Month: July 2016

Trump is a cunt

This morning I wrote ‘Trump is a cunt’ and it felt so good writing it. And then I said it out loud and it just rolled off my tongue, like it was the best thing to say, so smooth, so perfect, TRUMP IS A CUNT TRUMP IS A CUNT TRUMP IS A CUNT.

Then I got a bit tongue twisted and it became one of those word things like TRUMP IS A CUNT CUNT IS A TRUMP TRUMP IS A CUNT CUNT IS A TRUMP TRUMP IS A CUNT and now I just can’t get it out of my head and that’s my ear worm for the day and I’m kinda hoping it becomes yours too.

Try it.

It feels good.

… … … … … … … … …

Of course when I googled a pic I realised millions have come before me in thinking, writing and saying it.

But still.

Trump is such a cunt.

We all know it to be true.


7th Street, Melville

This afternoon I wandered through my hood, picked up an extra large coffee, said hi to the broom sellers, hung out in my favourite vintage store, checked out the tattoo parlour, dropped off my dry-cleaning, bought and ate a granny smith apple, gave money to the homeless man even though I wish he’d find another hood to be homeless in, sat in an outdoor cafe and wrote a birthday card for a friend, felt the warm winter sunshine on my cheeks, ate cake and bought two dresses by mistake.

On the way home I picked up sunflowers, met a dog called Daisy and flirted with some very sexy construction workers.

Now I’m going to find a spot for the brooms, hang up the dresses and put the flowers in my late Grandmother’s vase.

I’ve got David Bowie, my dogs, my book and a bottle of Pinot Noir and I feel so satisfied and smug, maybe next I’m gonna run for president.

Loving my neighborhood.

Loving Saturday.

Loving Melville.