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The first step was wearing pink. She had pink earrings and a pink button down shirt with a black cashmere pullover and wide-leg red shorts. she was always one for a theme. she waited for her mother to ignite the festivities. the pollen had finally gotten to her, and she began to wonder if she was ok. she often felt like a total prostitute. in the fact that she was selling herself. her agreement. her peace.
the spring was hitting hard and she was here for it. the yellow chalk dust that was thrown in the air and on all surfaces - that was sperm of the new year. She thought of going to savannah and how strange it would be to manufacture anything. it all had to be real, and sometimes what she thought was that she loved the idea of being wanted. she heard that she wasn't alone in that.
kent had given her a ginkgo tree. he was watching it bud in its cracked plastic pot and she marveled. the rest of the plants remained barely tethered to life.
she had talked to her aunt so much - so much almost non-stop. and most all of it was related to connecting with a man - and the options for doing so.
her beauty had faded, and she paid money to prop it up.
that was a hard lesson to eat.
It made her laugh that at LIII, she still went, "this is to erase my father".
the heat turned on in her house, and she paid money even though it was going to hit 70 today. Things had to catch up. Even this was a writing test. Yesterday, she had - or was it the day before - fed her astrology into the local aI and it had told her to write a book and that it would be revolutionary.
no pressure.
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