 |
| like you better if you just ride me |
but mama's tired right now and mama's been drinking since sometime you don't need to know about.
& mama's got to get through the announcements.
mama's gots to stand up and practice reading the nominees out loud.
mama can't pass out at the podium cos she'll fall over and there'll be no one to catch her cos the trophy girls all weigh about 80 pounds and they'll be lucky if they can move their anorexic skeletons outta the way quick enough and mama'll hit her head and maybe her skirt'll fall off somehow like gregor samsa's mum in the metamorphosis.
mama never wants to be a bug.
mama squashes the bugs she sees in her house. she's gots a deal with the insects: they intrude on her turf, she squashes them. she intrudes on their turf, too motherfucking bad, biotches; she squashes them still.
& this is the time if announcements bore you to close your eyes and think about mustache rides...mmmm Sam motherfuckingElliotyesyesyesyesohmygodyesmustachemamalikesohyesmamayesmustachefuckmemustachefuckme...
1. Just saw the proof of my chapbook Orpheus on toast. Available soon. Maybe sooner than you stop thinking about that mustache.
2. Abjective just took one of my balaclava anarchist stories. Expect it up in December.
3. FictionDaily will be featuring my story, "If I don't leave the house, I won't know I'm in the South" tomorrow 11/04.
4. I am now on twitter as Homegirlrc. Some punk kid accosted me on twitter cos I was calling myself Homegirl. I don't really know what he was saying cos I ignored him cos I don't even really know what twitter is. I'm just trying to get the attention of Sam Elliot's mustache. Sam Elliot's mustache must have an account. Like I said, I don't know what twitter's really for but if twitter could set me up with Sam Elliot's mustache I think that would be reason enough for it to exist.
Seriously.
Thinking bout you, mustache, when i'm cold,
Ryder
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