Burned Meat

I used to just “write” on my site. It’s funny to say that like it was something so wild and novel. Maybe it’s because I hail from the era of Tumblr and Myspace, but I feel just so horrifically vapid just writing feelings and thoughts now. Like, eww. Gross. Why would you want to read that? Maybe it’s because in the last 15 years of being online I have learned that writing your feelings is an excellent way of getting yourself in trouble. And when you have posted your thoughts and feelings on the internet for 15 years you have a lot that you can get in trouble for. And look, it’s not that I have said anything horrible. Quite the opposite. I am really proud of the girl that I was and the woman I am. Like wow, that little mouth girl who took no sh*t. And would write exactly how she felt with all the perfect punctuation of bell hooks. Pausing with purpose. A way to express myself that made you uncomfortable and my words and structure unforgettable. Structure. Building myself with every dash and dot.

And here I am. The world has turned. And left me here. Sorry. I had to. I mean, they are great lyrics and I did say I come from the MySpace era. There were just. So. Many. Lyrics.

But this piece is titled burned meat. And perhaps referencing the world turning is appropriate. Because I feel like meat on a spit. Bound. An apple in my mouth. Burned to a crisp. The apple is so poignant too. If you missed one of my many many deep dives I wrote a lengthy piece about women and the apple its def the kind of fruit that belongs in the mouth of a woman who knows too much.