like a fish out of water

Happy Birthday Jesus.


found via reCycling, source The Frisky

An interview with myself:

1) What was the first word or phrase you thought of when you woke up this morning?

Me: leg salad (both an image and words)

2) What was the last thing you picked up off the street?


3) Name something you wish you would have picked up but didn’t, and why didn’t you pick it up?

Me: a twisty balloon that looked like a strawberry, it was in the middle of a busy street and I thought it belonged to a baby that had just passed me

4) What do you wish you were doing right now?

Me: walking in dry, crunchy snow that is glittering in the moonlight

5) Do you like to ask questions or answer them?

Me: I tend to ask questions but really enjoy answering a good question.

6) What are you currently obsessed with?

Me: contradictions, dichotomies, and the space in between

7) What makes you angry?

Me: traffic lights that make you push a button in order for you to walk, murdering animals for food, invoking sexuality to sell fast food

8) What makes you happy?

Me: epiphanies, phrases that make your heart stop for a nanosecond, uncovering the obvious

9) What makes you brave?

Me: knowledge

10) What are you excited about for the upcoming year?

Me: riding my bike, making music, and deconstructing the hype of an impending apocalypse


winter illumination

I carry my desires inside me.
They do not materialize
despite their settlement on my tongue
and my knowledge of a decent vocabulary.

The outcome is scribbles
and occasional flashes of expression,
strings of words
like a choker.

holiday dysphoria

To quote Kim Gordon, “my future is static, its already had it ” (Schizophrenia). My holiday wish is pretty simple: please let the next sixteen days zip by and let the future year roll forward like it’s no big deal. Expectations, purposely constructed or illusionary, make me nervous and if past experiences are indicators of anything, vehicles of disappointment. This is not an indictment. It’s a calculated reference to the title of this post.

I love reading the top searches that a random passerby used to find this mess of a blog. Child vagina (WTF?!) and man pussy apparently are two tubes you can take to find this url.

As American feminists were hissing about the Plan B reversal due to “common sense,” British feminists rallied for the muff, in her original glory. The body politic is gloriously exposed; sexuality was rationalized on the lips of politicians and defiantly displayed on the streets. It’s all so Victorian. Foucault just yawned.

A random list of ten good things from the last three months:

  1. kisses in elevators
  2. braless weekends
  3. pink sunsets
  4. responding
  5. doing
  6. thanking
  7. protesting
  8. speculums/feedback
  9. solo expeditions
  10. December sunshine
photo by atlee