I’m goin 2 physical therapy to learn some more exercises for my back
Then I’m goin to meet the summercamp director to talk about our plans for this year and how many of my coworkers will be people who I initially had as my campers (3-4! Out of a 10-12 person staff, ownage)
Be kind to your backs everyone
💋
The “key” is to get my chapbook out over gchat this evening and no later. I say this to myself and raise a blue plastic cup to my hot sultry lips. I say this and a shitty potion of gilbey’s gin and five o’clock vodka and crystal light spills into my mouth. This mixed drink has been named “A Hard Gay’s Night” or at least that is what the handwritten sign over the Coleman cooler which it sits in says. I am wondering what Ryan is doing now and a man approaches me, nauseatingly.
He is confident and speaks too loudly. He has moist brown hair and crummy eyebrows and an idiot’s chin. He says his name is “Keith” and I say “Nice to meet you Kenneth” and he says “Keith” and I say “Kenneth” while looking at how well his gross stump of a neck elides with his infuriating puny head, I think his spirit animal is a pencil eraser.
Keinneith says irregardless and talks about his plans for starting an energy drink company after graduating and asks me several times to feel his muscles, which are weird and bad. I hate Keinneith.
Later we fucked, and I thought about new lists of early aughts nostalgia totems to submit to thought catalog/Derek Piotr’s “sound art”/bizarre fantasies of destroying people who say “sound art.” His shitty wiener also made me think his spirit animal is a pencil eraser. Ryan was probably never going to gchat me again, and there’s no way he’s really off his computer that much now he must be invisible.
I submitted my chapbook for publication on etsy’s Yarn Crafts section.
Ryan Schreiber says “hello” to me in the same way that a stone would say hello if it could talk and had just gotten over a bad breakup.
Some of you know that I started a blog called My Girl Zadie, which I never did anything with, as I was busy with school (or just lazy). While I can’t promise that I’ll ever have the commitment or time to devote an entire blog to one of my favorite authors in the whole world, I can promise…
Oh my voluptuous lady,
Your peripatetic perspicacity,
Has revved and made revel the carburettor of iniquity,
That I, taxonomist of desire, name Cardiac MuscleAnd if only your voluminous lips,
Would condescend to touch upon mine own shriveled mockeries of Mouthflesh (in comparison to yours),
I would senesce on the spot,
Metamorphosize into the Codger who would be your Beloved for years,
And we would hold hands as we drove our Phaeton in to that
Burning, Setting Sun that I
Taxonomist of desire
Name apoptosis.But I am a slender, bookish, pining, reedy suitor
And cannot compare to those Louts
Like Kevin, and Chad
Who make their wheelhouse Sport and so soar far above and beyond me in the Realms of Romance
Oh my beloved, couldst I not strike your heart as well with a well-placed Cupidic Arrow of Prose as Chad can by kicking a lemon shaped scrap of Vellum?Oh burning fire of Passion!
Oh Bitchdevil Muse!
I love you
I hate you
Why dont you like books
Why don’t you like when I quote Baudelaire at you
You motherfucker
You
You dumb whore
Go to homecoming with Kevin then
C A S S A N D R A
fyeahwriterleopard:(Submitted by lokiiagobaelish)
this is why that article gets featured on the lit tag me dudes.
