August 25, 2013 § Leave a comment
As the last blanket of night is thrown on this awkward-training-day of a city, the trio of Okcupid fairies settle on my roof, and the music rings out like a trendy emporium:
“All the other women,
Are younger, slimmer, and hotter than you,
That’s why you’re a reject (oh).
And they probably don’t do anything weirdly unfeminine,
Like sports, weightlifting, or, paradoxically, feminism.
And they have all read way more books,
Or way less, whichever is more attractive (these days).
They settle in dazzling fields like spring moths,
Drop Deleuze n’ Guatarri into off-the-cuff conversation as real-world examples,
And giggle because they are actually geishas.
Their shit is together,
Oh their shit is together.
They followed some inborn talent like a Christmas Star,
And it didn’t turn out to be crippling balderdash,
Which racked them like a traitor –
No, it didn’t twist them into a bit of a surly c*nt, really.
Yes, their shit is together (oh).”
(45 minutes of mind-frazzling humming)
Of course the truly schizophrenic part about this is that I don’t have a roof. And the singing fairies I suppose.