fromthemouthofmoi

First you have to jump in the family car about ten minutes behind schedule, race down River Side Drive so anxious you believe you might throw up. Then you double check everything making sure everything is there: money, glasses and birth certificate, (the last item comes later).. You pull off The Drive at the appropriate exit only to start in on St. Anthony, promising him anything in exchange for one measly parking space within four and a half blocks of the theatre (picky Catholics?) You find one, thank old St. Anthony and you lock up the VW bus. You walk half a block and I scream: We forgot your glasses! At this moment, if you are older than eighteen you mentally say: Oh Shit! (Remember time is running out and you haven't hit the bodega for goodies yet). If you are under eighteen, me, you pray the movie hasn't started yet and that you'll have time to get goodies and that you'll make it to the bathroom real soon. You retrieve the glasses, re-lock the door and run to th...

That bully, that foul language spewing misogynist. That person can be a woman. A woman with such a powerful hurt and hate that she lashes out at the very thing that she can not be. She is a child. A child desecrated before Moira was born. That woman seems to be out of control. She is filled with rage so big and consuming that everything she touches gets a lashing. From the inanimate to the breathing. She would never see it this way but sometimes she is a racist. Racism is not always directed at the person claiming racism. That woman prefers the small, and the voiceless; the lame and the lost. How else does one feed a dragon? Surely not with those capable of flight. That woman has a hurt so deep that there is not enough life left in her to figure out the source of her  fire breath. That woman is to be pitied. That woman, if she is lucky will one day be utterly alone, left with nothing but herself. With nothing but the dead silence that can never be heard when you're yelling. T...