Sunday, February 15, 2009


I want to run down to the water and swim naked. I want to do this with a girl or with no one and it is better if it is raining or threatening to rain. Best at shark feeding time when there is an edge of threat and an unmistakable excitement. If I am there with a girl I will hug her hips at the crest of a wave, I will tangle my thighs with her thighs and we will not make love but the friction our bodies make against each other is excitement enough. If I am alone I will touch myself boldly beneath the swell and fuck them all if they see me in the moment of pleasure, it is their problem for watching. I am furious today.

I am back to the part of my endless cycle of emotions where I am riding high on anger, knowing that I am being judged by all those cute little cardigan girls who care more about who is looking at them than about what they might say if they are spoken to. I am 40 years old and this means they can all go play their coy little games. When I was the age that they are now they were judging me for my brashness and my honesty and my impolite size and weight, and now, two decades later, they are still judging me and for the same reasons only now we can add that I am old.

The cardigan girls: when they speak it is nothing to listen to, it is vacuous, it is naive and non-threatening for all those heterosexual boys who like that kind of thing. They look pretty though, we must give them that, but I am not anywhere near their subset. I have no point of connection. Winter is coming and I refuse to buy a cardigan.

Also I have given away my jacket that I bought because she looked so pretty in an identical one. I have lost my only two pairs of matching bras and knickers. The brown lipstick that I bought because you liked it better than red, does nothing for me. I can be no one but myself it seems, and you know what? I am fine, better than fine. I am the girl who is swimming alone in the ocean and masturbating under the waves and drawing in her sketchpad and looking hefty but somehow interesting and maybe not pretty, but certainly there is an odd kind of beauty there. I have beautiful eyes, I have a nice voice, I make beautiful art. You can keep your pretty cardigan girls and I will be happy alone with the ocean.

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