I think most people who talk incessantly about feminism and gender roles and being “at one” with your body are the people who are most uncomfortable with their own sexuality and body and life. Everyone I know who is super comfortable with their sexuality (this includes most of the people I surround myself with, because they’re the only ones I relate to) DON’T NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT. Your droning on and on about feminism and being natural and loving everyone and blah blah blah is a weak cover for you total insecurity and awkwardness. News flash: those of us who are ACTUALLY like that do not need to mention it. I have met loads of these people, too. On their Facebook or blog or in their essays they talk like some sexual philanthropist, but when you meet them they’re awkward, stuttering dweebs who can barely form a sentence. Stop trying to school us. You are the ones with the problem, not us. Same exact argument goes for the people with the opposite viewpoint. Those right wing crazies who go on and on about sex being between a man and woman and modesty and whatnot. All I’m saying is the actual healthy people are the ones you never hear talk about this.
“little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won’t flinch and
I won’t blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
I won’t blame you,
instead
I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and I won’t use it
yet.”
—Raw With Love, Charles Bukowski (via sodade)
This is why he is my favorite poet.
(via itsherfactory)
Me and the man.
Sailor. Miraculously fitting into boxes WAY too small for him since 2005.
Hey, Santorum!
“Seconds ticked by as the sun made its lazy journey from the right side of their property to the left, and began to recline. Dew gathered, birds called out, the blades of grass broke their posture beneath the pressure of the midday sun, then the flies returned, the crickets sang their chorale, and the windows were closed against the evening breeze.”
—And once again- again- again, back to work on my novel. The thing I am most passionate about in the world.
I have two best girlfriends in the world. This is one of them, with me at a Halloween party my fiancé was playing at. I adore this picture so much. We both look so peaceful, and so US.
