They wear flats and colorful cardigans to match their bright eyes. They alway ask, “How are you?” in musical voices and smile a lot. Too much, if you ask me. All eagerness and can-do attitude. They’re so straitlaced it’s subversive; sweetly suffocating you with a pillow of youthful charm.
A middle-aged man wearing overalls telling you about every project he made in 7th grade home economics.
Life’s a beach. Dive in. Life’s a beach. Warning! No lifeguard on duty, and there are sharks in the water, probably. Swim at your own risk. Life’s a beach. The saltwater is burning my eyes. Life’s a beach. I cut my foot on a rogue piece of glass while frolicking in the sand. Shit. Life’s a beach. A jellyfish stung my leg, so I peed on myself, but it turns out that doesn’t help at all. Fuck.
I think of performance art in the same way I think of childbirth: sweaty, bloody, painful for everyone involved.
A twerk is a unit of measurement: ‘on a scale of one to twerk’. A twerk is a seasonal baked good. A twerk is a currency used in Lithuania: the exchange rate is currently 2.55 twerks to the US dollar. A twerk is an annoyingly excitable person: ‘James is such a twerk.’