2007-10-11

Armpit Vagina

There's a saying in Gaelic: nothing gets into a closed fist. Meaning - keep an open heart, an open mind. Be receptive to whatever messages are handed to you, and be receptive to the messenger.

And I am. Or at least I TRY. But sometimes I'm handed a message that I just plain don't know what to do with:

Yes, this says: ARMPIT VAGINA. It was scrawled in chalk on a building not far from Green Street Station. I suspect one of them artist-types that congregate in the lofts on Brookside Avenue is responsible for this. One - because it was in chalk. Two - because it's profoundly fucked-up. No spraypaint-wielding miscreant would write such a thing.

Ordinarily I would register this, smirk, and go on my merry way. But the thing is, is that this whole armpit vagina thing has been following me around since August, when young Oscar Travis muttered some dark incantation about pits and vaginas. Then Lindhurst accused me of possessing such an orifice after I'd displayed photos of my Skylab tattoo. And now this. Don't these things happen in threes?

Maybe some things ought not be read into.

lisamcc at 7:32 a.m.

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