Nothing major to report.
Fell in love on 70 percent of my bus rides this week.
Not a bad week at all.
Listened to Betty Davis every morning,
“They Say I’m Different”
The funky ex wife of Miles.
I listened to my other (equally)
crazy writer-friends mix.
It has some great shit.
Some new shit.
Some old shit.
The song from Ghost.
I can dig it all.
I stuck on this track Paper Planes.
It uses gunshots and
cash registers as instruments.
It’s so catchy. Almost
as real as Moby can make
The major love was on screen though,
She was in this crazy German-Turkish
film called Head-On!
She called on these three drunk men
that had cat called her in the narrow,
alley like streets of late night Istanbul.
It was her breaking point in the film.
“Go fuck yourselves.”
Then she charges as the one smoking Turk.
In his jumpsuit, he looks tough
And greasy at once, but
She head butts him quick
like a character in Street Fighter.
They rough her up a bit
and start to walk away.
She curses their mothers,
Which is enough to turn a friendly
Woman beating to a full on fuck you up fest,
They kick her hard.
Real old world beat down.
She still curses them a third time,
until they finally stabbed her.
And she Still doesn’t die.
Not the kind of girl you see fixing
her hair pretentiously in her
overly large cell phone screen
This was my kind of hero.
Hard like Betty Davis.
Bleeding with history the same way.
Just given back the right to speak,
and singing indecently well, already.
Nothing much more to report, really.
Might have dreamt of Robin
Hooding the Oscars.
Like in the Disney cartoon
movie, with the arrow
used as a crude clothes line for orphan
fox booties filled with
I had a huge child crush
on the maid Marion fox.
Not the kind you meet on the bus, either.