Perpetual fangirl. Poetry lover. Liberal. A shipper, always.
How Origami Was Invented | Bob Hicok The last I went to confession was to whisper I like being alone. I was penanced to sing Stayin' Alive one hundred times. Solitude almost tastes like grapes, of course not but alone I can think such things, there's no one to counter strawberries. Particularly the Big Holidays are a good time to have a conversation with buildings, everyone's gone, to talk with buildings you merely lean against them, they do the rest, brick is thrilled to be touched, marble, I shun marble, so haughty. Cities need to be alone and oceans and the moon gets too much credit let's leave it out of this. I've been given vast sympathy for this affliction. Did you know the face of someone who thinks you're a loser slash psychotic looks like a photo of Nixon lifted from newspaper with Silly Putty and stretched? While thinking of that sentence remember this isn't a science. If I was not alone sometimes I'd all the time not want to be with people. This because we invented spandex and chit chat. Other species invent beehives and asexual reproduction and spots on wings that look like eyes but are just spots. Sometimes I wish the mouth looked like the mouth but was just the mouth being kissed. The mouth kissed both presents and works against solitude. If that idea was origami I'd refold it into a heron. I can't, not yet, but I'm alone this weekend and there's paper everywhere on which I've tried to write a clear path to you.