reciting piss factory in my head

i'm in a piss factory inspecting pipe, hot in here, hot
like sahara, if i could, i would will a radio here, james 
brown singing i lost someone

in my lecture right now, listening to howl by allan ginsberg. i have to say 'cock and endless balls' was my favourite line. we didn't listen to the whole 26 minutes thank god. what do men really have to say in poetry? what must they sugar coat? if it's not sweet don't do it. in my nose the taste of sugar is coming up in my head. GOD HOW I LOVE PISS FACTORY!!! again i fear this may be another blog without an agenda. i wish to speak on the topic of gossip in this moment. small tangent, but i got myself a polish magnesium drink and a recreational throat lozenge given by a friend and i am about to be zazzed. last time i got this drink i almost passed out in a lecture in december. unlike other vitamin waters, it's not gritty so it goes down SMOOTH and that's the problem. i chug it. i do love the dr witt magnesium pinapple fizzy drinks too but they fuck me up even more. i feel like a weird victorian british man in an opium den when i have one. we are talking about paratext now in class... right, GOSSIP!!! one thing i resent is my inclination to consider the thoughts and lives of men as a curiosity to unpick. i wish to decenter men completely (see that's the magnesium kicking in with all that fancy language) because they don't even wish to unpick eachother, let alone themselves. god we are talking about lolita's first chapter... what if i kill myself?

don't reallllly fancy trying to have empathy for a nonce at 10:30am but alas. see, this is it- i hate being in the minds of men; the idolised idea, the spectator, none of it. i do not wish to do the work- the emotional labour- that they shy from. i am seeing on a whiteboard two parrellel and vertical opposing arrows with the captions 'completeness trace' and 'existance vouch' tagged alongside. while trace goes up, vouch goes down... distracted by thoughts of lotte lenya. oh moon of alabama :(... sorry distracted again. i'm using my old college account to make this website and i'm using it's youtube and my god is it a relic. i used to listen to into the light alot. just took a drink and it felt like i was inhaling light. men don't like gossip like we do, they don't get it. they can't conceptialise that they could use it to be safe. it's too close to talking about feelings. it's too close to getting honest, being authentic. they don't need safety, they need to hide their ill's from eachother- women need to hide themselves from the ill's of men. i also hate the term chatting shit. i do not chat shit often. chatting shit is needlessly malicious. i am intentional. gossip describe's what you did objectively then i supply my opinion and if i think you were a twat about it all... then i don't know what to tell you. a fear of gossip is a fear of the self reflected back, that's why i tell all my own business. i am not afraid of what others say (often, i am human i do slip up) because there is always an equal and opposite action and intention. by this i mean, you have probably done similar too and you intend to avoid your own inner turmoil about it so its all water off a ducks back, plus you have your reasons as much as i have mine. i love gossip. i brings me closer to other women.

moon of alabama, we now must say goodbye :( , india xox