clinic

I was in the kitchen when the angel came to me, holding my face in the vapours of the soup on the stove. It was raining and I was wearing very thick socks. The soup was too salty.

The angel was beautiful and terrible the way queens and widows and wounded soldiers are beautiful and terrible. She told me I was going to have a baby and then she said let me show you something. Let me show you everything.
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“I prefer women who don’t wear makeup”

So recently, sitting in the backseat of a black metal-blasting Ford of an old friend of my guy-friend, the muscle-shirted, profanity-laden driver was musing on the mysteries of love and courtship and the irreconcilable nature of the modern wacky free-thinking woman (AKA he was bitching about chicks okay) when he declared that he much preferred women who didn’t wear makeup over those who did. To wit: ‘I don’t understand why they wear that shit on their face anyway.’ (This $36 lipstick made by MAC — a top-name brand so renowned that it was referenced in TLC’s ‘Unpretty’ — is not shit, you dick.)

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