You're In A Lesbian Pulp Novel From 1958! What's Distracting You From Work And Causing Your Heterosexual Coworker Nora To Glance Curiously Over At Your Desk?
You're In A Lesbian Pulp Novel From 1958! What's Distracting You From Work And Causing Your Heterosexual Coworker Nora To Glance Curiously Over At Your Desk?
(Yes, I’ve been reading Beebo Brinker again.) That bar we went to last night, the one Bill just seemed to know about as if by intuition — that bar didn’t have any windows in it… The innately feminine curves of your roommate’s hairbrush Subway full of people on it — the deadening press of bodies — the insolent yet knowing stares of strange men — the queer feeling of being buried alive and yet somehow still in a hurry to get somewhere —
"the wildly destabilizing conclusion that most of the people you know are joking most of the time" is my default state. WHY DON'T I GET THE JOKES UGH
I had a cat that I named after Beebo Brinker. 1998-2013 RIP Beebo
I assume that only a soothing hot drink can truly settle one's nerves after witnessing a primal scene.