My first boyfriend and I talked about our favorite porn actresses, and we loved to do so. He was a freshman at Howard and I was a senior in high school, I met him through a girl I knew who was studying there. I remember talking about Dani Daniels with him. We both liked that she seemed like the kind of girl we both knew. Porn is always about a wish; a drawing near to the resemblance of and the hope that this coincidence can elide through an orgasm. It’s pitiful how we collectively misunderstand why people are jerking off, or are confused by why people use stupid words with each other or are misintentioned in their actions. People hate me because I refuse to hate other people. People love me because there are a few people I hate. I don’t think the way I dislike other people is delicate, and sometimes it embarasses me because I can be mean in a way that other people like. I hate when I write about television the same way I write about literature, when I reference Sex and the City the same way I reference Boarder Giles, it’s cheap, my theoretic commodities — these girls are not in the field, by the way. They’re remote. They exchange time in the virtual for circumstantial lives. Their bodies and minds are remote and limited, their scenic scopes are fragmented and scattered, they read those books in corporate bookstores that use AI colors and girl fonts to sell their own miniaturized lives back to them. I can say this and still be some kind of quarrelsome feminist for the way women love me all the same. Yet, all books smell the same. See what I’m acknowledging? Delirious. I roll my knees and my eyes like the great elephant Ganesha when I smell the inside of her pages. Anyway, you promised me to not be the kind of person who inhabits the technology, or lets the technology inhabit them, or wastes words but is tight with money. When I’m peopled nowdays I’m tremendously focused on being concise with language. Do you know how many words we have left over between each other? The pauses, our eyes touching, I get nervous, of course, because you’re beautiful. Can you be intentional in the words you choose with me? People hate me because I demand something back from the world and refuse to be dominated. People love me because I demand reverence, know some part of what I am for true and acknowledge the sanctity of the feminine.