Yesterday I felt like a true hero, I volunteered at a shelter/art studio for the poor and tried a tampon for the first time! Aw hell yeah. I'm gettin' Bionic on yo' ass.
So I volunteered at a place in the Tenderloin that is a free art studio for the homeless. They can come in, create paintings, sculptures, or silkscreens. Then the art is auctioned off and all of the proceeds go to the artist. I think this is a wonderful idea, I love how it encourages self-sufficiency through expression. Many flyers around the place said things like "Create your art, help dispel the myths behind the homeless through your images! How will they know the plight of the poor if they do not hear our voices?" The artwork was beautiful, there was one collection where the artist had plastered pieces from newspaper clippings to painted wood glued with industrial machine parts. One piece struck me. It said, "Entertain me into believing." I stood and stared at it for quite some time. One deaf homeless man created two beautiful paintings while I was there and kept pointing to his painting and clapping. He tried to communicate with me in sign language and I didn't know how to communicate back but to point at his painting and smile while giving him a thumbs up. He was happy. Another man shared with me how he came to this place to get away from the drugs and nightmares of the street.
Maybe this sounds weird, but I started thinking on my way home and it made me upset that if you're low income and you dabble in drugs, you get this horrible addiction that will most likely fuck up your whole life and kill you, nobody helps you and nobody mourns your death. If you're rich and pretty, you have the privilege to experiment with heroin and meth, etc. And if you happen to fuck yourself up, then mommy and daddy can come and rescue you in their yaht with all their money and send you to Betty Ford. I've actually seen a couple of my friends that are rich go to Betty Ford and I am happy they're clean now, but also pissed that the poor don't get second chances like that.
As for me, I just don't do drugs because I know if I got some horrible addiction, my family would not be there for me, they'd probably leave me twitching in a gutter somewhere. I'm a self-reliant girl because at every point in my life where i've needed support from them, they've let me down. So I stay strong and disciplined to survive. My art is the only reason I am not insane or on crack. I'm glad this place helps the poor to cultivate their own talents with creative writing and painting to help keep them off drugs and express themselves.
So yeah, then I tried a tampon.
My vagina was scared, it immediately whipped out a harmonica and sang, "Nobody knows the troubles i've seen, nobody knows my sorrow" as I shushed it reassuringly and approached it with the plastic applicator. The verdict? I hate tampons. Yeah it was convenient, etc but I can't watch myself sink a foreign object into my body. It makes me feel sick. Like watching myself plunge a dagger into my side. I couldn't watch the carnage. I will, however, use them when I have to go out dancing or to Tae kwon do.
After that I went to the Gravy Train show at the Bottom of the Hill. All of the bands that opened for them sucked, with the exception of the Glamour Pussies. The guitarist from the very first band approached me later on that night and, having put a glass of water in her mouth, spit it all over me. Then when Gravy Train came on, they had technical difficulties for like an hour and only got to play 5 of their songs.
Then I came home and talked to Grrlhavoc before I went to sleep. She has absolutely the cutest sleepy girl voice ever.
So I volunteered at a place in the Tenderloin that is a free art studio for the homeless. They can come in, create paintings, sculptures, or silkscreens. Then the art is auctioned off and all of the proceeds go to the artist. I think this is a wonderful idea, I love how it encourages self-sufficiency through expression. Many flyers around the place said things like "Create your art, help dispel the myths behind the homeless through your images! How will they know the plight of the poor if they do not hear our voices?" The artwork was beautiful, there was one collection where the artist had plastered pieces from newspaper clippings to painted wood glued with industrial machine parts. One piece struck me. It said, "Entertain me into believing." I stood and stared at it for quite some time. One deaf homeless man created two beautiful paintings while I was there and kept pointing to his painting and clapping. He tried to communicate with me in sign language and I didn't know how to communicate back but to point at his painting and smile while giving him a thumbs up. He was happy. Another man shared with me how he came to this place to get away from the drugs and nightmares of the street.
Maybe this sounds weird, but I started thinking on my way home and it made me upset that if you're low income and you dabble in drugs, you get this horrible addiction that will most likely fuck up your whole life and kill you, nobody helps you and nobody mourns your death. If you're rich and pretty, you have the privilege to experiment with heroin and meth, etc. And if you happen to fuck yourself up, then mommy and daddy can come and rescue you in their yaht with all their money and send you to Betty Ford. I've actually seen a couple of my friends that are rich go to Betty Ford and I am happy they're clean now, but also pissed that the poor don't get second chances like that.
As for me, I just don't do drugs because I know if I got some horrible addiction, my family would not be there for me, they'd probably leave me twitching in a gutter somewhere. I'm a self-reliant girl because at every point in my life where i've needed support from them, they've let me down. So I stay strong and disciplined to survive. My art is the only reason I am not insane or on crack. I'm glad this place helps the poor to cultivate their own talents with creative writing and painting to help keep them off drugs and express themselves.
So yeah, then I tried a tampon.
My vagina was scared, it immediately whipped out a harmonica and sang, "Nobody knows the troubles i've seen, nobody knows my sorrow" as I shushed it reassuringly and approached it with the plastic applicator. The verdict? I hate tampons. Yeah it was convenient, etc but I can't watch myself sink a foreign object into my body. It makes me feel sick. Like watching myself plunge a dagger into my side. I couldn't watch the carnage. I will, however, use them when I have to go out dancing or to Tae kwon do.
After that I went to the Gravy Train show at the Bottom of the Hill. All of the bands that opened for them sucked, with the exception of the Glamour Pussies. The guitarist from the very first band approached me later on that night and, having put a glass of water in her mouth, spit it all over me. Then when Gravy Train came on, they had technical difficulties for like an hour and only got to play 5 of their songs.
Then I came home and talked to Grrlhavoc before I went to sleep. She has absolutely the cutest sleepy girl voice ever.
VIEW 18 of 18 COMMENTS
astrid:
The shelter/art studio sounds wonderful. I've never heard of anything like that before. It's such a great idea. It gives me the warm fuzzies just thinking about it. Would you mind telling me the name of the place?
astrid:
Thanks hun! That place just sounds so awesome, I wanted to know more about! Plus I want to find out if there's anything like it close to where I live.