The Raven by Tavo Montañez
(Source: looktotheproles, via repetition-is-holy)
So there’s this frog. And he has the best damn day of his life (mostly because he licked the other frogs’ backs at school, but whatever). He’s about to graduate from college, he’s got no debt, he’s gonna get certified to teach froggie yoga and he’s about to move to a city full of other back-licking froggies like him. He’s got it together, he’s falling into his froggie bones.
He feels so good he that he sends an email to a most admirably slimy frog he met last week saying, “Hey I like you. Wanna go out for a drink sometime?” And the reply: “Sorry I can’t. But thanks for the offer!”
It was the exclamation point that killed him.
He pondered how it was that he could be so lucky in life and so high at that moment and so suddenly feel like such crap. He didn’t know. So he found cupcakes and watched High Fidelity with John Cusack.
(via art-or-porn)
I pierced my nipples this week. You know, for something to do. And part of the care-taking regimen is soaking my nipples in salt water twice a day.
I inquired about how to accomplish this, and my piercing specialist gave me a neat little demo with a dixie cup. So twice a day, I press two dixie cups of home-made salt water to my nipples and watch 10 minutes of West Wing.
Me and my nipples have never hung out this much. We’re getting to know and honor one another. I cultivate an awareness for door frames and cool breezes and they in turn don’t hurt at all. It is a good thing, this nipple piercing. It’s bringing me and my body together.
Photo taken in Wauwatosa, WI 2007
I am friends with some powerful women. We never considered questioning that the world would be changed by us, we just know it will be. One of us got a full ride to a top 5 law school, is starting a political blog, and plans to work at the white house. One of us is taking an accounting job in prestigious Chicago firm to pay off student loans before she goes to grad school for economics. And one of us is a fucking Rhodes scholar. Me? I’m a jack-off yoga teacher, but that’s beside the point. I’m friends with some powerful women. And each of us is breaking.
I’ve been sitting next to these women at the same 5 coffee shops for years now, and we’ve never been this kind of scared. The quiet, haunting scared that digs under our skin and seethes.
My one friend? She was supposed to be a school teacher. The other one was supposed to stay in her small town and work at the gas station. The next one everyone was sure would never make it to college. And before I was supposed to find a nice husband and a nice job and live fifteen minutes from my parents, I was supposed to be a Catholic priest.
We somehow managed to cut free of that, and now we’re hopping out of college with the navigational equivalent of a bent compass and a can of coke; you could say it’s getting to us.
I’m hoping our heroines felt this way. I’m hoping that when Joan of Arc, Gloria Steinem, Hillary Clinton and Annie Dillard were asked what their plans after graduation were, they laughed like maniacs.
Changing the world usually doesn’t come with a road map. We work with what we have. So…deep skin-digging fear, bent compass, can of coke. We’ll be fine.
Photo taken in Wauwatosa, WI 2007.
(Source: munchieshoneypot, via lo-giene)
