it’s a strange feeling to look through huge photo albums of birds and realize that whenever a hand is holding a bird, it’s a white one. we are the only people on earth who care about birds and so many other animals. there is a connection between us that no other group feels.
growing up, i loathed the title of “horse girl” and went out of my way to make it known that i was nothing of the sort. it always seemed to me that a horse girl was a freak, an autist reckoning with the fact that she’d not been born a horse herself. terror. outsiderhood.
the idea of fawning over a long-dead “prime gio scotti” when you could just date a 16 year old from your own town is bewildering to me. if not you, who?