I started this blog (I know this is Tumblr, for chrissakes and there’s the thought that Tumblr is not a blog, just a poorly spelled dump truck) because I needed someplace semi-private. I will not be using my name. I’m sure through some Google-fu you could figure out who I was. I have a few blogs online but I feel like LJ is imploding, which is the nature of the beast I suppose....
Keep the past in the past.
Sometimes all I can remember from past relationships is a certain zit. I remember one ex-boyfriend, in particular. I can picture his face, his glasses, his teeth. But my distinct memory is awash in what was my apprehension upon seeing a small blackhead in the centre of his chest. “Why won’t you let me get that?” Of course, this was near the end.
Headgear from Lula #9
The great wide open.
My heart had cracks in it, and gradually, these were filled again. It is a nice, decent dream to think of a love that exists outside of reality; it is giddy and full and answers all questions. It is like kissing the inside of your locker, adorned with hearts and smeared ink photos cut from magazines. It is just outside of reach and makes your forehead sweat and you can’t tell your parents...
(photo: Jak & Jil) Killing it. Once again, mama.
I had been thinking about dysphagia, about how tongues are trained to wrap around and push, and then, after awhile, they just can’t do that anymore. Muscles relax until they just go slack.