uneven

Checkers is played on a board with red and black squares, closer to the red of tomatoes than the purple of cherries. It is not an
interesting game, it moves in lines


....

absolutely beautiful the letter

to let you know that I always feel a bit like reality cracks open a bit at the seams every now and then

¿no?

A young Scottish yoga professor’s Buddhist name is sudaka, which is homonym for sudaca, extremely offensive slur for South American. The flier is purple.


I want the experience of you more than I want the experience of writing you.

I’ve started wearing makeup.

met with the lawyer about the “house of the falling balcony”, wearing the strange punk cheerleader dress with two count two pairs of tights, black with cocoa fishnet, red sunglasses lipstick and went to sit in a turquoise and orange bar


the sun was out and it was raining,

The chemically extruded aioli glimmered under the fluorescent bulb of the vitrina, and the peppers to left looked as though they had been cut with a saw by the dueñas grandfather who vacantly preoccupied himself around the room.

You can tell that I’m hungry and want to take off the stockings.


Varicose veins still jumping out of my flesh, stockings still responsible for an agenda full of subtly disguised men´s names.


I wish this were typewriter, I might enjoy hearing the big key go clack at the end of a row.


When I hear myself typing sometimes I expect to turn to spot my mother looking up scratching her head and taking a drag off a cigarette while she pauses to comment. The beige nubbed cushion on the wooden chair. The blinds, and the absence of sound. The feng shui of the desk always struck me as wrong. Facing the window, if there was a window, which in most American homes one’s back is always to the door, if one is facing the window. Having his back to the door has always made my father very nervous.

My skirt looks like a Christmas tree crossed with a very cheap Venetian lamp. Marie Antoinette is in. Its all greasers and skins these days.

Unchanged. I found myself watching youtube videos on pinup hair: in part because I found them bizarre- who makes this, and why and of course, it’s audience. No, because, my lost inner child, who still conceives of sexual attraction as an external phenomenon, could not have imagined such a simulacrum for friendship. Here, now, in your home, a pretty british girl showing how to wrap neatly sectioned hair around foam, and hold it all in with bobby pins. it sucked me in.

…

Although my mother is not against staring at a wall, as long as it moves.


My mother
In my memory has dirty folded up crossword puzzles in her purse in case she gets bored.
sometimes knitting, and always several crumpled tissues.