Jackson

I’d like to talk to him. Say, “What the fuck?” Give him a chance to explain. Read more

It’s 35 minutes to midnight on the 4th of January. If I can tell you that this one room holds all candles— tapers, tealights, pillars, plain white power-outage poles, small votives for struggling souls, delicate dinner-party decoratives— in all scents— sandalwood, ylang ylang, rose, smoke, vanilla, mint, and many nameless synthetics, novel, teasing, but ultimately Read more

I walk up & down the platform reading Charles Bukowski, feeling more & more depressed from all that truth I couldn’t get a date with that exciting man He’s been chatting me up from a distance using technology But he backs away when I try to get some reality Maybe he knows I want to Read more

5th of October 2008. Capitalism is teetering, tripping, reeling. At 1:25am on a Sunday morning I’m not at an anarchist punk gig. I’m awoken by a scream on TV. Samantha (12) has friends “sleeping” over. I get up, yell “for fuck’s sake, Samantha!” and go back to bed. I dream the New York Stock Exchange Read more

What d’you reckon? Am I just another stupid woman trying to write on the train trying to transcend its lurches and rocks and sways as it makes up for its delay? I love riding on the train and the bus and waiting in the bus-station, so 70s, so grimy, with ads for trouser drycleaning on Read more

This is not my house. Waves of patchouli oil. This aromatherapy my suffocation. What would I have? Roses and coffee and nothing and jasmine coming in the windows First published in dotdotdash Read more