-First and foremost please check out my interview with Burk Sauls of the Free The West Memphis Three Support Group and please leave a comment. Myself and Burk both put a lot of time and energy into that interview and I am particularly proud of it because I deeply believe in what Burk is doing and all the other people working so hard for the west Memphis three.
-Thanks for insight into some of your unconsciousness'.
I don't know what to think about dream interpretation, I have this Freudian book and everything comes back to some sort of incestuous fantasy that I'm sure he was just projecting.
-I have rape dreams and all sorts of science fiction dreams where I'm on another planet, In another realm..
-I visited with my little half sister and am forever grateful of my bond with her. We play make-believe and she has a wonderful imagination.
-Is it unusual? The tearing of ones spirit when so quickly disconnected from someone you loved?
-I feel stuck, visions of trying to run through muddy water to get to the other side, I applied for an apartment to live in in Vermont and go to school for a while. "It won't be permanent." She keeps saying. She who bore me and abandoned me and had lovers that tried to rape my teenage soul. And what does she know? I keep asking myself. I feel a lack of inspiration here and am only stuck because this psychiatrist says if I try to get off these drugs too fast it could be catastrophic to my psyche, that and a lack of money. I wanted so badly for my soul brother to come join me but he abandoned me again when I needed him most with foolish talk of Mexico. Have fun Gringo.
-Readjusting to society is harder than expected. I spend too much time dreaming and in my head, writing, painting, collaging. Self expression and movement is imperative for us lost angels. I liked to stay on the outskirts, hopping freights, hitching the country, staying close to the grit. Now I live in one of the safest states in America with probably one of the smallest minority percentages. All the queer girls bore me with their matching American eagle clothes, I love women, and there would be nothing better than a woman to inspire me right now but it's crazy women that I adore. The ones that have secret pasts as whores or junkies or self mutilators, the ones that have maybe been institutionalized because they don't think within the confines, the ones that take acid and go on spontaneous road trips, The ones who have enough experience to not get freaked out by everlasting but fading track marks. I want to disappear to san fransisco but theres someone there that haunts me that I'd rather not run into as well as the high motherfuckin cost of livin. So, No crack dealers on any bad streets, no hustling whores to make friends with. Here they do hillbilly heroin and paint their faces to cover up their soulless fuckin boredom. Don't you know, that the fuckin flaw keeps me alive, That the imperfection is my muse? In the words of the amazing but theatrical Virginia woolf in one of my favorite films the hours she says "This is my right; it is the right of every human being. I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of the suburbs, but the violent jolt of the Capital, that is my choice. The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity but if it is a choice between Richmond and death, I choose death."
So anyway here's some eye candy for you, taken by nobodaddy on st. patricks day. Later that night I blacked out, screamed, got in fights, had a knife in my hand, smashed a wine bottle, and the police were called, you know, lived a little.
-Thanks for insight into some of your unconsciousness'.
I don't know what to think about dream interpretation, I have this Freudian book and everything comes back to some sort of incestuous fantasy that I'm sure he was just projecting.
-I have rape dreams and all sorts of science fiction dreams where I'm on another planet, In another realm..
-I visited with my little half sister and am forever grateful of my bond with her. We play make-believe and she has a wonderful imagination.
-Is it unusual? The tearing of ones spirit when so quickly disconnected from someone you loved?
-I feel stuck, visions of trying to run through muddy water to get to the other side, I applied for an apartment to live in in Vermont and go to school for a while. "It won't be permanent." She keeps saying. She who bore me and abandoned me and had lovers that tried to rape my teenage soul. And what does she know? I keep asking myself. I feel a lack of inspiration here and am only stuck because this psychiatrist says if I try to get off these drugs too fast it could be catastrophic to my psyche, that and a lack of money. I wanted so badly for my soul brother to come join me but he abandoned me again when I needed him most with foolish talk of Mexico. Have fun Gringo.
-Readjusting to society is harder than expected. I spend too much time dreaming and in my head, writing, painting, collaging. Self expression and movement is imperative for us lost angels. I liked to stay on the outskirts, hopping freights, hitching the country, staying close to the grit. Now I live in one of the safest states in America with probably one of the smallest minority percentages. All the queer girls bore me with their matching American eagle clothes, I love women, and there would be nothing better than a woman to inspire me right now but it's crazy women that I adore. The ones that have secret pasts as whores or junkies or self mutilators, the ones that have maybe been institutionalized because they don't think within the confines, the ones that take acid and go on spontaneous road trips, The ones who have enough experience to not get freaked out by everlasting but fading track marks. I want to disappear to san fransisco but theres someone there that haunts me that I'd rather not run into as well as the high motherfuckin cost of livin. So, No crack dealers on any bad streets, no hustling whores to make friends with. Here they do hillbilly heroin and paint their faces to cover up their soulless fuckin boredom. Don't you know, that the fuckin flaw keeps me alive, That the imperfection is my muse? In the words of the amazing but theatrical Virginia woolf in one of my favorite films the hours she says "This is my right; it is the right of every human being. I choose not the suffocating anesthetic of the suburbs, but the violent jolt of the Capital, that is my choice. The meanest patient, yes, even the very lowest is allowed some say in the matter of her own prescription. Thereby she defines her humanity but if it is a choice between Richmond and death, I choose death."
So anyway here's some eye candy for you, taken by nobodaddy on st. patricks day. Later that night I blacked out, screamed, got in fights, had a knife in my hand, smashed a wine bottle, and the police were called, you know, lived a little.
VIEW 25 of 52 COMMENTS
your hair is so lucious.
i hav a lot of rape dreams too, one time i dreamt i got raped in a taxi by some man who used an umbrella for it.
sex hasn't been the same since.
sometimes calm is good, actually, it's often good. enjoy the softness of the bubble, rest yourself before you get your purdy self back on the track(s)
all my love
mercedes