“Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.” – Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
face
“You’re doing a good job being used like a filthy whore, sweetheart.”
When he reassures me like this, even the filthiest stuff somehow becomes sweet and intimate. I feel safe and cared for and brave and loved. Maybe that’s kind of weird, but it makes me happy.
I love that earnest face men make sometimes when they’re doing this.
“Say please, Sweetheart. Use words.”
My favorite animal being cute.
A gorgeous leg tattooed with a face that looks a little like mine.
Sounds about right.
Sometimes, you just need to let go and lose yourself completely for a little bit.
Often, the best kind of release is long before you’re untied.
“leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are papier mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them." – Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell, a poem by Marty McConnell.
Well, I got the results of my biospy for that freckle today. It’s benign!
There has been a lot of cancer in my immediate and extended family and I’m naturally a little bit of a worrier, so sometimes I just assume the worst. I was pretty flippant about the whole thing to most people, but there was a little nag in the back of my head that maybe it was something worse.
But, fuck you, cancer, you haven’t caught up yet.
Once my face heals up completely, I can continue my sexytimes in peace. Amen.
That’s the face of getting much more than you’ve bargained for.