trans*it/messy

“Toffee, these are my friends.”
That perm was a candle, an electrical abortion-- at once unfolding like the nerves of a rose and forming the epicenter of a Szechuan garden. We eyed it, the color of overlapping colors, as it went utterly
Delphic.
We all know:
we are telling you that we do not like your inverted pyramid.
We know this all

from footage foraged.

Rhythm

I forgot about practice.

I forgot to practice what I want to be good at.

What do I want to be good at?

good at

figures 1 & 2

JJ

Fit, hairy chunk of trade, related to strains of masculinity I knew directly when a teen— a degree of poverty, swaggering in cowboy boots to a truck of giant proportions, emptiness filled in with some scent (the brand of cigarettes, or gum, or cologne, or some powdery product). In his early videos, while being serviced, he puts his wrist to his temple, with hand extended forward at a 45 degree angle to his arm (maybe a 90 degree angle, but it feels like 45 when I practice on myself). A gesture of the heroine overcome by emotion or lack or some such. Was it affectation? Genuine physical response? Looking at him, his mind/body folding in on itself, I am moved and aroused in equal proportions. A loss of control, a being over come. I remember, less clearly, one other instance of some thing akin—a lanky, cocky British bloke with a thick masculinity and a radiant delight in men’s desire for men where he’s involved. Again, a gesture of hand to head. Maybe palm front, on one temple, rotating wrist upward? (It’s painful when I try, as if something delicate’s getting wrenched.) How does that which typically defines staginess become, at the least, ambivalent if not full blown truth?

He puts his wrist to his temple, with hand extended forward at a 45 degree angle to his arm, his eyes sinking.

Someone must have given him a note because at some point he stops. Acting takes over. Such a shame.

What's happening in your book now?From Bradford