i have forgotten my dictionary.
i've forgotten whether: it was in my possetion at the time of dissappearance; if it was French/English or Miriam-Webster; how thin the pages were;if it told me the meanings of anything, everything.
I've forgotten how to read; what the alphabet means; the arrested fluidity of the ink; the color black; the space the dictionary occupied and the space that it did not (most importantly: the space it did not.)
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
PISS

People of Dancefloors all over Buffalo:
Every morning after dancing, I notice something. FOOT BRUISES. Who out there is stomping their stilettos into my tender, pale, fragile foot top? Why should I be concerned about the delicate condition of the slender bones of my feet just because everyone rages out so hard? I know placing a blame is unfair, as I have, in my day, taken down people like a bowling ball on dancefloors. These bruises are placed upon the foot exactly where the nails went through Jesus. Now, maybe it's no fault of the heel-wearing ladies of la luna. Maybe I'm experiencing stigmata. Holy shit. Is that it? Is that what this is?!
Love and squalor,
Natalie
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008

too puddly for picnics and
too panicked for satisfaction.
i am peeling my finger tips down to the bone, i SWEAR; it's horrible and disgusting: i realize what I come from but you see I'm trying to CHANGE it without much success.
you gain the majority of your bad habits in the adolescent years.
I didn't drink coffee in high school = I didn't drink coffee in California.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)