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2017

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treat yourself

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my favourite sauce

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Jamie McCartney

The Great Wall Of Vagina

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The Virgin Suicides (1999)

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it’s britney, bitch

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DON’T DIE JUST DISAPPEAR FOR A WHILE

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As I go to the escalator

A young fellow and a lovely young girl Are ahead of me. Her pants, her blouse are skin-tight. As we ascend, she rests one foot On the step above and her behind Assumes a fascinating shape. The young man looks all around he appears worried, He looks at me. I look away. No, young man, I am not looking, I am not looking at your girl's behind. Don’t worry, I respect her and I respect you. In fact, I respect everything; the flowers that grow, young women, Children, all the animals, our precious complicated universe, everyone and everything. I sense that the young man now feels better and I am glad for him. I know his problem: the girl has a mother, a father, maybe a sister or a brother, And undoubtedly a bunch of unfriendly relatives And she likes to dance and flirt and she like to go to the movies and sometimes She talks and chews at the same time and She enjoys really dumb TV shows and she thinks she's a budding actress and she Doesn’t always look so good and has a Terrible temper and sometimes she almost goes crazy And she can talk for hours on the telephone and she wants to go to Europe some summer soon And she wants you to buy her a near-new Mercedes and she's in love with Mel Gibson and her mother is a Drunk and her father is a racist And sometimes when she drinks too much she Snores and she's often cold in bed and She has a guru, a guy who met Christ In the desert in 1978, and she wants to be a dancer and she's unemployed and she Gets migraine headaches every time she Eats sugar or cheese. I watch him take her up The escalator, his arm Protectively about her waist, thinking he's Lucky, Thinking he's a real special guy, Thinking that nobody in the world has What he has. And he's right, terribly Terribly right, his arm around That warm bucket of Intestine, Bladder, Kidneys, Lungs, Salt, Sulphur, Carbon dioxide And Phlegm. Lotsa Luck

- Charles Bukowski - Girl on the escalator

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Word on the Street

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WHEN SEAGULLS FOLLOW THE TRAWLER,

IT’S BECAUSE THEY THINK SARDINES WILL BE THROWN INTO THE SEA

- Erci Cantona

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© The Pink Diary

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Wasted Rita

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Either I’m funny or the world’s funny, I don’t know which. The bottle and the lid don’t fit. It could be the bottle’s fault or the lid’s fault. In either case, there’s no denying that the fit is bad.

- Haruki Murakami, 1Q84