Saturday, January 21, 2012

her plog and bearls

Rockstar, you are NOT a Spike. But you were also only a dollar (at Smith's! sale! go now! capitalization is Inconsistent!), so now you are all I can taste.

Those last eight words - "so now you are all I can taste" - sound so sexy. I wish this blog was strictly erotic poetry and fiction (more like NON-fiction) written by me, but instead it's a bunch of manic, self-loathing, second-guessing words thrown together. WHICH IS TOTALLY COOL. That's why we have blogs! And diaries and pills and those lucky chosen few who get to hear us complain constantly (because to everyone else we are "with it" and have our "shit together").

I still like my blog, even when it is full of parentheticals and too-honest-confessions. Sure, my blog may essentially be a pair of sunglasses, but at least I am not getting anything squirted into my eye. See! I did it again! I really should look into the erotic poetry business - like it's even a business. It's an art.

No comments: