the black cat strikes gold

August 12, 2012

The Black Cat is almost dirty but she’s not dirty enough. I mean, she’s holding back but she’s loose. You know what I’m talkinn bout. Good girl gone bad. Maybe this is my thang. Kate, Rih, Black Cat, my dirty girl triumvirate.

And now, today, the Black Cat strikes gold. She got the Old Grey Lady drooling down her front and no one hands grandma a handkerchief, they just press her spittle into print. It’s awkward, more awkward than anything Issa Rae could ever dream cause them White Girl Problems are the perversion of privilege on a level that no one ever speaks. Cause you know, privilege ain’t trying to pull back the curtain for anyone to see.

Imagine someone self important saying they are jealous of you for self destructing in public, wishing that they were as self hating and knew how to profit off it. This ish makes my skin crawl like waterbugs on the carpet at night. Women make for the cruelest misogynists.

Makes me feel kinda tweaked, kinda queer, like I did too much blow and there’s no benzos, no weed. Nothinn. Just that heart beat that goes faster and faster until you start to think you should breathe slowly. Sip some air like it’s syrup and exhale gently. And that lasts like two three breaths then it’s, What tha fuck is happeninnn.

You can hear it. I can hear it too. Lines from Paris is Burning are being played over the speakers but there is no picture on the screen.

You know she brings it every ball.
Why you gagging tho?

And I feel for her cause it do feel cheap. Feel cheap to be sweated by people who are supposta be somebody but you done found out the scene. Smoke and mirrors shoved up somebody’s ass. Trust, I know some people think it’s about fame, and maybe for you it is.

But.

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