(no subject)
Last night I went to Kevin's house. John read my palms and told me I will have a long life ending in a terrible sickness and that no one will ever be very jealous of me. We invented the new genre ghost-punk as well as an indian tribe. John wore one of my red gloves claiming that it kept him warm and he put my coat on for me to encourage me to go outside and share cigarettes as if they were joints. I would say it was a really good time. On the way to the train station I met Michael, a chef raised in the Virgin Islands, who just wanted to get his beer out of the bushes and prove "not all black is bad".
Last night I dreamed I had a conversation with my english teacher about how drinking heavily is the only way to get a good deep night of sleep. It was a real melancholy conversation. We were at a restaurant and we had rented part of it to have christmas and I saw a man at another table on a romantic date with a bit of fire on the edge of his suit. A few minutes later the man burst into flames and i did not feel guilty for not telling anyone he had that little spot of fire. Everyone went into a panic and left, abandoning me with our christmas tree and gifts which i just couldn't leave. The man was put out or dragged out or something and I was just all alone with this goddam holiday disaster not feeling a smidge of guilt or anything really. I get all robotic like that sometimes. A lot of people say they could never kill a man, but I know if I was in a situation and needed to, I just could.
all the pictures were taken with my shitty pinhole camera which is literally just a wooden box with a wooden shutter on a screw and a piece of black cardboard with a teeny tiny hole in it.