An education

Growing up requires from us our dreams. Dreams have to disappear; they tend to get in the way of life. We learn – sometimes only the hard way – what our gifts really are. Mostly I learned through the world’s benign neglect: by people not paying as much attention to me as I thought I must deserve. It turned out that I didn’t have an ounce of talent for photography – or for painting or music or sculpture or pottery or acting. Over the next few years, a lot of my big hopes were unpinned, and flew away. Everything I learned that summer took time to sink in: that real confidence includes not knowing everything. The most important lesson I learned – the world was a lot bigger than I had imagined it to be – was a little painful. It meant I was a lot smaller than I’d realized.

– Sallie Tisdale
Featured in nostalgia, Vogue July 2011
Advertisements

I’m a perfect wife for a dead man.




Don’t trust me, I’m a total dickface liar
Don’t listen to me, I’m a hard dick, fuckface, lying cheat coward liar
I’m a liar

Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo on you
Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo on you

Don’t make love
To any part of me
My dick tells lies
Just like my son-of-a-bitch face
Don’t undress
In my house
My house is
A terrible camera
A camera
With fangs and shit

Sha-doobie, uh-uh
Sha-doobie, sha-coo
Sha-doobie
Da-da-da-da-da-da

Don’t eat that roast on my table
We fucked up on that table
Don’t tell me my whistling is good
Whistling’s dead
And we both
Know that

I’m alone in these woods that we call life
You’re a perfect wife for a dead man
And that’s not me
If you are still there in the dark
Don’t reach out to feel my heart

You will only mush your perfect phalange
Into my demon-turd of a soul
Your hand would go into my satanic cheeseburger
AKA My heart’s vagina …