Thursday, December 31, 2009

i don't want it even if it's free


once this girl told me that.

That night I was drunk, high and chemically happy and sauntered up to this redhead in a bar and said: Do you want to have intercourse with me?

I was dressed in tight jeans that showed off my (objectively) cute ass perfectly. My teeth had just been bleached to the hue of sugarcubes. I couldn't believe she didn't fall for my beauty and my bold come-on.

I have spent the evening picking on old scars. On my body. On my soul.

Once someone called me a bad kisser. Another time someone called me a bad friend. Somehow it was worse being called a bad kisser.

I think something is wrong with me.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Psychotic note


This (ex) friend of mine sent me this psychotic note/holiday greeting. Girlfriend needs help, don't you think?


Hi

Happy New Year! I have attached some pictured on my house, my pet-rabbit Holly and a Christmas band that we enjoyed on Christmas Eve and were brought by my sister-in-law Patricia.

I have been celebrating Christmas with my family. First I went to my parent’s house on the 23. On the 24th we started the day with breakfast together with my brother Mark's family (wife Susanne and the 2 kids Emilia 12 years and Ida 7 years). This has become a lovely tradition and we also share Christmas gifts. After they left we went out for a walk. The weather was perfect with loads of snow and sunshine. It was long since we had such lovely Christmas weather. In the afternoon my brother Robert and Aunt Elise came by and we ate dinner together. Robert's partner Patricia came later and we played some card games and ate a light dinner together. On the 25th the weather had changed and as we expected a lot of snow I took off fairly early and had dinner together with John. On the 27th my family came over and we had lovely time together. It is great fun to be able to house them all at the same time and also have some space for the children to play on. Also, I live only 40 min drive from Cleveland where they all are living.

All the best from me!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Ho Ho Ho


I wonder what Santa will bring me this year?
Another self-help book perhaps? On home-kit colon cleansing?
A white Christmas courtesy Cocaine?
Another box of cheap pralines from Wal-Mart from my Trailer Trash aunt?

A drunken night with daddy?

Ho Ho Ho!

Thursday, December 17, 2009

So daddy is utterly narcissistic



So daddy is utterly narcissistic, and loves to put me down, in not so subtle ways: You look fat today, Kim. You have a giant zit in on your chin (Hey asshole, thanks for stating the obvious). He also has dragon's breath. How do you tell someone that?
But as fucked up and horrible as he is, he does give me money. He did help me with homework while I was still in school. He did (try to) comfort me during bouts of recurring nightmares involving transvestite serial killers with staple guns. He did take me to the hospital when I fell off my tricycle and dislocated my shoulder, and later, when I almost pulled a Jimi Hendrix and choked on my own vomit.
My mom on the other hand, decided that I was a curse. The breast-feeding was deforming and exhausting her. The diaper-changing was just plain shitty. She had gotten hideous stretch marks she'd never recover from. And surely, she was fed up with douchebag daddy. One day she drove off, into the sunset like a cowboy. She sent two postcards. I still have them. One was from Atlantic City, New Jersey and the other one from Hawaii. Generic greetings. No: I love you. Nothing.
But still, I really don't hold it against her. I probably would have done the same thing.

P.S Hey, follow my blog. It would make me happy.

XXX, Kim

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

... and then the pills wore off


and when she woke up we did it again. and again. her lips like a plush sofa i wanted to make myself comfortable in. our limbs so tangled up i couldn't feel where i ended and she begun.

and then the pills wore off and the last of the booze left our bodies. it got a bit weird. she said: I am not usually like this.
what are you usually like, I asked her.
She said that she has a boyfriend.

and as always; it's the bisexual bitches that are the worst. the ones just experimenting, not til-death-do-us-part-committed to the puss.

she said she would call. and i really felt like a girl. a dumb girl (worth nothing but despise and fat free rice-crackers) hanging on to a flea-sized hope.

I took Tommy, my neighbor's miniature pinscher out for a walk. We caught the sun setting into the ocean.

I do like looking into the eyes of a dog taking a shit.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Religious Night on the town


Last night I went out cruising (stalking), ended up doing a little hiking too, before I parked my skinny ass at one of Red Lion's bar stool. I was wearing hot-pink crocs, a sweat-stained tank top, ill-fitting jeans and a jacket from Forever 21 (it has been washed more than once, so naturally it had lost its shape completely and resembled a pillow-case more than anything). The bag I carried was a classic and classy Third World bag in red (see the above picture).

And you know what, fashion douchebags?! I got laid. By one of the stunning bartenders. She was dressed as the St.Pauli girl, big boobies spilling over low-cut frilly blouse. She's enjoying her post-coital beauty sleep next to me as I'm typing this.

And Berlusconi was punched in the face. What a great night all in all.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

perspective; out of the hole


First, fucking the pain away really does work. Try it! (there's nothing like a hot and horny girl between your thighs. She doesn't have to be the love of your life, just into the moment.

Second, it's definitely necessary to put things into perspective. I did this by seeing an old friend yesterday. One that I hadn't seen in ages and only kept in touch with via FB. She looked good in her pictures. But she's also very skilled in photoshop.
The first thing she told me when I came to her door was: I am not pretty anymore.
I couldn't say anything. This former blond beauty was now 50 lbs heavier than last time I saw her. Her fingers were yellow from smoking crack. Her hair looked like steel wool and her teeth had started to rot in her mouth. She fell into a K-hole and by the looks of it, it's gonna be a long time before she crawls out.

Sunday, December 6, 2009

shit weather


shit city
shit life
shit girl
shit scrambled eggs.

not ever coming here again. the juice is watery and the eggs are rubbery and the cute waitress is not around

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

cold girl cold heart


i ate a curry wurst and drank some glühwein. children high on cotton candy ran like squirrels between my legs.

i could tell it was cold but I couldn't feel it. whatever pills dealer-dieter gave me yesterday are working their magic, making me numb like a junkie.

where am i, and where the hell am i going?

duh, i am in berlin heading back to Los Angeles; my hometown of pearly white smiles that never reach the eyes.

these pills do something to my guts. i gotta go potty ... AGAIN!

Monday, November 30, 2009

auf wiedersehen, Berlin!


sorry about my absence, but I've been to busy teaching myself how to hypnotize, how to cook a tasty meal and all about black magic.

the only thing I didn't try was baking a cake containing my period blood and feeding it to my lost love.

she probably would have refused anyway. she will have nothing to do with me.

the allure of this city is fading. this morning the sky looked like acid wash jeans. i think it's time to leave. back to dad and his patchouli stank and hurtful remarks.

Thursday, November 26, 2009

menopause at 20

is it possible? these hormons of mine i want nothing to do with them. they wreck havoc on my psyche. this carbonated being-in-love-feeling turned into a rage so black i was blinded. julia showed off her underwear at this party, and i turned into a jealous brute. i am not like this, I swear. I put my fist through a wall, plaster splinters flying and blood on my knuckles. julia was naturally disgusted.
she said: it's over.

before it even begun.

i wandered the whole night, feeling so lost until this gypsy lady saved me on a bridge with her accordion.

now i am conjuring a plan to get Julia back.

Monday, November 23, 2009

do you have a king? no, but we had hitler


even though the germans indeed are very german i am liking it here a lot. they say it's like paris in the 20's, NY in the 80's. enjoy the crumbly buildings, doused in graffiti, smeared in dog shit. the witch-looking lady yelling at you for breaking the law, i.e, crossing the street on foot before the light turned green.

last night i caught up with matt r, a buddy from New Orleans that was here on tour with a band from Omaha, Nebraska, called The Box Elders. I think I fell in love with the drummer. But then I also fell in love with Julia, a raven-haired German girl who stood close to be and engulfed me in her cotton-candy breath.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Berlin



hertha told me; it rains a lot here. last night I was jetlagged and woozy as we got caught in the rain on our bicycles. dizzily we cruised down Karl-Marx Allee, taking in the imposing Stalinist architecture and then, having cocktails at Café Moskva. The bartender was fat and bored. Then onto White Trash where we made out in the underground bathroom stall while Lust for Life blared from the speakers.

We attempted to fuck in her bedroom but all our limbs went limp and we passed out. This morning as I watched her sleep with an open mouth, I thought; could I be falling in love? And I started to plan our life together here in Berlin until she farted and my feelings evaporated.

Friday, November 13, 2009

therapy, travel and tramadol


i went to the cemetery today. it's certainly not pere lachaise. not even minus the pathetic jim m-fans. but still, it's one of my favorite spots in this smog barrel of a town.

i left a sunflower bouquet on my mother's grave. then i sat down, cross-legged in the grass, and tried really hard to feel her spirit. i felt nothing but an unexplored part of the grayscale descending on me.

I've felt really lonely and I have masturbated a lot. So much in fact, that it's starting to bore me. I need triple action: therapy, travel and tramadol.

Off to Berlin on Sunday. Now I'll go cruising down Mullholland Drive.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

stoned and touchy-feely


there's only one thing that's worse than dad being unkind and insensitive. And that is when he's stoned and touchy-feely. the night before last he pulled my bra-strap so it snapped against my back. it echoed like an M-16 in my head. when I turned around he pulled me in for a hug and started talking about a cake I had baked, like three years ago. his one hand was like a windshield wiper on my back. i was terrified that his hand would slide down, as if by accident.

i got my passport. i am buying a ticket to Berlin in the next few days.

was supposed to go to a house party with s, but she stood me up. that hurt, and not at all in proportion.

Monday, November 9, 2009

i had this friend


she was a good friend, a fun girl. a bitch you could drink jägermeister with until sunshine was ripping into the sky again. she was a fearless, unstoppable redhead who would stagedive head first at all ages shows.

she took pride in having the nastiest farts. she used to float down the river on pieces of styrofoam, giant mushrooms in her potbelly.

now she's a blonde. in love. she forgives her man any sin he's ever committed. she's like my dead mother.

she's demure. hides her sexy overbite behind her hand whenever she feels the need to smile. which isn't often anymore.

she's on a permanent diet. he thinks she's too thick. i think he's too thick. and now she is too, by default. for putting up with this low-life loser.

Friday, November 6, 2009

You give women a bad name!!


You are needy. You let men step on you. Hell, you let them beat you black and blue. You love them anyway. And turning the other cheek is what you do. Where's your fist girl? WHERE'S YOUR FIST?!?

Monday, November 2, 2009

i should count beads and wishes


when you are young, you should be able to bounce back like a rubber band. you shouldn't have wrinkles on your cheeks and big garbage bags underneath bloodshot eyes two damn days after a night of debauchery
my body is achy all over. even my toes hurt. i should check into an ashram.

i should count beads and wishes.

I don't want to shit corn. And I don't want to have warts on my pussy.
my bodily urges are leading me down the wrong path.

dad was here earlier. he is the expert at stating the obvious: you look like shit.

halloween was a blast though. met a Norwegian black metal band. They didn't need no damn costumes, but blended in just fine.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

You know you need it: Halloween inspiration


I know I should be thinking about my Halloween costume. But I am not. I don't give a fuck right now. I guess I'll join the ranks of MJs. Last night I was hell-bent on hooking up and I managed to do so. With a guy. This is what shots of tequila will do to you. Cute boy I thought, had he only been a little Indian. He kissed me hard in the parking lot.
And then in the morning, after a night of hovering in those black holes that swallow all materia, well, really only an hour ago, as I nearly choked on his morning breath, while being poked by his morning hard-on, he told me; Uh, maybe we should use a condom, I've had genital warts.
No, maybe you should get the fuck out!
Am I going to get warts down there now?
I am never drinking again. And this time I mean it. Not until Halloween. Promise.

Until then, I leave you with the best Halloween costume ever, except these were some rad bitches I ran into on Mardi Gras day in N'awlins: Ghetto Marie Antoinettes

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Isn't it grand to be independently wealthy?


So guess what? I am in Arcata, Humboldt County, smoking the kind bud with some hippies. Can't say I love white boys with dreadlocks and sandals, but this shit is good. They also have a sad peacock in the backyard. It comes at dusk, to hang out in the tree and mourn lost love by singing its heart out.
The bird may be my soulmate. I came here to mourn lost love. And of course, to devise a plan to find new love or to rekindle the old love.
I took a walk through the redwood forest today and that made me feel insignificant. In a good way. I am just a speck of dirt on this earth.

I wanna head back tomorrow though, and paint the town red. Starting at Little Joy. At least I should be able to find somebody with whom I can fuck the pain away.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Isn't Perez H just a mean fat Fa**ot who hates women who like sex?


Hasn't Brad P started to look like an old man? Isn't Perez H just a mean fat Fa**ot who hates women who like sex?
Isn't fashion overrated? I'd like to live in a land where everyone wears unisex jumpsuits.
I dream about Utopia. This is what red wine does to me. That and blue teeth.
I drunk dialed HER last night. It was bad. She said something about another girl. Then I smashed my cellphone into pieces. Haha, just an excuse to buy an iphone. Cuz I'm a sucker too.

I think I'll go for a drive. Everything feels better when I am on my way. Even if the road leads to hell.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

A day on the beach with S.



We drove north. i wanted to reach Big Sur, but there was no time. never time. Always no time. Highway 1.
Hot day. Hot girl in my car. But her hands are always so cold. And she flinches when I try to touch her. And we are not talking sexual advances here. No undertones. No undertow.

I had made nice vegan sandwiches. Of course she didn't eat. I am still in a strangely dark mood. It almost feels chemical. Maybe those pills did a number on my system?

We talked. About her mother and about Sweden. All the things she left behind. And all the things we have to look forward to. We both agreed; it's not much.

Still a perfect day.

I don't know what I am still doing up at 5.

Friday, October 23, 2009

cotton-candy girl in a cruel world



can you believe this? I am staying in tonight again. I did buy some yarn today. So I guess I am serious about this knitting thing. Plus I am planning on going to Berlin soon and I hear it's colder than a witch's tit there.

Dad is gone. Selling vacuum-cleaners or hydroponic weed, who knows, who cares? I hate when he shows up here, in full-on dad-mode. He's never molested me, but he is a molester. In his black heart.

Tomorrow I am going to the beach with S. Something to look forward to.

Tonight I am considering my options. And let me tell you: The future looks so bright, I gotta wear shades.

I could become:

A crackhead

Seller of cotton-candy at a Freakshow

Shampoo-girl in the Valley (at least I can spend my days making shampoo horns)

Suicidal

Hindu

I'm going to find a beginner's pattern for my knitting project. Any advice? L? Anyone?!?!

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

My friend made out with that guy from Arcade Fire


I picked a bad night to stay home. Dad decided to come over. He's in the bathroom meditating. He's been doing the TM thing for as long as I can remember, but he's still an asshole. No golden light shining through him. I guess you're doomed if you have a black heart.
He told me I looked like I had put on weight.
(yeah, fuck you, I like corn dogs and that's none of your business)
And then he told me I had a zit on my chin. Like I wasn't already über-aware of that stop light and like that stop-light wasn't part of my decision to stay home, under the same roof as that asshole.
He said he would cook for me. Eh, thanks but no thanks. I've had enough soggy tofu casserole to last me a lifetime.
And before I had a chance to shut it out, he'd told me that him and Mag the Hag (one of his many incredibly lame lovers) had practiced sex sans ejaculation and that he felt the Oneness.

Terri called and went on and on about how she'd made out with one of the Arcade Fire members.
While she did that I was feeling up that giant stoplight zit, caressing and squeezing it.

I'll tell you all about how damn easy it is to be a groupie. You don't even have to be cute. Next time.

Over and out, peeps!

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

not E, not cool


That was definitely not E. For all i know it was Viagra mixed with rat poison mixed with heroin. We were downtown at someone's recording studio when the fuzzy glow halo started hovering above my head. The room bathed in soft pink hues and then some transvestite that hadn't shaved her legs properly (wiry black hairs coming out through the fishnets) , handed me a bottle of champagne. I took a swig and felt the bubbles travel down to my gut and make a U-turn. I was cool like strawberry ice cream, and got up from the couch and zigzagged down the hallway. Bathroom occupied. I hurried down the stairs, my mouth filled with puke, and there on the street, next to a ridiculously large SUV, one that J surely would have keyed had she been drunk, and had she there -- I projectile-puked. There was a fountain of corn, banana mush and champagne but doing it felt like drinking coca-cola.
And during the night I threw up again and again. And it felt pretty nice. My body was like a sack of blood and guts but my brain was clear and pain-free like seltzer.
I didn't try to fuck the pain away. My libido has been strangely absent. Perhaps I should take up knitting?
And then, I AM embarrassed to write this, I drove home.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

My damn cousin has been touched by the hand of God and that hand fist-fucked her.


there's a lot happening. and it's mostly bad stuff. my intestines are tangled up in clumsy knots that grind and trash at my belly lining. I chase my vodka down with Pepto-bismol. S is starving herself and somehow in her nutrient-deprived brain she thinks it's good, what she's doing. I can't talk sense into her, she just says that I am the one who's fucked up and polluted. At least you can't use my ribs as a goddamn xylophone. When I first met S I had a crush on her. The way she closed her eyes when she smiled just made my whole body feel carbonated.

My damn cousin has been touched by the hand of God and that hand fist-fucked her.

My dad hates me and I hate him. He's a fucking scumbag Scientologist Casanova loser.

And she says I must finally terminally understand that she doesn't love me.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Bakersfield, CA or NO SEX DRIVE=NO PROBLEM!


I have this cousin in Bakersfield, California. Her father was a preacher man that the good lord brought to heaven early. Perhaps to reward him for all the times he got wasted on moonshine in the shed out back and spanked his daughter with that belt he surely had bought in Tijuana, while he was there fucking hookers.
My cousin, L, is 21 now, and she's saving herself for her own personal prince. Maybe another preacher man with a stiff leather belt from Tijuana? She wears cheap Target sweaters in pastel colors and patent leather flats. She enjoys bible studies. And still, because we sometimes played as kids, she considers me her best friend. No one listens like you do, Kim. That makes me feel like drinking a tax-free size bottle of Vodka and float into oblivion.

Lately, she's been on anti-depressives. They give her a lot of anxiety and sexual thoughts. Or so she says. I thought they were supposed to do the opposite. No sex drive=no problems
She goes to a Christian College and told me she's had dirty thoughts about one of her teachers. She says she closes her eyes and sees herself grinding herself against his corduroy pants over and over.
Her mother hasn't left the bedroom in years. The curtains are always drawn and homo-erotic jesus pictures are plastered all over the walls. She doesn't understand, of course. She probably swallows a sack of pills every day. Poor L does everything around the house. And it is only because I feel sorry for her that I will drive through the burnt-out land to hold her hand and tell her it's alright to fantasize about dry-humping your teacher.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

now it's cozy


no, NOW it's cozy ... no, now it's cozy. when I buy that new rug it will be cozy.

went to see S at the coffee shop today. she seems to be thinking: just one more pound to shed and i will be pretty.

but tomorrow never comes.

S, if you read this, you need some In-n-Out in your life.

Friday, October 9, 2009

sexy clowns


Tucson is kind of cool. Too bad people here are so ugly. It must be the the dry air. JT is only 22, but she looks like 35. It's not a good thing, but she's still kind of hot. The thoughts I had had earlier, about seducing her, where destroyed at dinner. Refried beans and green chili sauce did something unkind to my system and I have been bloated ever since.
We went over to one of JT's friends. He lived in the ghetto of Tucson. Lots of lowriders and Mexican thug boys. He was one of those gay boys that thinks he's straight. But worst of all, his whole house was covered in clowns. We were drinking wine out of clown cups, sitting on a sofa with clown pillows behind our backs. In the bathroom there was a clown soap dispenser, and on the porch an inflatable Ronald McDonald (who has given me multiple nightmares) was tied up with a string around his neck. Worst of all, in the kitchen, a painting of a clown performing oral sex on a raven-haired girl, hung above the kitchen table.

I would have freaked if I was alone at that Sicko's house. Don't understand why JT is friends with him. She must be terribly lonely.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

I did the lonely-girl-at-the-bar-thing


i could stay here, i love how quiet it is. but i have to go home. tomorrow i will drive to Tucson to visit JT. She's a total basketcase. Her closet is filled with skulls and bones and her relationship to her dead mother's horses is the only thing in her life that's sexual. She's not my type but maybe I'll get her drunk and do her, just as a favor.
I did the lonely-girl-at-the-bar today and some guy in a cowboy hat the size of one of Saturn's rings sat down next to me and bought me a Lone Star and started chatting me up. His teeth looked really sharp and he frightened me. When I said I had to go, he claimed to be more than happy to escort me home. I noticed that both his pinkie finger nails were long. I said I would be alright and left the cute indie rock Mexican bartender boy $20 for two beers.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

They do have Prada


in the desert. No tumbleweeds though.

But the sky was like a baby blue blanket. And I drove deeper and deeper into the desert and deeper and deeper into my mind.

Randomly, at this café, I met this older couple that said I could spend the night in their guesthouse. I looked real hard at the guy to figure out if he was a creep or not. But I saw no signs of it. And the guesthouse is amazing. They said it used to be a chicken coop, but now they've turned it into a southwestern-style dollhouse.
When I had washed the desert dust off my face I sat outside on a chair reading when they both came and joined me, and offered me an O'Douls. They told me that they were both recovering alcoholics and how they had spent half their lives running from themselves. And then they ran into each other and live happily ever after and everything was peachy.
They are total dorks, but sweet. The woman, Betsy, fed me pound cake, and told me that every other month she went to El Paso to have a botox injection in her forehead. What a waste, I wanted to say, but didn't. Her face was chubby, ordinary and criss-crossed with fine lines of time. Her eyes were baby blue like the sky.

Then I drove out into the night. The sky was an unexplored part of the greyscale. I went to see the Marfa Mystery lights.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


last time i was in Austin we ate pulled pork sandwiches at Whole Food's roof terrace. but now J doesn't wanna support the bastards. I want to, but I am unable to care about things like that.
instead, we ate at some dirt cheap Mexican place in East Austin. I want soap, perfume and shampoo made out of cilantro.

we went swimming at Barton Springs. the water chocked me into a sharp consciousness. afterwards J gave me acupuncture. I had needles in my ear and down my legs and was floating away on something that felt like a soft orgasm.
j asked me later, when we had tea in her parlor, if I thought of myself as a happy person.
I said: I am not sure anymore.
Not when I drink until I wake up with puke in my hair. Because that means I could just as well not have woken up at all.
but here in Austin, i haven't really been drinking. Just a couple of margaritas yesterday and today. And that makes people seem strange. When I am the stranger.
Anyway, j is asleep already. i wonder why she's my friend?
u have a long trip ahead of me tomorrow. LA-bound.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Daddy's Dollars


so tonight I slept in a squat. At least that's what I think it was. I am in another universe and I have a blowdryer in my mouth and a tampon soaked in vodka up my ass. Last night, I couldn't stop staring at this hideous creature that sadly enough seemed to be a lady. She had stringy green hair that looked like cheap yarn and horribly fuzzy sailor tattoos splattered across her arms and her face. I stared and stared until she demanded I buy her a drink. It's a fee you owe me for staring, she said. So I bought her a PBR and a shot and she told me her name was Claire. What do you do, Claire? I asked. This was before all the words came out drenched in syrup. I am a dancer, she said. I stared at her in disbelief. You mean a stripper? I asked and probably did a terrible job hiding my repulsion, because she said it looked good on me. Then she also said she could eat fire with her pussy. At least that's what I thought she said. Right then it had gotten really loud (some Metal band) and all the pills I had taken at P's house started doing silly things to my head. We were, once again, in some dive on St. Claude.
You haven't seen bad neighborhoods if you haven't been to N'awlins.
P ditched me to have drunken fights with her boyfriend. I danced with an alluring creature in baseballs pants that later tried to choke me with a limp tongue.
And then I woke up on Claire's floor. She was passed out on a mattress with a 250 pound clown while that Almodovar flick, All about my mother, was playing on the TV. It felt like I was trapped in an art installation.
I had to get out of there fast, back to the Cornstalk that daddy's dollars paid for. Daddy who said I deserved to get ass-raped.
And now I am in East Texas, on my way to Austin to see J who studies there. I hope she has nice activities planned.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

It's a bowl and it's going to fill up

Haven't been back here since the days of Katrina – that wretched bitch. I remember the rude awakening after a coke-bender with Frankie. Waking up with black licorice vodka puke in your hair is not funny, nor is it cute. The air outside his air-conditioned sanctuary felt as if someone had shoved a blow dryer into my mouth. There were unknown chunks of recycled food stuff stuck in my teeth and to the roof of my mouth. On the radio the mayor kept on saying over and over: This city is a bowl and it's going to fill up.
We hitched a ride with some drunken lunatics, on the back of a baby-blue pick-up truck. We didn't know where to go, but couldn't go west so we drove north. And ended up, twelve hours later, at some crowded motel in Mississippi. Crying kids and trailer trash hussies with dollar bills underneath their well-worn bra straps.
I remember it feeling weird that people weren't staring at me.
The storm came our way in the morning. By then the sheer force had been matted by all the oak trees and people it had run into. The winds were still strong and unpredictable, throwing sheets of rusty metal and young trees into the street as we were headed for Dallas.
I hurt from letting Frankie fuck me that night. That sex felt more like exercise than anything else.
Back in 2005 what the fuck did I know?
And now, the air is still sticky. And I keep getting fucked up.
But last night I was so overcome by sadness. Too bad. It was a really cool bar in a sketchy neighborhood. There was talk of drive-by shootings.
Met up with R and O. They are still here.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Bourbon Street

there's been tropical rain and hurricanes. friends don't let friends blog drunk, but since i don't have any friends to stop me right now, i am doing it anyhow.
checked into the Cornstalk hotel, blowing daddy's money. it's nicer from the outside. inside it's like a funhouse, with leaning floors and a faint mold smell. probably vampires in the attic.
i was in some whorehouse looking bar, off Bourbon Street when this girl said she'd give me a new wave haircut for $5. she was dressed in rags. well, boho chic or something. but she had beautiful almond shaped eyes, and a creamy dark smooth voice, so of course i said: yes, do with me as you like. i have bald spots now. cab you believe i still bought her a shot while fantasizing about molesting her?
in some dingy-ass sandwich shop i got a so-called po'boy called "disco." it had slimy shrimps swimming in mayo on it. and then, in a dimly lit alleyway, the kind you get mugged in, i thought i saw a leprechaun slinking away.

I also encountered these lovely ladies. I would have suggested something if I wasn't so damn wasted and cross-eyed from three Hurricanes.

this is so intense


first time I heard about it, I just knew I had to come here. who are the people behind this? it's a true American mystery and i love mysteries. and david lynch. when there's a riddle to ponder I feel so alive.
but too soon I'll be dead. and that's a thought i am only able to shake when my heart is bloody pulp. only heartache cures existential anxiety.

maintain population under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.

guide reproduction wisely – improving fitness and diversity


be not a cancer on earth – leave room for nature – leave room for nature.

i guess me, myself and I in one huge-ass gas guzzler is a cancer on earth

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Shoney's makes me think about dying

and how it wouldn't be so bad after all. Somewhere in Virginia I stopped. I had been cruising through strip mall hell for hours. The sky looked like it was slashed and bleeding. And I was hungry and seriously (what the fuck was I thinking?!?) thought it would be "hilarious" to eat at a Shoney's. Anyone that can make King Crab legs taste nothing and evaporate on your tongue should be pumped full of lead.
And not a cute human being in sight. Just the saddest, fattest people in America had all congregated here to celebrate or just feed the hole in their hearts.
The wall paper was so bland I can't possibly describe what it looked like. It was just a hologram of nothingness. And the staff with the service smiles and ugly polyester humiliation outfits. I barfed King Crab legs under hideous fluorescent lights, that – after a brief stint in my stomach – looked like q-tips.
Now I am at a Best Western down the road and there's a crackhead couple fighting next door. I feel so sad suddenly.
It's probably just a chemical mess.
I'm gonna watch TV.

Over and out.

Monday, September 28, 2009

oh, i found this in my temporary bed yesterday morning


and i wish, wish fucking wish i could have been more excited about it. he was truly gorgeous, but alas, he was (a) he. chemically on another planet, but smooth pale skin stretching over bones so perfectly put together one almost had to start believing in god. he offered me some of his stuff. i don't think he knew what to make of me, but i don't think he cared.
we were at Santo's dancing our asses off. just me and him. don't really remember, but i think it was on the L-train from brooklyn we first started talking. he was giving some change to a gutterpunk on bedford ave and i told him what a waste.
i mean, gutterpunks can do their thing, i don't care. but i would never ever give them money. and I am not down with the dirty thing. in fact, there's hardly anything (except her) that I love more than soap, shampoo and bubble baths.

was on the guest list at Santo's. Darcy tended bar and she always hooks me up.

almost looks like


her. I am not sure that she wouldn't be totally pissed if I wrote her name out. But this is kind of what she looks like. Except hotter. Way hotter. I love the way her collarbones jut out and the way her shoulders are like wings. She's always ready for take-off.
Ever since she found out what was in my pants, she keeps giving me the silent treatment. But I am NOT giving up. The kiss, the caress. The soft-cornered make-out session in the way too brightly lit MaxFish on Ludlow St. We'd been drinking Jägermeister of all things.
I'm gonna chase her coast to coast.
I don't care if she thinks I am not a real woman. At least I am not some bisexual bitch that's gonna rip her a new asshole in her fucking heart.

I am off now. Into rolling hills and out onto wide-open roads that will take me