We Lost

from Mic

“This week has felt like a war on women. And we lost.”

I read something like that on a playwriting thread about turning the Ford hearing into a play, with people [men] complaining it would be too one-sided, not give the one side enough layers, not give a voice to those whose voices are already overwhelmingly heard. Discussing it more along the lines of some abstract problem that doesn’t touch their lives at all, ever.

That farce yesterday. Ford v. Kavanaugh.

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from the Cut

Where it went exactly as people feared it would– into he said/she said land. A female prosecutor, a female assistant, as she was referred to, got brought in last minute to ‘balance’ the all-male panel facing Ford. No other witnesses were allowed to ‘testify’.

It was her word against his. Where she got grilled by an actual prosecutor from Arizona…[yet, it’s not a trial?] Rachel Mitchell, by the way, worked for Maricopa County. Joe Arapeio. Go look all that up. Fun stuff. 

Kavanaugh got to rage, growl, sob and whine, and have the male senators throw out that same female prosecutor they’d flown in especially to deal with the troublesome Dr. Ford. As this female hussy suddenly started asking Kavanaugh some questions that he had trouble answering! HUSSY! HOW DARE SHE!!! Remove her! Which they did, after the GOP senators all said they would give all their time to Mitchell to question Kavanaugh! That’s on record. That’s on record, oh my. 

from Elle. Brett Kavanaugh
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from NY Mag. Lindsey Graham

So!! The male senators. They turned into defenders of one of their own. They let out growls of rage. They threw hissy fits about what a ‘fine’ man Kavanaugh was and how this was JUST SO UNFAIR GOL DARN IT.

Of course he was innocent!

It’s all a plot by Hillary! Ford was confused! She was raped by members of the Black Panthers, probably led by Obama’s friends, paid for by Soros! There’s two rando guys here saying they did it, so let’s believe these rando guys! She’s just some crazy, mixed up nice lady who can’t remember squat!

There has never been a more horrible awful thing to happen in politics ever than this– see Lindsey Graham for how to be a real drama queen.

Anita Hill got tossed into all this.

What happened to her. How Clarence Thomas even now sits on the Supreme Court. How it was the GOP back then who allowed him on the bench and now it’s a pack of truly hideous Grand Old Perverts more than likely gonna let ole Kavagrope on the bench, as well. Even though there are calls for an FBI investigation, for delays to get other witnesses to testify, for a more thorough looking into all this.

For something other than THAT BITCH IS PAID BY THE CLINTONS.


Yes, Kavanaugh actually shouted out that he was the victim of Democrats trying to get back at the GOP for Trump ‘winning’ the election.

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from the Federalist Papers
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also from the Federalist Papers

Okay, if I rehash all that yesterday, I’m not going to be able to function.

Not that I am doing that well right now.

Women lost yesterday. They lost. They got told they don’t matter. What happens to them doesn’t matter. Their voices, their traumas, their lives. They do not matter.

We’re opportunists. We make up stories of rape and assault just to get back at men in power. We lie. We’re confused. We’re vengeful harpies who just want to see men dead or broken. We’re every last fucking stereotype about women you can imagine. Or have heard. Or snicker about.

I’m angry.

A deep churning angry. I’ve been anxious for over a week now. I’ve been resorting to an old behavior of mine. I had a sleepless night. Yeah, stuff happened to me, too. And it was confusing, awful, confusing, confusing. I didn’t tell. I thought I’d get in trouble. I didn’t want to cause trouble. I thought it was no big deal– later on, when I heard what others had gone through. They had it so much worse. How could what happened to me be anything much at all?

I was just a drama queen wanting attention. I was just exaggerating and being all needy.


Rage. I am never not angry. Never. It never dies down. It never goes away.

I don’t like being around crowds of people, I don’t like people too close to me. Even people I know. Even people I love. I can barely hug people. I flinch if people touch me– a casual touch on the shoulder, I go stiff, I hold my breath. Someone hovering too close to me brings me into near panic and freak out mode at times.

I have nightmares. I mean the kind where you wake up screaming thinking someone is in the room with you. Usually a monster of some kind. A menacing male figure bent on harm. I remember screaming and screaming, trying to fight off some ghost-vampire thing darting across my bedroom. My mother said I screamed for a long time. I was in my teens.

There’s a list here.

Sure, I talked to a therapist about it. When I had the means. I talked about making myself throw up. I talked about my bouts of depression. I didn’t feel like I could fully trust the woman rolling her eyes and trying to listen to yet another garden variety woman with such silly problems. I’ve never had a therapist like the ones on television or movies. You know, the ones that seem to give a real shit.

Oh yeah, trust. I don’t trust anyone. I learned not to. A long time ago. I know better than to tell my little sordid store of secrets and stories. I will get dismissed. I will get that ‘okay, whatever’ face. I will get told I’m just attention-seeking. I will be laughed at. I will not be taken seriously. It will be used against me. It will be told to others without my permission. It will harm me if I tell. That’s what I have learned over the years. That people are just as awful and predatory and cruel and confusing as…yeah.

But. What’s been happening over the past two years or so, woman-toward.

It’s like seeing daylight after fumbling about in a dark room. You draw near the crack in the wall, look out into a world lit by the sun, get a whiff of fresh air. And then someone, from outside, brutally slaps a board over that crack, laughs as they nail that board over that small view you just had. Keeps laughing. Keeps laughing.


I think a lot of other women are angry, too. And anger gets shit done, to quote from American Gods, Mr. Nancy.

Women are watching this shitshow. They remember. Women remember. What’s going on now remains in memory. Coated with grit. Coated with whatever happened to them as well. Maybe this time it will be enough. Maybe this time. How many more Anita Hill-like episodes have to happen before that anger explodes into actual action? That’s…that’s the truly gut-wrenching, savaging part. How many more Anita Hill’s will it take? How many HOW FUCKING MANY? What’s the number? What’s the number??

It took quite a lot to get the vote for women. If you want to get funky, it took thousands of years for women to be able to vote on shit that impacts their lives. Thousands of years for women to have a say in policies that affect their bodies, their lives, their futures. It’s going to take quite a lot to get women regarded as human beings.


Ain’t it cute?? Women can vote now. They’ll probably vote on who they think is cutest. Or vote with their periods. Fucking bitches.

I hope it’s not a thousand more years for Jesustown, which is ‘murica’s new name, to decide women are human, too. I hope women don’t have to go about acting nice, smiling a lot, being so calm they resemble house plants until they can be themselves in public as well as mostly in private. As even in private, among our loved ones, women tend to wait until alone in the bathroom to scream into a pillow or cry their eyes out as the shower runs to hide the sounds. Or else they get called crazy. Or emotional. Or asked if they’re on their periods. Or. Or. Or. 

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from Fox 31, Denver, Colorado

Ford, after all, remained relatively calm during her testimony and got labeled anyway. Kavacunt went off the rails and got called a hero by the GOP. Go look that up. Go ahead. I dare ya. I also read yesterday that the bar keeps getting lowered for men and made even more impossible to clear for women. Yep. Uh huh. Duh.

I hope the collective anger right now builds to an actual result.

That this continuous shitshow ends. That’s there are real repercussions for yesterday’s massaging of the male ego. That’s what it appeared like to me, anyway. A massaging of that male ego that says men can do whatever they like to whomever they like, with no consequences. The men screaming and sobbing about poor Kavanaugh seemed more upset that he had to suffer this non-problem to get onto the SCOTUS.

As that shitshow yesterday was all for show.

I knew it.

They knew it. Everyone there knew it.

It was like watching a bad high school production of Twelve Angry Men. A really bad production where no one told the actors to not telegraph exactly what they’re going to do next.

Hey–unless you’re a blind nun who worked among lepers for the last eighty years, your words will be ignored, spit on, not believed and used against you. But since you’re a nun, and a woman, your words won’t be heard in the first place.

Sorry! Grow a penis, hon! Then we’ll take you seriously. Then you’ll matter, you’ll count.

What happened in the past should not impact how men should be rewarded with the highest honor a judge in America can be rewarded, damn it! He’s older now! He coaches girlie basketball, damn it! How dare you interrupt the rise of a magnificent man like this???!!!

How dare you.


How dare you.

It’s hard to concentrate on anything right now. Maybe I need to. I. Maybe.

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A Gown of Stars and Diamonds

from Zazzle

Once upon a time, she wore a gown of stars and diamonds. She moved through the crowds, who called her names beneath their breath, like cunt and twat and bitch, and smiled to her face while calling her pretty and nice. She danced with no one, just herself, letting her skirts swirl out, taking the very middle of the floor.

That music is for everyone, someone muttered, others muttered that moments after. Until everyone said it but the one dancing.

She must be taught a lesson, that cunt, that twat, that bitch. She must be taught she doesn’t matter at all, that’s she’s to be looked at, that’s she’s to be divided into pieces for all to enjoy. That she doesn’t belong to herself. That she must dance in private or dance as we want her to.

The crowd surrounded her.

Her dress of stars and diamonds torn away, replaced with a dress of mud and thorns. They cut her tongue out so she would stop screaming. They cut off her hands so she would stop fighting. They cut off her legs so she could not run away. They removed her eyes so she could not mark their faces into her brain. They stuffed wads of cloth in each ear so she could not hear their voices to mark them into her brain. They removed her brain to make sure all others in their star and diamond dresses would know to take them off, and put on the dresses of mud and thorns.

And they did.

Help us teach her that final lesson, said the crowd to these women now wearing mud and thorns. Or you will be next. So the women in their approved mud, in their smiled upon thorns, helped carry off the severed arms and legs. They burned the tongue, stomped the eyeballs flat, stuffed more cloth into the ears, fried the brain with butter to serve to the hounds.

Through the years, only a few dared dance in the middle of that floor wearing the universe on her skin. The ghost of that first one rises to join them.

The women yet in mud and thorns look away, their anger tamped down like coals in a stone hearth. Come dance with us, speak the ones dancing.

Not yet, not yet, shhh, the rest say, longing like a taste of bitter almonds in their throats.


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from One World Education

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I have tried for a week to get into Blue Valentine. I don’t find it heartbreaking. I find it annoying. I’m not watching a delicate relationship dance being played out by two trembling souls on the verge of self-realization about wuv. Eh. I’m watching two sullen lumps mope about, wishing they weren’t married to each other.

I’m not charmed at all. There’s a kid. The family dogs gets found run over on the side of the road in the first ten minutes or so. After that I checked out.

Jen or Cindy or whatever, comes across as Kristen Stewart without the sparkling personality. Stewart from the Twilight movies, that low-energy, barely a facial ripple, smiling and frowning same twitch of lips.

Michelle Williams can act, I guess. I’m not really a fan. It seems she plays the same role over and over. Sad girlfriend/wife type. She seems to have one range. Which is– Sad. She does sad and it pays her bills. Go American dream, go! The American dream is alive and well when a person can make a living expressing a sad face a lot. Hallelujah!

Sad face. Michelle Williams as, um, that woman in Blue Valentine.

I’m not that big of a fan of Gosling, either, for that matter. He’s the indy Mope Man. My opinion! But he does have actual range. I did like Lars and the Real Girl. Do not judge me.

I did love his SNL sketch on alien abduction, where Kate McKinnon got everyone there to break character with her version of what happened on the spaceship. It was kinda nice to watch Gosling snicker behind his hand as if they were in some high school play and somebody had farted.

McKinnon, Cecily Strong and Gosling. SNL’s Close Encounter.

But here, in Blue Bore, er, Blue Valentine, it seems the love of his life just settled for him, and finds him repulsive now. His character, George, Bob, Fernando? has all the charisma of a smashed banana peel. Ashley or Madison, whatever her name is, does a lot of sad faces around him.

He’s ACTING away at her, she’s giving back sad face. That’s about all I’ve gotten from this movie so far. BREAK UP ALREADY, YOU CRAZY KIDS. I should be weeping and begging this on-screen couple to make it work, right? Ugh.

I then popped in You’ve Got Mail, because I found it at the thrift store. Where I also found Blue Mopentine. Er, Valentine.

Cranky whiny Meg Ryan, charming affable capitalist gentleman Tom Hanks closing down her bookstore, and she falls in love with him. But!! But we do see why she would. He’s quick on the draw, he’s eye candy, he’s very New York-ish. He’s also non-threatening, not creepy while still being obviously straight guy who’s probably okay in bed. Not freaky/hot/scary/spank me again, daddy level but more, well, not that sort of guy. 

Great. Now I have Tom Hanks dressed up in dungeon wear, with a cat-o-nine tails, ready to go. Stop it, brain!! No, do not show me the little airless room where Hanks cracks that whip and whispers to get in position, whore.  Do not ruin Tom Hanks for me!!  Bad brain!! I’ll make you keep watching Blue Mopentine! Okay, then. 

–Now, do I keep that above in or erase it so no one has to suffer that image as well? Ha ha, suffer all one or two who read this! Suffer! Or not. —

Back to You’ve Got Male. Deliberate use of male for mail. In case you were wondering.

I don’t understand why he’d fall for her…as she does nothing but insult him to his face, but they do share a sort of chatroom/email intimacy. [[She’s skinny and blond, so of course he adores her. Yeah, there it is.]] Where he gets to read the ‘real’ her. He also knows most of the movie that she’s his internet pen pal, she has to find…ah. It’s so romantical! He has all the power here!! Just so romantical!!

That’s not a real word. I know, computer spell check. I know. Thanks. 

If you haven’t seen this 90’s very chick flick, well! It’s based on the Shop Around the Corner, with Jimmy Stewart. I found that movie a lot cruel. I find You’ve Got Mail a bit cruel as well. I did mention I don’t have Netflix or Hulu, right? Because I’m poor? That’s why I’m not binge-watching Bob’s Left Elbow or whatever the newest series is that just got downloaded for binge purposes.

Oh well. At least I have nearly all of Glee on DVD! Life is barely tolerable! 

Also– dial up! DIAL UP was yet a thing in that movie. Cute! I do remember dial up, waiting for the big fancy computer to hook up to that crazy internet. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Then having to try it again. Maybe it would hook up. You had to hope others were not also trying to hook up, as that slowed connection speed way way way down.


Then of course you looked up porn.

No, just kidding! Not really.

So, I’ve been wanting to see Blue Valentine. I’ve heard how GREAT it was. For me, not so much.

I hope I can finish it. I don’t want to. My life sucks, as the kids used to say. I don’t need to wallow in two people’s shallowness, rolling my eyes a lot, sighing those gigantic disgusted sighs you do, while wondering if I should just burn the DVD as an offering to the writing gods.

Oooh. Oooh!!

What does any of this have to do with writing, my writing? Or  MY novels, plays, poems or essays against man’s inhumanity to man? Not a thing, darlings. Not a damn thing.

Wonderfalls Visited!

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from Wikipedia

I had Wonderfalls, the first episode, earmarked for watching later. Months go by. There it is. Wonderfalls, crazy lady talks to statues or something. Lighthearted fun. Niagara Falls locale. Pretty!

Finally, I actually bothered to watch it. The anticipation, right? It was killing you?

At first, I LOVED IT. Oh my gosh!

Jaye, played by Caroline Dhavernas, the main gal who gets talked at by various stuffed animals and little statue thingies– that’s just the Everywoman character that we want to root for. She lives in a trailer, how quirky! Jaye went to Brown, yet she’s working in a gift shop as a clerk! Quirky squared! She’s pretty, young, and sarcastic! Ah!


She’s got a wacky family. Who does not? I wish, frankly and unabashedly, that they’d been the bulk of this show rather than trotted out now and then like show ponies.

The Tylers: Katie Finnerman as Sharon. Lee Pace as Aaron. William Sadler as Darrin and Diana Scarwid as Karen. 

Lee Pace as the brother! Those eyebrows. I loved Pushing Daisies, so here he gets to play someone quite different than the guy who can bring dead stuff back to life for a minute.

One of the better parts of the Hobbit trilogy. Getting to watch Legolas’s daddy having a really good time in a forest setting. 

The older sister, Sharon, an immigration lawyer and a closeted lesbian. She’s also awkward, ambitious, real, a smoker, sort of the one left out in the family dynamics.

The mother, now. At first she seemed a typical shallow WASP mommy type, then she wasn’t. The dad, same thing, then he wasn’t; they grew on ya.

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from Living Dead Guy Productions. The Tyler Family from Wonderfalls.

The best friend is not white. She and Jaye do a lot of drinking. She’s sassy, this friend. Real sassy. Mostly a foil for Our Heroine Jaye. Tracie Thoms as Mahandra. Yep, that’s her name. 


The boyfriend, played by Tyrin Leitso, a cute bartender whose wife went to town on some bellhop on their wedding night.

Remember this. Because. Yes, I will revisit this one. He’s pretty. And harmless as a Labrador puppy, the perfect foil for our sharp-tongued, snarky, yet gorgeous little heroine. She has a lot of foils around her. Well, two. He is BOYFRIEND POTENTIAL NUMBER ONE. Sort of like Luke over on Gilmore Girls. Well, this one’s scruffy and wears the guy outfit of plaid shirt, jeans, but he’s more puppy than snarling alpha wolf archetype we gals are told we really like. 

Now, every episode deals with one of the objects around Jaye who give her rather cryptic sayings that she has to figure out. Which usually leads her to helping someone. Which is not her modus operandi! She’s a quirky, selfish, self-involved, people-hating store clerk, dang it! No ambitions like her go-getter sister! Does not pursue her education, like her brother! She has to open up! Be kind! Help others! She even goes to therapy because people think she’s cracking, because she’s acting nice to others a bit. Yep!

Which is actually funny. The writing remains funny and light enough in tone. There’s that air of whimsy one wants in a talking objects hour-long show. The objects that talk, a lion statue, a brass monkey, the fish at the bar, look natural enough. Whoever did the special effects, well done. Even on a grainy youtube video.

Ah, the brother starts to notice his sister is not acting like herself. The three siblings actually act like siblings. They fight, they hate each other, they get comfort from each other. Jay confides in her brother a bit, then a bit more, then enlists his help to rid her of her little tormentors. There’s also Jaye’s best friend getting involved romantically with Jaye’s brother, in secret. I really liked that pairing. It seemed far more interesting and complex than Jaye and the bartender guy panting politely over each other.

Okay, I’ve hinted at the Jaye and bartender guy blues I so obviously wish to send over the falls in a barrel. Yes, there was an episode on just that, with Rue McClanahan and Louise Fletcher, called Barrel Bear. I liked that episode, it surprised me. Did not go like I thought it would.

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from the EW Community. Dharvenas as Jaye and Leitso as Eric. 

But. Jaye and Eric. That’s his name. I forgot it until I went to look something up just now. We get the hunky quiet guy and the obviously quirky sarcasm queen baking a little romance cake for several episodes. It’s building. It’s building. I’m sighing a bit, wondering when they’ll DO IT ALREADY. In the episode about the two macaws, they finally kiss. I think that was the episode. The two rare birds then decide to mate in the sister’s car. Ha ha.

Anyway, we don’t have to suffer any actual triangles or complications just yet. No real villain has shown up to actually disrupt Miss Quirky’s lifestyle choices. Mostly it’s just Jaye fighting her own nature, tee hee. The best friend is salty and honest. The family is weird and quirky and rather lovable. I kinda wish the show had centered more on the family than Jaye.

I’m starting to notice that odd thought more and more in my head. Wish they had centered more on her sister, brother, mom and dad than…um, Jaye. Ahem.

I do like Jaye. Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t sit through the Wonderfalls marathon available if I had not. The actress engages, tackles the material with a right good will and seems to be having lots of fun. So I have fun, too!

Anyway. So Eric and Jaye are POISED FOR ROMANCE. When who shows up??? Yep! That not yet ex-wife of Eric’s, named Heidi.

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from Wiki Fandom. Jewel Staite as Heidi Gotts.

No offense to the actress, but oh my God, did I hate her the minute she opened her mouth. Her voice. It just. Fingernails on a million chalkboards time. Jewel Staite. As Heidi Ho, as Jaye’s best friend called her. I just flinched. I had a hard time even sitting through the ep. I looked away a lot. Jaye, of course, gets advice that she has to cede the floor to Heidi, not tell Eric how she feelz about him. She’s got real big feelz for him. There’s a literal girl fight taking place. God damn it! Did the writers go out for a pizza or something here? Did they let actual lions write this one?

Eric actually got down to brass tacks with Jaye before all this Heido Ho biznass. Do you like me or not time. Our Heroine froze like a deer in headlights! Cute!

Okay. So, the not yet ex wife shows back up, wants her man back from man-eater, other woman Jaye.

Heidi? She’s awful. Truly so. I zone out so much that if she has layers or can garner sympathy, eh. Argh. Uck. Stop talking, you rat-faced product of a demon and a toy poodle! A squeaky toy brought to life! If I fast forward through her shit, will that help?

She and Jaye rumble. The best friend, who knows Jaye, has warned the bartender guy not to fall for Jaye, as Jaye allegedly chews men up and spits them out every other day. Jaye’s a heartbreaker, ya’ll.

Jaye’s talking posse of stuffed animals, statues and backpacks, even a snake on a shirt, guide her to not tell bartender guy about her FEELINGS. To make it seem she never had any real ones toward Puppy Man. To stand by while squeaky toy Heidi Ho takes center stage in Puppy Man’s life. There’s even Jaye thinking Heidi might be murdering Eric! It’s whacky! There’s ED pills involved!

And Jaye having to cry a lot, pretend she’s not crying over all this and Eric looking SAD a lot as Heidi looks MAD a lot. I also wondered if Heidi has a trust fund. Where has she been all this time? She can now drop everything, hang out in Niagara Falls with no gainful employment?

Oh this is getting long. Okay!

Yes, exactly what we think will happen happens. Eric and Jaye discover they’re each other’s dates for the Prom. By the time I get to the last episode, Caged Bird, I’m just enduring this thing. A repeat of Jaye telling Eric she doesn’t like him. The objects telling Jaye vague shit that she has to decipher. Give him heart! Whatever, caged bird! Yes, Heidi Ho discovering she’s not the one for Labrador puppy. I just. Yeah.

from WhatisWonderfalls. Yes, what Jaye was told to do. Quirky results followed!

I can pinpoint my disenchantment with this show the minute the not quite ex wife shows up. The growing rift between Jaye and Eric seems oddly artificial and fake. I feel very manipulated.

The show, before this, cutesy a bit. Sure. Whimsy on overload, yes. But I rather like whimsy, and hey, a bit of cute and gentle, why not. But!! Adding that Heidi thing, fuck me with a brass monkey.

I checked out. I rolled my eyes a lot. I skipped ahead a bit, trying to find scenes that didn’t involve this triangle of idiots. I wondered what was on the other channel. Back when people still had channels and not streaming services. Ah, the good ole days.

I’d rather watch an Orange Hellbeast NuNazi Rally in MontaWyNebTexas than endure returning to the Heidi-heavy episodes. Which seemed all the episodes after eight or so.

Okay, I would not. I could not last more than five seconds through those Nuremberg-esque I’m the Greatest, Everyone Else is Shit rallies from hell.

So! I really enjoyed the first half of the thirteen episodes. That’s all there is. This show got cancelled before it could really get going. Sort of like Firefly, Moonlight, and Freaks and Geeks. Wonderfalls has cult status for a reason. It’s well done. The writing is sharp and funny. It’s character-driven. More or less. It’s not like everything else out there. Until the will they/won’t they crap starts up, of course.

Anyway! That’s my ramble on Wonderfalls. Below is the theme song, by Andy Partridge. Enjoy!


New Play Exchange


A quickie. I have followed the herd over to the New Play Exchange. I am listing my plays well received to those indifferently passed over. Plus everything in between. 




from the Mating Season of Flying Monkeys

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Justyna Cross, Ireland. From Cinnamon Rainbow

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Fancy Meeting You Here & The Care and Feeding of Baby Birds, Hollywood