The best blogging I've read recently has been my sister's, and I say that with all critical faculties turned on. She's really come into her own with a style that is hers, that sounds like hers, that's serious and funny and creative.
And like a kid who tries avacado once a year, I find I still don't like deeply disturbing [movies].
And I stopped, to define my meaning of bitch, and used it more than I have in the entirety of my life. About her, about me.
There was a circle of one 16th of an inch around his box, empty except for blood. They couldn't stop drawing boxes to find out why he didn't like them. He kept stamping toes. He liked the color of red. And his pencil was black. They never stopped drawing boxes. They thought that the next box they drew would explain what was wrong with his four lines that he called a box.
Check it out.