A makeshift guide to recognizing poetry outside of paradise.
Monday, August 10, 2009
First wives of Fire Island
Apologies for my blogospheric absence this past weekend; I was on Fire Island with no computer access (sigh, how wonderful). Until I get my NY bearings back, who else remembers how great this scene was?
"Life's dirty. Life's unclean. It's birth, it's sex, it's the intestinal tract. One big squishy, unsanitary mess. It never gets any cleaner either. You know, dust to dust, worms crawl in, worms crawl out, right? Even though we know that, we still walk the walk, we still live the life. We're like a bunch of little kids. Little kids, you know, we jump in this big old pond of mud and we're slapping it all over our face, rubbing our hair all down our backs and we're making these glorious, gooey pies. That's us. We're fabulous."
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