rode the bus to work. A woman holding a frozen pizza got on the bus one stop after me, then got off the next one past.
Sometimes, my job is to make other people surprised by how much easier their job is than they remember, which means things like: refill Parmesan Cheese shakers for a long time. Stand still putting things in the dishwasher. I am adequate.
Most jobs are the same job, which is changing how people feel. On my best days, I am exceptional at this, which isn’t bragging. Data isn’t bragging and just the other day, one of the customers told me I can make people Actually Happy, which is rare.
Sometimes I tell people at the bar personal things that don’t matter to me: if I’ve seen my therapist recently or a self-effacing anecdote about sex or family or a general comment about problems I face in private. I think about how the actual private things aren’t like that, aren’t any good to confess. Secrets are the ways people act in their lives every day that don’t register. It takes so long to get there. Like, actually understand someone. It takes forever.
cat poem found a home at 30 x Lace : ) mrow mrow happy national poetry month
Long, Hard Rain
Now will there be cat poems??
There have always been
cat poems They were cat poems
before I knew about it All along,
such large and small cats
inside my poetry, behaving AND NOT
EVEN ONCE did they disturb me
They kept to themselves
during the time it took
for me to…
Do you ever have nightmares when you’re awake?
Like say you are, for instance stuck in an elevator with the parents from 7th Heaven.
The other lady, a civilian, just got off at her floor teetering a little
on account of her upside-down- lightbulb-pregnancy-shape
then all of a sudden BAM ! BAM ! BAM !
There were waterguns under their jackets? What on earth??
Now they’re saying what you said right back after
They’re using their faces to make the fart sound
and other stuff like that.
I SURRENDER! you say. I SHOULDN’T HAVE. I WAS DRUNK, OKAY?
NO-CAN-DO the dad goes, passing off his watergun to gesture to you in a stern, moral kind of way, like ‘son this is for your own good.’ meanwhile, the mom is Fucking Letting You Have It, supersoakers in both hands, some of the fire raining back on herself so you can see her very hard nipples through the lightish colored paisley shirt, yelling Drunk is no excuse!!!! but looking like Lara Croft or something, Jesus, and now you’re stuttering, can’t say anything, can’t even think really until this second when you all of a sudden recognize, making this quiet retard face away from your body obviously not seeing it but you can remember, first from the time on the bus and when you couldn’t say all through Jean asking over and over what was wrong after. She was so mad! But there were other times too, with movies, and even once by the pool or with J, stealing a watermelon from outside the flower store which was weird. It was sleeting too. and just then at the same time you notice your dumb arousal you yell “YOU’RE NOT MY REAL MOM!!”