Mrs. Dalloway's Coffee Break

  1. I dreamed of a huge dragonfly it was enormous, as large as the palm of my hand black and gold But I killed it it was an accident its body was curled in the crystal fruit bowl   I picked it up “Made in China.” Lies lies lies!   Was my desire also a lie? Was it interference? Was it so that I would stop obsessing? My friends did not know. And that was fine.   The fieldfares are copulating in the branches It is Beltane morning, the morning of this immense desire and –   Is it not feathered and impetuous and in a state of intense rushing and dying, like the birds?   Clyde has a hard time getting why. Véronique gets why. Willow remains a mystery.   Mrs. Dalloway regains consciousness and steps lively into lace and yet pj’s, because that is how she operates, in unexpected avenues.     2. The fieldfares’ nest is now abandoned: apparently, someone interfered with their mating and...

Stop it Stop it! Stop chasing guys it’s disgusting!   when I was seeking attention when I was needing approval   like, how was it so disgusting I was eighteen and talking about guys one would have thought was the supreme way to bond talking about beautiful guys like “Yes, I’m a huge fan of the guys” not sisterly disdain   so distasteful cunt fucking jesus what is the matter with you that’s disturbed behavior you have a sickness and I did   all of us sickos   like when I was hanging with Clyde and she was needing attention and I would put on my steamiest guy shades and give it   like when I was listening to darling Véronique succumb under sadness I shed my skin became a manwoman to tell her how gorgeous she and how one of a kind and yes, it would hurt but hurt was a limited edition like coke with lime instead of vanilla or cherry, their staples   like when I was pretending things ...

  The week has moved on its course with the world holding its breath waiting for news on the Christa Pike execution.   Trump’s bagboy Kavanaugh that insufferable bitch overruled the lower court’s ruling to hold off with the killing, and the number of   screw-ups   regarding it have been nothing short of spectacular.   Should Ms. Pike awake ever again is her time not done now in full?   How much more can the nation want? A once pedestal nation now run by a band of rapists and homicidal maniacs carrying out personal vendettas and creating more misery and sorrow and Pike’s victim’s mother’s 31-year hatred, needing to see the wrath of god in motion how sick how vengeful and godless in and of itself  is that?   A sick country of old men producing hatred and war and destroying the globe while at it a disgusting group of self-serving lynchmen and bigots and murderous, blood...