just published

July 15, 2014

All Good Cretins Go To HeavenThe Inner Condition

 

The Ramones are the sonic version of my worn-in leather jacket. Comfortable, as familiar to me as my own skin, but putting it on still makes me feel more badass, and more like myself, than almost anything else. I have heard their music practically every day for what feels like my whole fucking life, and there’s still nothing else like it. I hear that 1-2-3-4, I hear those simple, pounding drumbeats, that chugging bass, the grind and whine of the guitar and the spaced-out nasal throaty voice, hey ho, and I am ready to change my name to Jessie Ramone and declare I will love Joey and Dee Dee and Tommy and Johnny until the end of time.

 

Poem Written In Red Pen (or: Write the Pain Away) @ The Rain, Party, & Disaster Society

 

He said he wouldn’t have sex with me if I wasn’t on The Pill.
I hate wearing condoms, and I don’t want you to get pregnant. You’d be
the same kind of mom that Sylvia Plath was.
The girl-poet mom. To be a girl poet means you have to
be more focused on your work than on your children. I wrote a poem:
I do not want to be
the kind of mother who
sticks her head in ovens.
We had a gas stove in our apartment. I laughed about it.
Then I wept.

 

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