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madeleine

summer look 24/7

this time last year

this time last year

let’s talk some more about what a slut helen is

let’s talk some more about what a slut helen is

let’s kill our stepdad because men like a woman with character

let’s kill our stepdad because men like a woman with character

unrelated (?) messages

Look At All This Borscht

Look At All This Borscht

knowing that you’re leaving the country soon is a way to allow for certain things in the place you’re leaving. you tell someone you love them. you are not afraid to be loose and excessive and embarrassing, too much. you look at everything with a double-eye, the eye of the moment and the future eye. how to keep this feeling. how to keep it when you want to stop leaving but not stop feeling like you’re leaving

leaving paphos ringed with waves

Can you believe my mother’s father, an elevator engineer with six seventies suntanned sexy surfer daughters, he was given medals for dragging his mate gushing blood from the ocean after a shark attack. The friend died on the beach in his arms. That’s not a war but in my fake Kodachromemory it looks like one, one from a movie. My mother hated to go out on the boat with him. It was a kind of torture, to be yelled at, to be always wrong, to be weak and to not be a boy. She’s got long brown skinny legs like my brothers and became a scientist. In fact she cures cancer with radio waves, sometimes I mean, sometimes she doesn’t cure it, but I don’t quite understand because I’m stupid and nobody ever wished for me to be a boy so I never had to try. We swim like fishes together very far out beyond the break and beyond the buoys and the shark net and the crab pots to where the water’s dense and black. She used to go to church not to pray but to sing but now she just sings in the sunshine. One cool day right before my 21st birthday driving a long way together through the suburbs to pick up a cake I played Your Silent Face and we sat in the airconditioned chill waiting at a red light kind of tearing up and I said I’ve been listening to this all week and she said I remember listening to this right when I turned 21. The light changed. We drove off.

leaving paphos ringed with waves

Can you believe my mother’s father, an elevator engineer with six seventies suntanned sexy surfer daughters, he was given medals for dragging his mate gushing blood from the ocean after a shark attack. The friend died on the beach in his arms. That’s not a war but in my fake Kodachromemory it looks like one, one from a movie. My mother hated to go out on the boat with him. It was a kind of torture, to be yelled at, to be always wrong, to be weak and to not be a boy. She’s got long brown skinny legs like my brothers and became a scientist. In fact she cures cancer with radio waves, sometimes I mean, sometimes she doesn’t cure it, but I don’t quite understand because I’m stupid and nobody ever wished for me to be a boy so I never had to try. We swim like fishes together very far out beyond the break and beyond the buoys and the shark net and the crab pots to where the water’s dense and black. She used to go to church not to pray but to sing but now she just sings in the sunshine. One cool day right before my 21st birthday driving a long way together through the suburbs to pick up a cake I played Your Silent Face and we sat in the airconditioned chill waiting at a red light kind of tearing up and I said I’ve been listening to this all week and she said I remember listening to this right when I turned 21. The light changed. We drove off.

my four male housemates love to baby me
they cluck like mothers
if mothers were stoner skaters with start-ups
who call when I’m home late
and leave little notes and cling-wrapped sandwich halves. for this reason checking the locks,
turning the lights out when everyone is in bed
gives me a sense of the most satisfying power. who 
knew the Father-feeling was so easily
accessible? – in that one gesture.

my four male housemates love to baby me
they cluck like mothers
if mothers were stoner skaters with start-ups
who call when I’m home late
and leave little notes and cling-wrapped sandwich halves. for this reason checking the locks,
turning the lights out when everyone is in bed
gives me a sense of the most satisfying power. who
knew the Father-feeling was so easily
accessible? – in that one gesture.

anne carson / mary magdalene’s oilpot

when it was found in france in a field it was being used as a scarecrow

when it was found in france in a field it was being used as a scarecrow