William Walsh is brilliant. Here, let me show you:
Girls like you aren’t born until highschool. Born at« post structuralism killed the “great artists”
sixteen years old. You give birth to yourself, you
glamorous creature, you beautiful girl. But you’re
so young. Baby woman. You just started
menstruating. You like it. You like menstruating—
you are that young. Last week your pee-pee had
been an inert slit. Now it’s an open mouth, a gaping
open wound, dripping. A weeping eyesocket with no
eyeball. And hairy. Always wet. Slick. Touch it.
–from Boothgirl, an excerpt from Without WaxOn Wednesday, that is June 2nd, he is doing a reading at Ada Books, 7pm, which is right down the street from me. We can go together, but only if you promise not to talk too much, or make any stupid requests, like that he sign your copy or braid your hair. I will be warm on boxed wine.
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