Friday, October 22, 2004

i will miss thy ability to make homeless piss smell just like hot dogs.

dear new york: see ya, biatch. you smell. bad.
dear doro: yo, i am coming to see you and your brother's wonderful wedding. but...i would also like to do this: kagaya, lawry's, paper bag princess, wasteland, giant robot, the nucleus show, a fabric store and your female weiner. the latterest being the most importantest.
dear marv: let us call a truce and make out.
dear doro's toilet: i feel a shitload of diarrhea arriving around midnight tonight. please make preparations.
p.s. doro: my cleaning lady killed your bamboo plant. i am now notifying you so you will not be sad or think i did it. however, i would take this as a sign that you belong in new york, if not for anything else, to love your plant.

Monday, October 18, 2004

i dream i rock. sometimes it comes true.

okay. so my ordinary dreams are like this:
i maniacally chop up village rapists at each joint in their body, wrap up each part in old clothes and throw them down the trash chute. everyone i know lives in an old abandoned 12 story factory, and my brother saves me from being convicted. we hide.
i am responsible for the recovery of possibly the world's last source of genuine artifacts of the female homemaker's race. they are being exploited and sold on the black market for their sensationalism instead of being properly exhibited in the whitney museum. once news breaks out that i am the said renegade ninjette, the sophisticates of the art world hate me for wishing to deface their exhibitions with questions of lisa turtle caliber: "what is art? is ART art? are WE art?" in the end, i am supported by several old hag oddballs and my aunt and mother. rock.
i reunite with two stupid bitches from high school. she says, did you get plastic surgery? you look great. i say, no, i DID hear rumors that YOU guys got some work done, but i don't believe it, you're still two fugly ass bitches. this is my favorite. simple and quipptic.

ps. mockshrine: i will shart in my LV dress and hotass shoes if you ask me real nice.
pps. doro: i'll show YOU sapphic.

Monday, October 11, 2004

it's monday and i'm a pheminist.

sometimes women are so stupid. so stupid i find myself constantly priding myself as a tomboy.
and sometimes men are so stupid. so stupid that i would never call myself one of the guys...just a bi-team player.
but today. today i am a woman. i am so woman today i wish they would spell "woman" with a PH, yo. silent act of creative literary coolness. that's right, phwomen: today i could rock any man ass in any challenge by any means necessary. and i owe it all to mtv, my bitches.
battle of the sexes, part two. episode one. hell hath no fury.

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

how to disappear completely

every girl wants to be saved.
no seriously...any girl who says she doesn't is full of shit. it's a loose term, 'saved.' but it's always there, and it's the greatest weapon of information a man can have; that is if you understand it's morphable application.
for me:
saved equals make me feel small but but still bigger than the whole world, disprove me on things i believe about people, i.e. rescue me from preconceptions, let me pretend that unicorns exist and rule, don't like the things i hate and hurt me, be non-judgemental, and forgive all the chips on my shoulder my mom presented me. laugh with me even when no one else is, let me blame my farts on you when in public. think my made up dances are best of show. be my responsible side without letting me feel taken care of...let me 'know' i've done it all on my own, save me from myself and invent temporary invisibility (at the same time disinvent the idea of better), for me.
make me a lesbian, and get me a hot, sensitive chick to bang. i like spanish ones.

Saturday, October 02, 2004

i need you so much closer...

you need to be so near, i can't look down...when i feel like it.
i'm an oddity. a childish one. i don't like to be bothered, but my heart cramps when i'm alone. so robots with personality, need apply. on, off. i am so selfish, but honest.
part deux:
what is it about offering advice that is so easy and listening to it that is so goddang hard? well, you're smarter than everyone else, atleast when it comes to yourself. it's terrificly defeating to think about, and awesomely annoying to admit, but i think it's the hardest thing to come to understand, and the most important thing to know and remember when you're reaching out, or when you're being reached for.
back to boy.
i am such a mean girl towards imperfection. but that's objectively subjective.