exploring diabetes with owls

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Too Americana for words. Though I pretend to be, there’s no part of me that’s even slightly urbane. I leave my front door unlocked, for chrissakes. But I do look damn citified in my spiffy New Look suit. Some outfits make me feel capable of sucker-punching the universe and licking the blood off my knuckles, and this was one of them. It would even blend in with all the red.

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I’ve seen other bloggers report roundups of the media they’re consuming, and I think that might be fun. My tastes, however, are embarrassingly antiquated. I read posts about “top ten albums of the year”, and I’m all “did ten albums even come out this year?” This is not the place to go to be hip to all the young lads. This is just what I like.

I enjoy a fair few modern musicians too. I’ve seen Carbon Leaf four times and I’m gunning for a fifth. But generally speaking, with music as with most things, the older the better. Hearing a song I know has been passed down since I was but a twinkle in my great-grandfather’s balls makes me feel whole. Connected. As someone who tends toward loneliness, I need all the connection I can get.

…this might be a good time to mention that I’ve been featured in September 2014’s Vogoff! Vogoff is a zine compiled by the incomparable Mel of Bag and a Beret – a.k.a. the progenitrix of the Traveling Yellow Skirt Freak Show. It’s a balls-out celebration (my, I certainly have testicles on the brain today) of “people who give the biggest flying fecks of all”. Art, sex, poetry, and a big ol’ helping of not taking anyone’s shit. I’m by far the youngest woman to be included, and that thrills me. I like to think I’m getting a good start on becoming the garish harridan I was always meant to be.

Read Vogoff here!

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