… she's not coming down 'til it all makes sense again…

The Grape had legs

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ralph lauren duvet

Can’t sleep… extreme cutting remorse… I found this gorgeous king-sized duvet at the Army of Salvation for, sigh, highway robbery,$15… it was ENORMOUS, just miles and miles of the most beautiful fabric, it’s made of something like, woven magical soft sleek hummingbird wings.. I hoarded it away in the linen closet for 2 YEARS because its regal British colonialist imperialist beauty hurt my retinas, and its softness made me to bleat like a little goat. Yesterday in my madd cozy-sewing frenzy, I cut it into a smaller duvet, and sewed an old crappy comforter inside. Permanent installation. Also, cutting is permanent. Also, I did a crappy job of it, I cut corners, didn’t trim it out properly, didn’t over-stitch, didn’t press down the seams,  just cranked it out. And it looks okayyyyish… but I really shoulda… aaaaaaa.. wutever, let it go… It’s a pretty comforter now. It’s soft and cool to the touch… not covering ME right now, I’m freezing, but the dogs are swirled into it, all blissed out…  Plus, I have about 4 yards of leftover bits! I’m rich!!






Speaking of burning retinas, Dave friggin’ Navarro, good lord, can you turn down the weird sorta ethereal/satanic, piercing, chiseled, or rather, carved from alabaster ridiculous BEAUTY that is your FACE?! It pains me to look at you. And yet I can’t turn away. I don’t feel I’m crushing on Dave Navarro, he’s 12 years old, and I’m not that wild about his personality… Just admiring another of God’s strangely weird but beautiful creations.. (also, he doesn’t have a bad personality, I just can’t trust someone who always sounds so reasonable…)

Should I illustrate this paragraph, I don’t know: Yesterday an engorged tic must’ve fallen off of Chicken as he entered the house. Because it landed on the rug by the sliding glass door. I came upon it, thinking it was a grape one of the kids dropped from the dining room table, and so I reached down and picked it up, LIKE YA DO. And then I saw that the grape had legs. Little tiny wiggling legs, poinking out of it’s massive, taut, bloated, distended body. Oh, the waves of revulsion are still passing through me, 16 hours later… Ahhhhh, country livin’…






And what about Naomi?

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