I am at the state fair looking at pigs and goats and alpacas and tractors and I see a bunch of damnable kids carrying bags of the saddest damnable goldfish. They’re swinging and shaking and I’m looking at these bags of sad fish and I’ll be damned if half of them aren’t already sloshing around in there dead as ever. I am just hoping this makes them cry. I am hoping their moms will go to the pet shop and buy them a little tank of quick happy little silver fish and teach them the goddamnable power of love. I can see it now, she tells her little creep of a son with creepy little monkey toes and a compulsive hand sanitizing habit to “put in just a little pinch” of food and he does so and she cheers and claps, and she’s making a huge surreal hullabaloo and her eyes get all dark and she grows and grows and grows taller and she’s just clapping and squealing and the boy chews on his thumb.
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catsashes posted this
The Great Poetic Testing of Hypotheses. It's a big red bow of ticker tape. You can see humanity in its eyes as you approach it with your overlarge scissors at the grand reopening of "I was just taking a personal call in a goddamn phone booth and the motherfucker just shot me in the head." In some weeks and months and days you will find that, indeed, you are dead. I am Jess. I am an English Creative Writing Student at the University of Iowa. Ask me stuff. Be interested, be interesting.
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