mama thinks one of her fetishes might be balaclavaed anarchists. they pop up in all her stories & even her novel. she has balaclavaed babies running & smashing & laughing in her dreams & up at Abjective (rip dear litmag) & soon to be in barge.
another might be garage doors. or chainlink fences.
mama's not gonna go all deep on her fetishes tho, like remittance girl's deep & insightful post. remittance girl is a writer of the erotic & she thinks hard & long about this stuff. she writes about the fuckings while mama writes about the fucked-up.
if you know mama or if you've read Homegirl!, you know that's not completely true, either...
mama's friends w remittance girl on the tweets & mama really admires rg's post, yo. mama's also friends w other writers & one of them twitted about how if you're a writer you shouldn't front about the alcohols, that drinking does not make you cool...
mama's afraid she fetishizes the alcohols. she's always telling you to get her a highball. she's drinking a manhattan right now. she loved bukowski when she was twenty. she loved mickey rourke for barfly. & she still loves barfly. sometimes for fun she runs through cornfields & steals the green corns. sometimes for fun she reads highball recipes on the interwebs. she's codenamed every one of her exes for some kind of highball.
the last one was the salty dog & the one before the dark & stormy.
now mama's getting all racisty.
boo.
but the one she'll always love is buck's fizz.
mama has no idea what that means & mama can also get behind others' fetishes sometimes. even when she doesn't get them. glitter, for instance.
or glitter jesus.
mama was gonna inventory the reoccurring tropey fetish things from her writings but this manhattan's her second & now all mama can think about is the anarchist & the chainlink fence & mama's got his balaclava off & he's doing things to mama that are better without the balaclava...
unless you gots a wool fetish.
& mama'll leave you with this, yo.
yours,
ryder
