Primer

in the toilet, in the sink
in the tummy and in the Pink.

up your nose and up the junction,
down the basement with no good function.

be extra careful when you poke smot:
word is that pleasure gets them hot.

be really wise when you turn 30
cuz the word it out that stalkers are dirty.

they'll lock you up and throw away the key;
[some stalkers wear leather and PVC.]

they want your body and disengage
they suck your fluids, so turn the page.

they'll slip you a roofie and kill yer ma
they colonize crackwhores and open a spa.

they're straight and they're gay and they boast cheap thrills
[but none of them ever resemble mike mills.]

if you go to the city you might see 'em there,
with a samurai sword and a love for despair.

but if you're in country (not unlike me)
i slay one everythyme i sip juice, and pee.


---JLR ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, BITCH

instructional videos

not that i've ever been to scotland.

i've promised myself that i'd write a book. i promised myself that i'd write 2 books. i want to go back to cali at least once more before i die. and death is so close i can smell it burning, taste the tiny bones slice into my gums from the sardine, touch it with all these blazing cuts on my fingers, feel it on my cold, gummy tar-skin.

new paragraph.

if you're out there, you know me the best. you know how tempermental i am, and why i am writing about "i" all the time. i am a brain inside a cup, and right now i am taking over this girl's body a la Carrie meets Firestarter. stand back. WAY back. stop banging on the walls. i am a beast. and i will do whatever i can to stay alive.

my dreams were always full of airplane events. yay me. what good did i do anybody by dreaming about something before it happened. and i didn't even dream about the same crash, it was the one in africa or something. i'm sure i'm not the first person and i'm almost certain i'll definitely not be the last person either. i just want to live and teach and learn and dance on my skinny legs. and a whole bunch of other things.

i have a parrot, as you may know. her name is steevie and she's chirping at me right now from downstairs. stop banging on the walls.

"we weren't banging on the walls," he replied. "we were dancing."

oh, ok. well, if i can hear your vioce in my head, what's the use of speaking? what's the use of using my voice for anything, other than an audition, or singing a song using perfect pitch, or harmonizing (as in NOTA! hello? reunion??? instruments??? tour???? fun, fun fun.)

melodrama. there's always going to be that bitch out there who made sure you never made it into any of the drama club photographs in the yearbook.

"with your bright silver frown...you own the town...and i think i need a little poison."

i'm glad i won't be forgotten.

New Years

What I Learned About Life During My New Years' Celebration:

--"AIDS" is now humorous....? Uh...kids?
--I don't drink. I shouldn't drink. I guess I really shouldn't. Except for champagne.
--I don't even want to talk about pot with you. I'll listen, but I have nothing to say.
--My ex hurt me pretty badly.
--Adam and Connie are awesome. They listened when nobody else would.
--My mom apparently has a 'thing' for Nick Cave, too. Hm.
--Kittens are not evil. Not all of them, anyway.
--I MUST, MUST, MUST cut back on cigarettes before something bad happens!

flag

i'm being described as, "...cranky. Ever since you got back from your vacation."

i picked a bad day to quit free-basing.

no, seriously. i was thinking about cutting back on smoking cigarettes for the new year. it's not impossible but it's easier to smoke here than it is to not.

what's more important? a car or a home? how about a winnebago?? it would be for me and my friends.

sorry the sarcasm. (only half-sarcasm this time). my blood is boiling and it takes all the energy i have to be polite. i've researched gratitude up and down and will do it once again. i've marched around the neighborhood in this weather (below 30) and am still not chilled out in the least.

it would be easier, maybe, if i put on an apron and a head-cloth and had everybody call me "Weezy."

still easier, running from the law at 70 mph across state lines, looking for somebody who needs me around.

i'm so sorry i let you down. if you thought i'd be so great by now. at least i didn't go the ted kozinsky route. he went to harvard.

i know everybody else is busy trying to untangle their own lives, but please. i need a little bit of hope. i need to know i will be cared for if i were to go missing. or sick. or booted off the island. i work hard everyday, just to get out of the house.

i am sorry i am empty, and have nothing left to give right now.