outwait outrun outwit


an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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Wandering through snowfall while dodging drunken carolers, I think: You, lady, are taking yourself too seriously. Just worry about the state of your fly (open again?) after hot ports and utopia theory at the pub. Ignore the hairball in your throat. Remember to eat. Toast smeared with duck fat and easy peelers for dinner? Go ahead! Don't get embarrassed if all you want to do on the first Saturday night to yourself is lie in bed with a hot-water bottle and watch videos of cats eating yogurt, ice cream, sour apple lollipops etc. Guffaw. Snort. Squint contentedly into the darkness at the disorder of your bedroom: it's only clothes and books. Sleep loose-limbed. Dream of cocktail sausages, hummingbirds, Love and Rockets. Take it easy.


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