Wednesday, April 28, 2010

I am afraid to think about things too much. I am afraid of people knowing my mind. I am afraid I will die without anyone having seen my Mick Jagger impression because I only do it in private, that no one will ever even know I do a Mick Jagger impression.

Who cares?

Sunday, April 18, 2010


I'm a little miffed. I was promised trauma. I was expecting psychological damage. I don't ask for those things from every movie I see. But look at that poster! That cat is horrifying! And the Emcee at the Castro told me I would be traumatized! I was thinking I wouldn't sleep tonight!  But even a scene with murderous blankets and mattresses will not keep me from my Z's.

I've never seen anything like House. It was funny and campy and mostly just weird. It featured my favorite special effect: the old animated lightening/electricity.

See it cause it's strange and has flying body parts. Don't bother if you're looking to be frightened.

I am very tired now.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010



I carry my bruises like badges. Though awarded for clumsiness—the careless, uncontrolled movement of my limbs—or the obliteration of my equilibrium, as they bloom on my body they grow in my mind.
It usually begins with an invisible pain. There is a deep ache when pressure is applied. Hours or days later they appear like the heads of jellyfish, pushing up to the surface of my skin in dreamy greens and purples. I forget their origin by the time they form, unless there is some clue in the injury itself. Brown, finger-shaped bruises once appeared on my biceps, a result of falling backwards in a pub in Ireland. People are going to laugh at me, I thought, sprawled on the floor which was sticky with spilt liquor. I should probably just stay down here. The guy I’d been talking to tried to haul me back on my feet but I resisted, letting my head loll back like an infant’s. When I finally consented, the fellow pinned me between the bar and himself. I held onto his pockets so I wouldn’t slide back down.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

and you will know me by the trail of bobby pins

Months from now, when you've almost forgotten me, you're going to find one of my bobby pins buried in the carpet. And you're going to say, "Goddamn that girl and her fucking bobby pins!"