hot topic is the way that we rhyme
Those are the astrological signs of our beloved Le Tigre: J.D. is a Leo, Johanna is a Taurus, and yes, Kathleen is a Scorpio (the same sign as Femme Feral).
We had so much fun last night. The sweetly Sad Billionaire held our bag while Rcokslinga and I busted a move on the dance floor. Or tried to, at least. I mostly just jumped up and down and clapped and hollered because my space was extremely limited. Emo's was packed. And in case you were wondering, there is no shortage of hipsters in Austin. As I'd hoped, the usually uber-male-testosterone vibe of Emo's was pretty much overwhelmed by the sistas, but even then I was still annoyed with just about every boy there (all except SB, of course).
Anyway, I love Kathleen. Her music has been really important to me. In my teen novel, there is a chapter called "Rebel Girl." In it the protagonist, Melody, buys her first Bikini Kill record (Pussy Whipped). Because she can't drive yet, she listens to it on her walkman as she rides her bike around the neighborhood. When I lamented to Rockslinga that I wished rock shows could sometimes be more like poetry readings, I didn't mean that I wanted to sit in reverent silence while somebody from the ivory tower of academia read their poetry in hushed, deliberate tones to an audience of smarmy intellectuals. What I meant is that I wanted to wait in line and have Kathleen sign my record the way I waited in line for Lucille Clifton to sign my book. And I wanted that so I could tell her how her music changed my life. Anyway, it was Rockslinga who reminded me that they way I could tell her was through my writing. So I really want to finish this book now, because there are lots of little thank yous to bands like Bikini Kill sprinkled throughout the story.
I know, I know. I am a dork.
And I want a dress that says "STOP BUSH."
We had so much fun last night. The sweetly Sad Billionaire held our bag while Rcokslinga and I busted a move on the dance floor. Or tried to, at least. I mostly just jumped up and down and clapped and hollered because my space was extremely limited. Emo's was packed. And in case you were wondering, there is no shortage of hipsters in Austin. As I'd hoped, the usually uber-male-testosterone vibe of Emo's was pretty much overwhelmed by the sistas, but even then I was still annoyed with just about every boy there (all except SB, of course).
Anyway, I love Kathleen. Her music has been really important to me. In my teen novel, there is a chapter called "Rebel Girl." In it the protagonist, Melody, buys her first Bikini Kill record (Pussy Whipped). Because she can't drive yet, she listens to it on her walkman as she rides her bike around the neighborhood. When I lamented to Rockslinga that I wished rock shows could sometimes be more like poetry readings, I didn't mean that I wanted to sit in reverent silence while somebody from the ivory tower of academia read their poetry in hushed, deliberate tones to an audience of smarmy intellectuals. What I meant is that I wanted to wait in line and have Kathleen sign my record the way I waited in line for Lucille Clifton to sign my book. And I wanted that so I could tell her how her music changed my life. Anyway, it was Rockslinga who reminded me that they way I could tell her was through my writing. So I really want to finish this book now, because there are lots of little thank yous to bands like Bikini Kill sprinkled throughout the story.
I know, I know. I am a dork.
And I want a dress that says "STOP BUSH."
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