i feel like my head's on fire. bleach stings like a bitch. hopefully after this fiasco i will be blond...or bald so, uh, yeah.............
damn! the mirror in our bedroom just broke, fell for no reason while i was in the shower. and i am superstitious. this sucks. that's it, i'm getting rid of The Exorcist book. its evil. i knew it......
tomorrow there's a book fair for books published by independent publishers such as Soft Skull and the like. there will be seminars on finding the right agents, plus a seminar on writing crime fiction maggie estep is going to be there. i can't wait...........
here is a bit from the book i sent to my agent yesterday. enjoy, babies

"Bound To Die Young"
I actually liked the bathroom. It was huge and comfy and I could pretend I was in someone’s house instead of a get-off swamp cage. I wanted to stay in there forever. I was cold and I felt small compared to all the other girls. Everyone was so tall and big boned and dry and empty and did what they were supposed to. I took out my profile. I couldn’t read it because my eyes were teary. I felt like calling Tosh, who had the day off, and asking her if she wanted my client. We could do that, at least as far as I knew. I looked down at the paper. Diaper change, check, enema, check, golden shower, check.
I dug my cell phone out and pulled Tosh’s number up. I prayed she’d answer. I checked myself in the mirror. My black latex dress was bulky around my small frame. My hair didn’t look right. I heard Heather’s group of girls laugh. It carried an echo. I got Tosh’s voice mail and hung up.
Dead Cat was in the bedroom. He was probably in his early forties. Most of his hair was gone. I’m not sure what was left was real or not; whatever it was rested on the tip of his head like a carpet sample. His tiny eyes seemed colorless. He was short. As he sat on the edge of the bed, his feet did not touch the floor. He kicked his legs out like an anxious child. His smile made his face seem like a pile of lard. He was wearing light brown khakis that had shrunk in the dryer, and a sky-blue buttoned down shirt. It looked like a required uniform for Kinkos, which made sense because he smelled like hot paper. He waited; a shy pile of dough, for me to do something. I tried to give it my all, remembering everything I’d learned from Hannah’s dominatrix class.
“I am Mistress Clarissa and you will respect me no matter what I do,” I clarified, walking across the dimly lit room. I had no idea why I was going over to the corner. The pile of diapers was at Dead Cat’s feet.
“Yes, ma’am,” he spoke back, his voice fragile, “I will do whatever you say.” When he said “whatever,” his head rolled around. He got on all fours and crawled over to me. He smelled like shit. Hot paper and shit. I walked over to the Huggies and tore into the pack.
“What a filthy worthless child you are!” I slapped the bed with my hand. “You disgust me! Take your clothes off!” I was glad it was dark, because despite the control of my voice, I felt tears coming on. Something about the way the room was set up triggered something inside of me. I felt like the one trapped. The smell of shit became more defined as he took off his khakis and his enormous filthy white boxers. I threw the diaper at him. He stared at it on the floor in front of him, confused. After a few long seconds he looked up at me, his eyes big pools of tears.
“But I want you to put it on,” he whined ferociously. “You put it on ME!” he stood up and came over to me. “You put it on me!”
I ran over to the alarm button by the door and pushed it.
“Please!” he fell to his knees. “No, don’t go, I’ll do it, okay, mommy? I’ll do it,” he sobbed, reaching for the diaper and trying to put it on.
Hannah knocked on the door.
“Everything okay?”
I watched the forty year-old man toy with the diaper.
“Yes,” I called back. I only had half an hour left to spend with him. Then I could collect my seventy dollars and go home. I went to the man’s aid, snapping the diaper on and rocking him back and forth.