prepositions & combinatory logic

overvalued and oversexed is love; undervalued and oversexed is slut-shaming; overvalued and undersexed is on antidepressants; but undervalued and undersexed is just plain rudeness.

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time doth flit; oh, shit.

as soon as i make peace with the idea that it’s too late to die young, it dawns on me that it’s also too late to be a young divorcée. ah, to be 21 again…

Posted in Curriculum vitae, Just for the hell of it, Nothing fails like success | Leave a comment

an example of why counter-intuitiveness makes for the best definitions

reality: the ultimate proof that darwin would never have made it in a darwinistic world.

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the little slut-shamer: a morality play

act 1: a boy meets a slut

“Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.”

“I am a fox,” the fox said.

“Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I am so unhappy.”

act 2: the slut plays coy

“I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed.”

act 3: the boy plays dumb

“What does that mean–‘tame’?”

“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. It means to establish ties.”

“‘To establish ties’?”

act 4: the slut starts wavering

“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world . . .”

act 5: the boy makes his move and alludes to his one true love

“I am beginning to understand,” said the little prince. “There is a flower . . . I think that she has tamed me . . .”

act 6: the slut’s self-esteem lowers

“It is possible,” said the fox. “On the Earth one sees all sorts of things.”
“My life is very monotonous,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat . . .”

act 7: the slut begs

The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
“Please–tame me!” she said.

act 8: the boy plays coy

“I want to, very much,” the little prince replied. “But I have not much time. I have friends to discover, and a great many things to understand.”

act 9: the slut gives in

“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . .”

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near–

act 10: the boy blames the slut and goes away

“Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.”

“It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . .”

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choreographic ontologies (or: the birth of herpes)

rose is a rose is a rose is a sore

Posted in Boulder-pushers, Just for the hell of it, Pun intended | Leave a comment

the only true reason blogs exist is that good friends will always stop you from writing offensive stuff on bathroom stalls

if you need any clue as to whom not to date
think of the last presidential mandate
of some society here in york.
the man doesn’t look like a dork
so you won’t guess he’ll treat you like dirt.
if his undersized clothes are not reason enough
i’ll give you something else for a laugh:
not to date a hot man, one needs this trigger –
you won’t know if his brain or his penis is bigger.

Posted in Adored fascists, Just for the hell of it, Sentimental Valium, Stuck in the middlebrow | Leave a comment

ach, du

who?

Posted in Adored fascists, Résumés, Sentimental Valium, Yellow Notebook | Leave a comment