Well, I guess we thought we were in the clear for the moment, which was foolish. The haunted house doesn't want us to go, but alas, we've got a month to vacate. Where ever I live next will be the 13th place I've moved to in the past 8 years. I guess that makes it lucky, too. I sure feel lucky. So lucky I could vanish into thin air.
At night I can't sleep because my shoulders hurt. I don't know how I hurt them but it's a terrible feeling. The room's too hot, the fan's too loud, the bed's too crinkly. I am too worried about work. I haven't gone out anywhere in longer than I can remember. If there was any feeling left in there, I'd be depressed. Thank goodness I'm empty inside today.
I am doing a live performance in a group folk art show. I've come to realize that trying to explain what video art and performance art is to people who are not familiar with it is a waste of everyone's time. In the end, it'll matter to the people who it matters to. To the rest...
"It's like, some naked girl dancing around or something."
Spot. On. And thanks for watching.
I swear I'm not depressed- so far this post seems depressing, but I promise I'm not depressed or anything at all.
I want a home because homelessness is uncomfortable. I do not have a car anymore. I do not want a car. It doesn't matter. One of my cab drivers got insulted when I gave him a $5 tip. I tip high because it hurts so much when I don't get a tip, that I want to make sure everyone who serves me knows I'm appreciative. "I don't need this shit," he says, "I only drive the cab 3 days a week, I don't need your sympathy!".
If only he knew that it wasn't sympathy. I am not the elite, and this week I will spend half of my weekly income on transportation and tips. And, sir, if it's all the same to you, $5 doesn't mean nothing to me, and I'll take it back and get myself a week's worth of milk, if it's all the fucking same to you. Thanks.
Feeling my breast lump makes Kev's whole body shake. Inside-the-body stuff creeps him out. If you were to cut off my index finger right in the exact middle of the middle section, between the first and second bend, you'd have the same size and shape. It's like someone cut off part of a finger and put it deep under my skin. I would love for the time to come where everything falls in to place. Some day I will understand how a body with so many parts could fall through so many cracks.
If I had a car, I would go to the market and all of my milk would come in big wonderful glass bottles like it used to.
Have an easy week. Time to pack and find a new place to live.
At night I can't sleep because my shoulders hurt. I don't know how I hurt them but it's a terrible feeling. The room's too hot, the fan's too loud, the bed's too crinkly. I am too worried about work. I haven't gone out anywhere in longer than I can remember. If there was any feeling left in there, I'd be depressed. Thank goodness I'm empty inside today.
I am doing a live performance in a group folk art show. I've come to realize that trying to explain what video art and performance art is to people who are not familiar with it is a waste of everyone's time. In the end, it'll matter to the people who it matters to. To the rest...
"It's like, some naked girl dancing around or something."
Spot. On. And thanks for watching. I swear I'm not depressed- so far this post seems depressing, but I promise I'm not depressed or anything at all.
I want a home because homelessness is uncomfortable. I do not have a car anymore. I do not want a car. It doesn't matter. One of my cab drivers got insulted when I gave him a $5 tip. I tip high because it hurts so much when I don't get a tip, that I want to make sure everyone who serves me knows I'm appreciative. "I don't need this shit," he says, "I only drive the cab 3 days a week, I don't need your sympathy!".
If only he knew that it wasn't sympathy. I am not the elite, and this week I will spend half of my weekly income on transportation and tips. And, sir, if it's all the same to you, $5 doesn't mean nothing to me, and I'll take it back and get myself a week's worth of milk, if it's all the fucking same to you. Thanks.
Feeling my breast lump makes Kev's whole body shake. Inside-the-body stuff creeps him out. If you were to cut off my index finger right in the exact middle of the middle section, between the first and second bend, you'd have the same size and shape. It's like someone cut off part of a finger and put it deep under my skin. I would love for the time to come where everything falls in to place. Some day I will understand how a body with so many parts could fall through so many cracks.
If I had a car, I would go to the market and all of my milk would come in big wonderful glass bottles like it used to.
Have an easy week. Time to pack and find a new place to live.
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
I miss you oodles and oodles! I want to come see your performance!
You are absolutely, out-of-this-fucking-world gorgeous.