GET YOUR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER DUDER
if you had a bike you’d be fine. you’d be going to fast to think about how much of an asshole your best friend is. going so fast that all the truth of your words that hit him in his face wouldn’t make you feel shame. You’d only feel speed. So fast that your body disappears with the asphalt. i’d only have the beautiful terror of crashing into something, anything. the sweet sting of cuts, bruises, roadrash, memory loss. i’m in control of this wreckage of trying to be a damn “good” human being.
fuck all the ambiguous conflicts. fuck not being able to confront them. fuck all the hellbent lies. fuck this body i hate but people think is hot. fuck being supportive to people who annoy the shit out of you. fuck people who want you to open up more. fuck me for wanting people to open up to me. fuck straight people. fuck this apartment. fuck people who don’t dance at punk shows. fuck your logic. fuck all you gawkers on the street. fuck people for thinking i’m intimidating. fuck my dislocated legs. fuck your smarts. fuck your privileged notion of being entitled to the “ideal” radical loving relationship. fuck not being a fuck up.
it’s your own fucking fault
fuck your judgments of me getting recked
it’s me or you.
I interviewed the Malportado Kids for Impose and it was fun and fantastic. My favorite was probably when Victoria said, “If [white hippies] met my family, they’d probably expect to be greeted by a small Indigenous woman who talks about why we should fight. Like, that’s not my mom. My mom goes to Target.”
i have a week off in the end of June
Smelling Gun Powder on your Hand