close to the knives readalong// well it's helped knead an absurd longterm feeling alive in me from vague brain substrate into english (not much better). this has nothing and everything to do with the text: like all good books, its bones and blood found their way inside
timestamp. 3:00am on a sunday morning:
I'm scared to go to the dentist because it has to be a stranger—our family practitioner, nice old Vietnamese lady, retired—a stranger who, yes, sees hundreds and thousands of mouths, and mine I know is unremarkable among them, but I'd be a stranger to them as well and I'd be laid on that chair opening my mouth within the first few minutes of meeting and something about that is so incredibly slutty. Not promiscuous-slutty, spiritually; see I've been flying solo for two or three years now and this faceless professional would be the only one seeing any opening of mine in so long. Yes, there are lines, let's draw them: Stranger to stranger. Healthcare provider to patient. Services rendered and received. Giver, taker, the dumb sunglasses the assistant hands you, the impassive gazes. Still, on both sides, a wet mouth.
—so, i can't bring myself to schedule an appointment to this day.
.. would not have been able to crystallise any of that prior to reading close to the knives! also i'm feeling kinship with the anon who shared a dream of eating their minified sibling (?) after reading your hudcon fic...
i cruelly and selfishly waited to answer this because i realized with great cherishment u are ahead of me and i thought okay i'll catch up. then i went on a week long trip, brought david as my only book, and didn't even put a palm on him. but this is beautiful and deserves to be shared.
still! on both sides! a wet mouth