fill the shotglass and she's had too many...cuz baby girl's a queen
I don't know what to say. So much has been going on and it's so crazy. My little sister ODed on cough syrup so I'm here tonight staying with her. The amount of anxiety I have about sleeping alone is insane, so I'm not going to sleep alone, I'm going to lay down with my little Pisces sister and sleep next to her. My pregnancy test was negative. I still haven't bled, and the second full moon is approaching quickly. I have my paperjournal here, and I wanted to start 'working', making scans to show you all, but nothing is happening. I just stare at all my words and can't seem to copy any of it. It seems like it would be an act of treason, to post my paperjournal words here. My other little sister is staying the night here as well, and I have a feeling we will all stay up all night just talking, reading, smoking cigarettes. Everyone has missions for tomorrow, except for me, who's mission is to keep trying to find work. I've had interviews, nothing pans out. A photographer is offering me 1K to do artistic nudes. Shit, what we could do with a K?! I don't know. I haven't made any serious commitments to anything, but I'm kind of on the desperate end, right now.
From my paperjournal.
That tape isn't going anywhere. I don't know what else to add to it. The lead ins and outs work well. GG Allin & Handsome Boy & all that.I want sex, but my lover is not relenting. Maybe he is, nevermind. Obama is coming. Tuesday he shall be my president and the tears come to my eyes when I think, 'I trust you.' I have no other choice. I cry reading all the papers about him. History, moments, My generation braces it's self for a tidal wave. I'm praying for rain, I'm praying for tidal waves. I want lover & I to walk off and look for America. We could. Once the weather warms. I want to travel from city to city, smoke cigarettes, read magazines, look at the scenery, take photographs. I tape photographs of women into my journal, stunningly gorgeous model women. White women. Women who look nothing like me. In their poses I look for my emotions, myself. I read PURPLEPROSE, globetrotting hipster trash, writers, bohemia, artists. People I want to be. People I want my friends to be. How do I get there? Work, and work of genius. I want to swing my hips, cry in telephone booths in Paris, I want to sneak across the border into Spain. I want to carry pendants of Saints on my neck, I want to change the world. I'm filled with it all. I will. I will work fucking hard. I want the world and I want it fucking now. When someone asks for my inspiration, what shall I tell them? Amanda Palmer, Anais Nin, mixtapes from old lovers, the moon, dreams, heroin, illness, dirty buisness, Sylvia Plath, Gang of Four, drinking, smoking, pills, letters, pictures, art, failure, the stars, sleep, saints, lust, street scenes, scoring, New Orleans, girl rock, modern languages, sexy songs, public transportation, inky pens, heavy bass, horoscopes, bicycle parties, whiskey kisses, running away, traveling long distances, getting lost, marital disputes, infidelity, sex, evil, self discovery, books, bathing rituals & my favourite clothes..
I don't want children to weigh me down. Children always weigh women down in ways they never will for men. I don't want them. I want to travel the world and do what I want without worrying about someone else's welfare. I am so selfish. Selfish selfish bitch.
I say this as my lover kisses my neck everywhere, my favourite place, my erotic feelings grow and he growls he wants to make me a mother and I laugh because never never, the kisses on my neck drive me crazy and I have to put this down, good night good night....
I cannot sleep without my lover and I'm weak in the knees thinking about the kisses and growls he left on my neck.
My mother says she will drive me back to the house if I can't handle it.
Am I that chicken?