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10 Things


1.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
He kisses me 
hard.
2.
My college theater professor once told me
that despite my talent,
I would never be cast as a romantic lead.
We do plays that involve singing animals
and children with the ability to fly,
but apparently no one
has enough willing suspension of disbelief
to go with anyone loving a fat girl.
I daydream regularly
about fucking my boyfriend vigorously on his front lawn.
3.
On the mornings I do not feel pretty,
while he is still asleep,
I sit on the floor and check the pockets of his skinny jeans for motive,
for a punchline,
for other girls’ phone numbers.
4.
When we hold hands in public,
I wonder if he notices the looks —
like he is handling a parade balloon on a crowded sidewalk;
if he notices that my hands are now made of rope.
5.
Dear Cosmo: Fuck you.
I will not take sex tips from you
on how to please a man you think I do not deserve.
6.
He tells me he loves me with the lights on.
7.
I can cup his hip bone in my hand,
feel his ribs without pressing very hard at all.
He does not believe me when I tell him he is beautiful.
Sometimes I fear the day he does will be the day he leaves.
8.
The cute hipster girl at the coffee shop
assumes we are just friends
and flirts over the counter.
I spend the next two weeks
mentally replacing myself with her
in all of our photographs.
When I admit this to him
we spend the evening taking new photos together.
He will not let me delete a single one of them.
9.
The phrase “Big girls need love too” can die in a fire.
Fucking me does not require an asterisk.
Loving me is not a fetish.
Finding me beautiful is not a novelty.
I am not a fucking novelty.
10.
I say, ‘I am fat.’
He says, ‘No. You are so much more’,
and kisses me
hard.
”
— Rachel Wiley

a boy years later

boekbinder sisters.


Born on a bitter winter night
their mother screamed at the sight.
the doctor yelled "It isn't right!"
He left them alone in fright
for hours.

The sisters lay there,
one was rosy and one was fair
the only thing that they shared
is that they were connected
by the ends of their long red hair.

As they grew older their mother grew to love them
she couldn't bear to cut their hair
as it grew longer they grew apart
what only they knew is that they shared one heart
their blood flowed through their long red hair
they never thought to cut it, they wouldn't dare.

The sisters lived there
each loved the things
the other couldn't bear
the only thing that they shared
is that they were connected
by the ends of their long red hair.

One day the fair skinned sister met a man
while the rosy sister was at a news stand
they fell in love at first start
soon they were married and on their wedding night

The sisters lay there
one loved the man but the other didn't care
the only thing that they shared
is that they were connected by the ends of their long red hair

The man began to kiss his wife
he intended to perform the marriage right
but the rosy sister was still in sight
from far across the room their hair pulled tight
The man could not perform so he left her room
but he returned, very soon
he pulled out the scissors he pinched from the kitchen
and cut their hair down the middle

The sisters lay there
blood, poured from the ends of their hair
Now they both looked fair
In fact 'was the only thing that they shared

Except that they both had white hair

A Boekbinder's Twisted Tale.


Monday's child is fair of face (narcissist)
Tuesday's child is full of grace (a little stiff)
Wednesday's child is full of woe (whatever)
Thursday's child has far to go (get out)
Friday's child is kind and giving (sucker)
Saturday's child works hard for a living (overachiever)
But the child that was born on the Sabbath Day
Is blithe and bonny and good and gay

I'm so angry
and, oh, how I cried
Why, oh, why do I have to be
Wednesday's child?

Austen, I present you a storytelling song.
Pray, aren't you a Wednesday's Child?

The Village Pet Store and Charcoal Grill

Banksy's unique little pet store like no other .

villagepetstore.jpg

While New Yorkers have been consumed by the stock market meltdown, a tiny little pet store quietly opened four days ago at 89 7th Avenue between West 4th and Bleeker Street in the West Village of New York City.

There are no puppies or kittens in the windows here.

Instead, a live leopard lounges on a tree in the window.

Or is it?

villagepetstore2.jpg


In other windows, things get a bit more bizarre.

McDonald's Chicken McNuggets sip barbecue sauce. A rabbit puts on her makeup. A CCTV camera nurtures its young.

chicken1.jpg

banksyrabbit.jpg


Clearly, that this isn't your typical pet store.
So who's the "owner" of the Village Pet Store and Charcoal Grill at 89 West 7th Avenue?


Banksy. (Read more)

Someone please take me to New York now.
Banksy, my Mr. One-of-a-Kind.
I honestly wish I was more articulate to be able to describe Banksy a whole lot better,
but I suppose I shall just leave that to Wikipedia.

Take care, beautiful.

A song by the president's wife


L'amoureuse

Il semble que quelqu'un ait convoqué l'espoir
Les rues sont des jardins, je danse sur les trottoirs
Il semble que mes bras soient devenus des ailes
Qu'à chaque instant qui vole je puisse toucher le ciel
Qu'à chaque instant qui passe je puisse manger le ciel

Les clochers sont penchés les arbres déraisonnent
Ils croulent sous les fleurs au plus roux de l'automne
La neige ne fond plus la pluie chante doucement
Et même les réverbères ont un air impatient
Et même les cailloux se donnent l'air important

Car je suis l'amoureuse, oui je suis l'amoureuse
Et je tiens dans me mains la seule de toutes les choses
Je suis l'amoureuse, je suis ton amoureuse
Et je chante pour toi la seule de toutes les choses
Qui vaille d'être là, qui vaille d'être là

Le temps s'est arrêté, les heures sont volages
Les minutes frissonnent et l'ennui fait naufrage
Tout paraît inconnu tout croque sous la dent
Et le bruit du chagrin s'éloigne lentement
Et le bruit du passé se tait tout simplement

Oh, les murs chagent de pierres,
Le ciel change de nuages,
La vie change de manières et dansent les mirages
On a vu m'a-t-on dit le destin se montrer
Il avait mine de rien l'air de tout emporter
Il avait ton allure, ta façon de parler

Car je suis l'amoureuse, oui je suis l'amoureuse
Et je tiens dans me mains la seule de toutes les choses
Je suis l'amoureuse, je suis ton amoureuse
Et je chante pour toi la seule de toutes les choses
Qui vaille d'être là, qui vaille d'être là


It seems someone conveid hope
Streets are gardens, I dance on the sidewalks
It seems my arms became wings
That in every moment that flies I can touch the sky
That in every moment that goes by I can eat the sky

The bell towers are tilted, the trees are in a nonsense
They collapse under the flowers on the most red of autumn
Snow doesn't melt anymore, rain is slowly singing
And even streetlights have an impatient sight
And even stones want to look important

Because I'm the lover, Yes I'm the lover
And I hold in my hands the only of all things
I'm the lover, I'm your lover
And I sing for you the only of all things
That needs to be here, that needs to be here

Time stopped, hours are changing
The minutes are freezing and the boredom makes wreck
Everything seems unknown, everything crunches under the teeth
And the noise of sorrow slowly goes away
And the noise of the past is just silent now

Oh, the walls change their stones
The sky changes his clouds
The life changes manners and dance mirages
It was seen was I told that destiny showed up
He looked like nothing, seemed to take everything
He got your look, your manner of speak

Because I'm the lover, Yes I'm the lover
And I hold in my hands the only of all things
I'm the lover, I'm your lover
And I sing for you the only of all things
That needs to be here, that needs to be here

The Green Ribbon.

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