Sweet Mother of Boba Fett #StarWars
My friend just had a baby. His girlfriend had a mix up with some pills and 9 months later a small midget with a soft head is using her vagina as a slip and slide. What a powerful thing that pill is, imagine if you didn`t take your vitamin C and your asshole fell out of your pant leg at…
A Letter
Do not only take photographs of beautiful people. This is your impulse, the eyes naturally gravitate to the sweet milk skins, the awkward and elegant curve of bone. Take photographs of everything, you are not an artist but a historian: remember this, the way the hair emerges from a leg, infinitesimal, the way flesh accumulates against your hands. Study delicate black pores, gasping and gentle, dark windows into the body’s mechanisms. The mouth flushed and curving, teeth sturdy like a horse’s, something to love. This is important, the diet, the habits, the peculiar dialects invented or assumed. At what frequency was language spoken, sung, whispered. What was worshiped, what gods were prayed to, what rituals. What dreams. Take photographs. The way the bleary eye is asleep still, the sunlight across the bed, the weird, warped flesh. Round hands, smooth jugular. In action: making breakfast, converted to still life. The myths, the history, each delicate and convoluted story with meaning or no meaning. Write everything down, each colloquial phrase, document the coughs and hiccups, messy excretions, blood, tears. This is after all a science. Primary sources: x-rays, so intimate, bones sloping gently inward, the heart palpitating slightly too fast. The colorful brain is alight, is ablaze, unable to save itself from itself. Diagrams of anatomy, numbers, facts. I admit you are a specialist, devoted but nearly irrelevant: this is important, the way we held hands by the reservoir, when I am gone there will have to be someone to tell everyone exactly how I was, someone to remember beyond remembering.
