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Ain't nobody care.
today is the month anniversary of the 'king Leon' piece - or the day she told him "good mother fucking god - what the fuck dude - do you fucking hate me and are playing me? what the fuck gives?!!!"
she wonders if she felt "safe" to him.
Apparently that's what all of his ilk kind of want - the ole mommarino.
but oh well.
she was just a human weirdo being weird and giving life a try.
She wondered and wandered around her home in her wearable blanket and dreamed of being the .01% that got into the Paris Review. She had done maybe the tiniest bit of preparation, but she was prepared.
no she wasn't.
she woke up at last night at 2amPt kind of as an homage to a mirage. she drank a beer and remembered when you might have been here, but if you were here - it was just bullshit anyhoo - just a bit of fodder for a lost boy who wanted some ego droppings.
who was she to judge?
all she wanted was someone to say "girl, I fucking see you, and I love what I see"
maybe in the next world...
ain't nobody care.
and more importantly, that new batch of Marcella Hazan's pasta sauce wasn't going to eat itself at 9:34 in the morning....
come on.
live dammit
live....
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