it’s not soccer.  it’s football.

it’s not a game.  it’s a match.

they aren’t cleats.  they’re boots.

they aren’t uniforms.  they’re kits.

it’s not a field.  it’s a pitch.

it’s not a schedule.  it’s a fixture.

your shutout wasn’t three-zip.  it was three-nil

he’s not a goalie.  he’s a keeper.

it’s not a game.  it’s a religion.

and kickoff is in three and a half hours.  go to fucking bed.


i am

i am.

i am an unholy mess of a girl.

i am left handed.

i am stubborn.

i am made of stardust.

i am unshakably prejudiced in favor of Georgia peaches.

i am addicted to rock and roll of every variety.

i am a feminist who prefers the company of men.

i am beautiful.

i am just not capable of resisting the Beatles.

i am an atheist who wants to believe in something more, but doesn’t need to.

i am awake now.

i am amazed by the world around me.

i am against the designated hitter rule.

i am seeing things through new eyes.

i am not the girl your mother warned you about.

i am not alone.

i am never  going  to give up.

i am coming out of exile soon.

i am Susannah.

i am going to bed now.