how do girls sit DOWN in things this short???

Tonight is SinCity. I’m hoping people will be there, but I’m hoping more that the laundry load with my underwear gets some time to dry before I head out the door. I am going to attempt to wear my little silk nightgown with my fishnets tonight. Not only is the hem above my knees, this is in fact the shortest thing I think I may have ever worn. When I say ever, I include being home alone and wandering around in tiny towels. Let’s put it this way: My coat is a full foot longer than this blue silk. I’m a wee bit scared. I remind myself that bravery is synonymous with stupidity and I tell myself to change. If laundry is done in time, I just may. If not, I will force myself into anime pigtails just to top the fear as much as possible and ride it out. Think of it like any other costume, (in spite of it showing above my knees), and leave attempting to feel brash. Really, it’s masochistic, but I’m trying to deal with some fairly strong ingrained prudishness.

Jump in – it’s only fire.
On some level I feel I deserve this. I scare people all the time, it’s damn well my turn. I look someone in the eyes and I hit them with thier own desires. No-one should ever be able to accuse me of playing with such things. I should carry them and hard. This is my come-uppance. My fronting for the words. I can be just as strong as I feel. Clench my teeth. Bite, hit, and punish this fear.

If I remember, I will have more certainty than you do. I will stare those demons down.

Our house is a house of language, ideas. This text and that music. My house is a place of no worship, but my gods will win. I have remembered how to smile. This child has not grown up, but this child, this child, oh! Let her grow claws. Let her take fangs and create a devil in red. whenever i’m alone with you, you make me feel like i am whole again I am wanting friends to be there tonight. Not people, not even simply friends. I want the older ones there. Experienced in ways that can see maybe who I’ll be someday. The ones that know me just well enough to have had to have me walk on glass next to them. The people that will note and repect that I don’t want thier helping hands, but appreciate them through hissing breaths. i’ll always love you It would be sweet to be able to dance through this. By the end of the evening, I want to be able to walk my way deathly through Upper Crackton without a glimmer of nervousness. I will be more aware of them than they are of me. I want by the end of this night to know I can do this and do it well.

Once when I was seven I went to a fosterhome.

I could trust you if I want to.

why an accordian? Why any of this? Where did it come from?

I went to write a letter today to someone and instead I seem to have spit out a tiny piece of fiction. I haven’t touched this at all. No editing. Barely a scan to check for spelling errors. Any thoughts?

*launch the accordion solo*

“This… you know what this is for”. She looks pointedly for a moment of silence at someone in the audience. Her dress is uninteresting but the way she holds the look says she wants you to want to find out what she could do with what’s underneath it. Then the voice begins. Her singing is a mix of spoken word and passionate scratch. Whisky voiced singing. Losing the notes singing. Suddenly, you are bored and feel like leaving. There’s nothing here you haven’t heard a hundred times before. You stretch a bit unobtrusively where you stand at the back and sneak a planning look at the exit across the room. Would it be better to wait until she’s done or simply walk out hunched over in front of everyone? You start to contemplate routes and it hits you. Being outside is an improvement, but you don’t even want to hang around. Your friends are in the next set, but it’s not even worth it. Outside the air is cooler. After the heat inside, it’s more than refreshing. You do it, just go. You know the girl on stage has seen you, but you don’t care. The look at the beginning wasn’t for you. She’s looking for someone to leave money on the table in the morning and last time it was supposed to be you, but last time you made certain she knew you weren’t interested. There’s people standing in the doorway, but it’s only a second to slip past them. The sky above is dark and you look up, letting the blue sooth your thoughts. Your arms involuntarily reach for the sky and you slip your shirt off over your head. The smokers give you a look, but you simply tuck it into the belt of your blue cut-offs. It’s the summertime, what should they care. Desire – you want to be out of this city. You want to be somewhere the streetlights don’t burn quite so orange. There’s a girl waiting for you out there. Now her it’s nice to see naked. You even know her name, but she’s somewhere far away. She’s next to the ocean, over the mountains. For a second you remember a snippet of your last conversation with her and you smile. It’s funny how life flows sometimes. You realize as you walk away from the club that you left half a beer unfinished on the counter and it doesn’t matter. You’re not going back.