I keep finding weird toys and instruments in my pants.
Betty
Marjorie Kanter - At The Doctors
I don’t
Know what
Happened
But it’s
Not my
Body.
It’s a bilingual soireè of love, memories, and sensuality.
Helena Humphrey - Footnote
French:
The language of love,
Mon amour.
English:
The language of lust,
Baby.
But
"Je t'aime"
They shout on the streets.
"I love you"
Once and under the sheets.
Rather the rare I love you from my English man's lips,
Than the je t'aime that throbs from French mens' loins.
Who usually writes through a gynaecological eye,
dropped the speculum.
Troy Yorke - "Abandoned Reflection"
Take away this busted mirror
Take away the shards of me
Pull from me the spokes of reason
I want to lay in waste
Weeping for those who spoke too soon
And crushed their heads when the windows closed.
Anarchy at Culture Rapide: UkulHelen of Troy
And someone is leaving Paris:
I am not not good at goodbyes
I am worse at hellos,
making sloppy first impressions
like my first day of graduate school,
when I got wasted
(not on purpose,
it was not my fault)
it started as one drink,
to calm my nerves
as I sang along to the
“Sound of Music” soundtrack,
the confidence song,
I have confidence in sunshine, etc.
But it quickly turned into six drinks,
and me, at the orientation party,
telling the chair of my department
that his tie
was hot.
I retreated to my Californian apartment,
lonely and young,
the opposite of how I feel in Paris-
in particular when Alberto,
on his first visit to my house
came armed with a briefcase,
and opened it to reveal
two eggplants
like twins.
He said
“Megan, you gonna have the olive oil?”
I said,
“Yes, Alberto, I gonna have the olive oil”
and I felt home.
Megan Fernandes
Huge Hug.
See you soon.
Anywhere on this globe.
Next Episode:
31 May
Theme: Maps… les cartes géographiques
.JPG)
