Ain't she lovely? I just had to have a picture of this little lady , so I took her off on the office floor and snapped. After being angsty about an encounter with a princess warrior in the streets once, when I had a big-hearted altruistic moment with humanity---let alone in my thoughts–-I figured shoes is an important part of our being, in that it helps us feel good about ourselves, and buoys us up to the fluffy clouds of material indulgence. A reward for our hard work and pinings, for those countless times we stick our noses on store windows and salivate on the shiny beauties, longing that on a fortuitous pay day we can finally point with shaky fingers and bated breath to THE ONE, yeaaahhh thaaaaat, and take them out proudly from their incandescent cages of desire.... hence, my unaissailable gluttony for it can always and forever be justified. Who doesn’t love shoes, eh? Stand up and speak out, or forever hold your bunions to yourself. I admit shoes is one of my favorite things on earth, but I don’t mean the manolo blahniks that will disfigure your life, nor the garden sort of variety that will leave a bad taste on your poor toes. Eeeek, fuck the metaphor. I just mean good sensible shoes. Regardless of the name. Regardless of the price. Naturalmente, these shiny black martinez valeros set me high up there in the self-possessing, elation department. And that is rare to come by ....
So sue me.
