I wish for deborah that the B52s would get any older. They deserve to be inducted. She loves them. I want this for her. I will write them. I begged them to put Linda Rondstadt in—-
“Strobe Light”
Where’s my telephone?
Is that you baby? Yeah!
Got something to tell ya. Oh, what?
I wanna see ya tonight.
I want you to walk in the door.
I want you to lay on the floor.
Cause tonight’s the night.
We make love under a strobe light.
Underneath the strobe light.
Wanna make love to you under the strobe light.
Wanna make love to you under the strobe light.
Strobe light, wooooooah, strobe light, wooooooah, yeah!
Pulsin’ light goes to my head!
Everything I see is red!
Baby, when I kiss your hair,
I feel electricity in the air.
I’m gonna kiss your eyes. (gasp)
Then I’m gonna kiss your neck. (groan)
Then I’m gonna kiss your tummy. (oooh!)
Then I’m gonna kiss your PINEAPPLE! (shriek!)
Tonight’s the night for love under the light.
Strobe light, strobe light.
Underneath the strobe light.
Wanna make love to you under the strobe light.
Wanna make love to you under the strobe light.
Strobe light, wooooooah, strobe light, wooooooah, yeah!
I just wanna make love to you.
I just wanna make love to you.
Underneath the strobe light.
Strobe light! Strobe light! Strobe light!
Strobe light! Strobe light!
Strobe strobe strobe strobe strobe light.
“the real originality of an author is revealed only once we position ourselves within the point of view she herself she invented and from which the work becomes easy to read. Leading the reader by the hand. This is the mystery. Every new true work is truthful, easy and joyful.” Deleuze from Writing in Strobe.
Opening poem
Hurricanes floods earthquakes &blackouts
Natural disasters make us stay by someone
Stay by someone
Festive occasions
Stay here
By Ntozake Shange
Edge of a Clamshell
May4th: Word of the day is Clamshell; it takes a longtime to make a pearl.
But I did my core exercises without the sea or ocean. I can’t wait to see the ocean again. I should be making dinner. ? Deborah and I are perched at the edge of death each day. Yesterday ay Physical therapy, I had to do clamshell exercises—I told the guy, it would take a longtime to make a pearl. The edge of the abyss and void. I don’t want to be a veggie. No Teri Shiva. Deborah and I loved doing home improvements together. I need to paint all the interior doors, bathroom cupboards, and finish putting the Christmas’ decorations down. So, we face death. I must die; it will be a painful horrible death—burgers, fries, hotdogs and salads? I am watching a lot of MOTU. I just took a shower. It was exhausting. We have been together almost 24 years.
RIGHT NOW, I CAN’T TELL WHAT TI ME IT IS. THERAPY? I HAVE AN on-line shopping addiction. I have broken us. I need help.
Breathing Fire
My friend, writer, Vanessa Place, who wrote episodes of Xenia Warrior Princess said Lucy Lawless would spit lighter fluid on fire, in her own dining room. Its boing to be a hot summer.
When
I was working at the antique mall, Catherine Deneuve compared me to Bluebeard because I had all of these keys. It was funny. She had just lost the best actress Oscar the day before. She loved my mom’s Victorian garnet jewelry. I grew up reading Deneuve magazine until she sued them to change the name as not to be associated with lesbians. It was changed to Curve.
Deborah will always be the best mom I will ever know. This mothers’ Day, I am. Grateful for her. What should I make for dinner? I need to make better dinners. I sucked today.
End poem
My dreams run to meet Aunt Marie
My dreams run to meet ole sores
These stains and scars are mine
This is my space
I’m not movin
By Ntozake Shange
Deleuze is my boyfriend 