One of Portland, Oregon’s greatest landmarks is Powell’s City of Books. Sadly, I can no longer go there.

It has nothing to do with Powell’s. In fact, me and Powell’s are pals, but I can’t stop myself from forming irrational crushes on anyone who reads books. And once I form an irrational crush, it’s really only a matter of time before I flirt with them in some incredibly awkward way that just leaves us both feeling uncomfortable and dissatisfied.

But that’s just how I flirt. I just encroach upon someone else’s otherwise pleasant day, shit all over it, go home, lock myself in my bedroom and cry, until I lose consciousness or my body simply runs out of tears. That’s why I drink so much liquor; it accelerates the drying out process.

What can I say? I’m a real people’s third gender. I am HOT!

(listen at


3 thoughts on “Me and Powell’s

  1. Hi there! I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed reading this blog post of yours! It was so amazing. I just checked out your blog because of this and I couldn’t help but press follow immediately because your blog is both amazing and beautiful! I am so happy I came across your blog. Can’t wait to read more from you, keep it up (:
    By the way this comment is with regards to all of your posts not just this one! I love them all (: !

    Liked by 1 person

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