outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


09.24.02, tuesday afternoon

Shortly (for those friends who would rather read my site to see how I am than call me. . . . Ahem): Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America; mysterious rash spreading over skin too itchy for romance; tubes of hydrocortisone and aloe vera gel; teatrea oil, please; burntblack quince syrup; fridge-cold can of Bud for burnt fingers; dipping feet thighs arms into Lake Temescal while trying not to squish the guppies swimming thickly ‘round ankles; women’s laughter, echoing within the narrow atrium that nearly cleaves the 1892 former boardinghouse where I sleep (gloved and itchy) and wake (gloved and itchy), surrounded by medication, paper books and instruments that weep ink on pink sheets. . . . Now: {insert first line of novel here}.




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