TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations & other curiosities :: profile 12.06.03, saturday morning Today I'm a locked box, small and steel and as gray as the Oakland sky. But don't look for a skeleton key; inside lie ugly things, barbed things that aren't necessarily weapons but hurt when touched, a meanness cultivated by these (friend-, money-, patience-) lean times. |