Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride
I follow Margaret Atwood on twitter because she interacts with really funny nature accounts (she’ll rt something like @DucksIncorporated or @Birdwatchersunited and the tweet will be like, “The beautiful spring feathers of the meadowlark.”) Anyway. It’s easy to forget that she’s also a very dank writer.
You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman.
This line, oof.
Been spending a lot of time lately trying to untangle how a lifetime of patriarchy has fucked up my own sexual agency. Nothing like getting derailed inside your own head by worries of how you look in the moment, whether you measure up to some external standard…
kids today google, not giggle. they play angry birds instead of getting angry AT birds. they all have an ipad but no iq. not even one. they playstation but they never play station. i.e. one pretending to be a train and the others pretending to be different trains or low paid maintenance workers. they’re obsessed with one direction, rather than enjoying all eight directions equally. facebook… but unable to face… a book. or a hoop with a stick. a lost generation. the tv show.