texts: Despite my love of weird metaphysics and my rejection of most Judao-Christian ethics, I am, within the framework of a baseball season, monogamous.
labels: Fact is you're afraid of meeting a guy like me 'cause It might be real so you sabotage it with some bullshit about commitment to a young boy you can boss around--  Great deal.  You get to write self- indulgent little poems all winter about how hard it is to find a man even though you just sent him packing-  So what do you really want?  You wanta be a tragic woman figure wallowing in the bullshit of magic?  Or do you want a guy?