red red whine

whatever has become of me? far worse than realizing the way my hangovers seem to lurk in my veins far longer than they ever have, i begin to fear that i no longer am able to stay in my own head when i'm in my cups, as it were.

perhaps i should just stick to pharmaceuticals.

but the 'my so called drinking game' was an absolute panic. worth the moment of deep despair that came at 6:30 this morning when i understood completely what i had done. i may have od'd on nostalgia a little, but i think by dinnertime i'll remember what decade it is and everything will go back to normal.

thank you 1995 for giving the world angst and desperation and boys with emotions underneath their disdain.

beau monde-haut monde, bebe.

when you're a freak like me, you get a lot of stares. it's jealousy. i know it. everyone wants in on the secrets of my style.

just how do i maintain my elegant blend of 'dressed in the dark' and 'homeless chic'? i've held out as long as i can, but i fear the time is come for me to reveal my sources.

there is only one place on earth to acquire the sort of accoutrements that allow one to attain the dizzying vertexes of dernier cri that i brave on a daily basis. and that place is here-



oh, heavenly ether, receive my darkest divulgence and grant me grace in the face of adversity.

amen.

womanthrope.

i learned a new word, or rather remembered an old one, the other day. gynophobia. it means 'the fear of women'. i always assumed that it had something to do with obgyn's, but i stand corrected. i don't know that i necessarily am afraid of women, but i suppose that up til recently i've held on to a certain nervousness (like when a non-parent holds an infant) around members of the double x variety.

while most girls were in junior high and learning to break eachother down, i was being home schooled and reading classic literature. which was all fine and well until high school, when my parents decided that i would be socially incapable of relating to other people if i didn't do some down and dirty developing with youngsters my own age right away. not cool, but all parents just do what they think is best.

needless to say that the years i spent in my own company did not prepare me for the cluster fuck of highschool drama. this oddity hindered me a great deal in finding friends of any gender, but most especially my own. and i'm not so sure that i'm any more capable of deciphering the private language of women than i was back then.

but last night while drinking an entire bottle of rum, steeping in 2 a.m. dew-air outside in the street, marble-mouthed gabbing with some really cool ladies... the thought occurred to me that maybe my experiences are catching me up, maybe i'm close to making up that gap between me and every other girl i've ever known, maybe i'm close to finding the rosetta stone, so to speak. it's nice to think about not worrying that somehow my fellow ovariennes can smell it on me, my inexperience and discomfort.

so, here's to celebrating the divine feminine and trying not to run away from being one.