Even if I wanted to go my schedule wouldn’t allow it. 4:00, wallow in self pity; 4:30, stare into the abyss; 5:00, solve world hunger, tell no one; 5:30, jazzercize; 6:30, dinner with me – I can’t cancel that again; 7:00, wrestle with my self-loathing… I’m booked. Of course, if I bump the loathing to 9, I could still be done in time to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and slip slowly into madness. But what would I wear?
Kalynn Hawkins is not nearly as mad, heartless, and onion-layered as the Grinch, but what is the connection besides it being an all time-year-round favorite? It’s the quote that gives the idea, of course not her standing alone. She, like many others, does indeed love quotes,memorably because they capture the thought that once was, the idea that may have vanished, the quotation that is no more. Similar to her finding herself: she hasn’t lost who she was, but she’s just now figuring it out. That adds to the collection of HER, along with non-surface level poetry, artistic hats, and lip bar melodies intoxicated over her silhouette. Her & the Grinch have much more in common than the hairy softness, deep rooted intensity to love, and sarcastic jokes based on academic value. Frappiciunos with a splash of hazelnut lay on the coolness of her breathe, no whip-cream of course! Onions. Layers. Words. It’s easy to think that one might “smell themselves” if they’re related ever so closely to an onion, and that one cries massively or atleast has the ability to make others do the same. That’s not exactly Kalynn, but she can be in the Michigan isle with the onions, across from the maize & blue coffee cups among vegtables with hummus and of course, many layers, awaiting the rawness of being peeled.