Well it didn’t start out like that like basically nothing happened for the most of it. It was friendly. Yeah just like, dirty feet and apple juice and herbal tobacco and… I know, I’m not into it eith-. Yeah. No well we actually went out in search of them. Ex boyfriend had watched one of the gal’s lectures on- Yeaaaah,
Kathy Acker is one of the many things I’m supposed to like, along with American Horror Story and Tim Burton. But Kathy Acker is different, because Kathy Acker is flattering. Kathy Acker represents the American Dream. A sex worker who became a successful poet in front of the cinematic backdrop of seventies New York, gaining class and therefore maturity. Basically she gave the johns exactly what they wanted but by calling it poetry she reached readers who thought being a john was shameful.
They liked each other, called it chemistry, got in bed and stayed there. Soon they coupled, wanting only the other for intimate endeavors. He learned what she liked; she learned what he liked. The two would eventually overuse what they knew until those motions turned routine. For awhile they escalated the gestures of their congress, but pushing boundaries too went stale. Too much of a good thing turned anal banal,