bbq sause

What if I wore my dress AND my corset backwards?

Our Japanese chef would open the Italian panetteria every day with a Shinto ritual, filling freshwater into a small bowl and placing, with a private bow, under a secret banner sequestered among the bowls atop a deli fridge, quietly praying for fortune that forever eluded, under porcelain chandeliers and black and white tiles made in Napoli, Italy. His marriage was failing, and still he bowed. His ancestral village was evacuated from radiation fallout, and still he bowed. Six months later, water from Sandy would drown his business. When he told me the news that the doors would stay shuttered, he bowed. His dignity will forever remain in my mind.

I’m super fragile but not like a flower more like a bomb

She does this often. Whenever I show up at the station just before midnight, she stands by the yellow line, and never gets on any train. I’ve seen her enough times to notice the patterns same gray coat, same way she looks down the tunnel like she’s waiting for someone who’s never showing up. The janitor nods to her sometimes, like they share a secret. People avoid standing too close. Once, I heard her whisper something right before a train passed, but the sound swallowed the words whole. Every time the wind from the tunnel hits, she closes her eyes like it’s familiar, like she’s expecting a voice in it. I don’t think she’s waiting for a train anymore. I think the trains are waiting for her.

ohmygod it’s raining

Good hair day for the pubes