The Archives are written after the dust has settled.
The Margins are written while it is still in the air.
These are not daily entries. I have neither the discipline nor the interest.
They appear when something happens that is simply too scandalous, strange, delicious, or revealing to wait until it becomes history.
Written the morning after. Weekdays only.
If there is nothing here for a while, assume I am behaving.
Or don’t.
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Ravenous
The burger place never happened. By the time I left the salon, my nails were fresh and my toes were perfect. His favorite color. Of course. Wounded Boy has always had a particular weakness for my feet, and I knew exactly where his mind would go when he saw them. I didn’t need to tell…
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The Morning I Stopped Asking Questions
The morning I stopped asking questions, the Wounded Boy started answering ones I hadn’t asked. This was particularly funny because the day before, he’d apparently fed some of my text messages into ChatGPT for analysis. The machine diagnosed me as fearful avoidant and highly sexual. I shrugged. Maybe. I don’t talk to virtually anyone in…
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The Breakup That Wasn’t
Monday morning, at 6:05, my lover broke up with me. By Tuesday evening he was standing at my door with flowers. So that went well. In fairness, it was a very mature breakup. Thoughtful. Self aware. He had decided that he caused me stress. That he’d affected my family. That things had been said that…
Violeta Noir 