ohmyGUSHNESS Women.

I DIG chicks. I love women. They’re the most fascinating creatures in the multiverse, I swear. All females are the pork and beans and tomato sauce, but human ones just take the cup.

Not even my mad fascination with hermaphrodites which came from my reading Middlesex by Jefferey Eugenides (Sigh. Cal. Sigh) and Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami (Oshima!!) one after the other was able to wrest the yoghurt from women.

The swish of a skirt, back of a knee. Back dimples. Pretty calves. Giggles! The a thousand and ten ways they can make themselves look even more beautiful (accessories rock).

I swear. My day can be going as smellilyy as a finger that has been stuck into a moist and dirty navel until a girl looking pretty or a woman looking just so…womanly appears and shines her awesome, cleansing femininity on it. The softness. The tenderness. The violence. The scheming. The everything!

The nice fingers, shapes, the way a woman can just shake your week by being beautiful in ways that refuse to conform to the 27 documented kinds of beauty .

My newest girl crush is The Floacist. My goodness.  

This

 

Woman

is

GORGEOUS

MY GOODNESS.

SIGH.

On a very unrelated note, growth.

Growth is one searing pain in the bums. One minute, I’m in the zone. I’m as comfortable as no one but me has ever been. I read my articles, I laugh. I put fingers to keyboard, they fly. 

And the next I’m hating on every single adjective. I’m hating on the subjects I choose to write about. I’m staring down at my muse, disgustedly asking it what the hell it thinks its doing.

 

I used to despair whenever I’d get attacked by this feeling, but now because I know what it is, I’m OK. Not happy that I’m more likely to trash an acceptibly written article 5 minutes before my deadlinekicks me in the face, but tolerant of this mind PMS. Because its me getting better. Shedding. Growing up and over the place that I’m currently writing from.

 

JJJJYYYYEEEAAAAHHHHH!!

This week will be a good one. I have a feeling.

Dedike: Something ’bout a woman by Lady Antebellum (ona di replay)!

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About Tipsyalcophobic

"We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.' Bukowski, baby! Extremes ;-)

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