I’m Anti’s ex-girlfriend. Not that one, but the one before that, the one who moved away and lives in Brooklyn now. He came and visited me in New York once and I acted like a total bitch went he wanted to look at all the graffiti, which seemed strange to me even then.
Anyhoo, he doesn’t even know that I’ve looked at his Blogspot. It’s not a big secret or anything that I’ve seen it, he would probably be happy to know that I’ve seen it, ‘rio76a3yh;t6yzvh e0o8r65q398. Blah di dar, a friend called me up and said “yeah, and there are these weird photos of some chick I’ve never seen before and she’s in her underwear and nothing else and it’s really weird.” So I immediately went to his Blogspot and clicked on the link that led to you and darling, you are divine.
It isn’t surprising that he says his friends “don’t get you,” and wonder why you are “so naked.” I’d bet a full set of Fiesta ware and the lint in my coat pocket that they haven’t read what you’ve written either. Not that your entries are based on explaining why you post the awesome fucking photos that you do, it’s just that frank, unapologetic femaleness, whatever the fuck that is, isn’t a hot commodity in that region.
Today was the first snow day, and everything in the city seemed muted and quiet and there was a bluegrass band playing in the Union Square station. I snuck the two-year-old I babysit for up onto the roof of his apartment building and we put pots and pans out to catch the snow. Later we had a snowball fight in his bathroom and threw them at the ceiling and the medicine-chest mirror and talked about how snow is white and made out of frozen water from clouds.
So, good job.