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eurovision isnt about music its about being sexy or insane or both
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BEFORE THAT WOLF EATS MY GRANDMA GIVE THAT WOLF A BANANA
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The other day I told this guy that I know what I want and when I find it, I won’t refuse it. He liked that I was so decisive and honest which assured me a little. I did get some validation from it, it felt nice to be in space we had created where I could tell him that I wasn’t afraid of love, but rather, that I wasn’t impulsive in love. I’m 22, I’ve had plenty of time to try and figure myself out, and there is sure as hell more to figure out (that never stops) that the way I think about love has gradually gone over from being entirely emotionally driven to logically driven. There are obviously still components in the way I decide in love that are entirely emotionally driven but I don’t let my romantic heart steer the wheel as much as I used to. My heart, as I’ve grown to know her, isn’t always interested in the truth. She’s more involved in the what ifs and the hyper fixation of a potential earth shattering, face numbing, body shivering love. She shuts my brain out, the logical sibling who’s got so much to say and very little space to take. So as the operator of this body, I’ve learnt to send her (my heart) to her room whenever she speaks over my brain, and interrupts and starts fighting when things don’t go accordingly. I can’t let my brain be shut down every time I need to make a choice in love. I think of all the times I was disappointed in love and how things could’ve turned out had I only allowed my brain the time to speak, to tell me the truth I refused to see...
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Let the terrible
politicians practice / their terrible politics.
At my kitchen table, all will be fed.
— Barbara Crooker, from “Poem with an Embedded Line by Susan Cohen”
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