feminism, jazz and later

even after washing my jakcet pocket pretty well, twice if precision is your thing, it still feels and faintly smells of the lunch that was lost and quickly found a few nights ago (or at least what i think was a few nights ago…). if i didn’t know any better i’d say that all of these days received proper military or olympic training with the way they all run together so naturally and seamlessly. there’s a very specific timelessness to it all that seems to only become more obvious with the passing of the [any measurement of time that you choose. they’re all the same]. i want to get ahead of myself; very soon. to favorably rest on the side of good fortune is just too fucking appealing. “…on the outside.” most days have at least one quality moment of celebratory arm-raising.
of all the bastards and impostors in this world, it’s become clear that you’re
one of my favorite. it’s nothing earth shattering but it IS getting time to learn
a new cupcake recipe.

feminism, jazz and later

ian brock

Clarksville, United States

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  • lawrie .
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