(no subject)
the past couple days have really been somethin strange.
in new york i went to see the bodies exhibition. They are real human bodies with plasticized muscles and tendons, torn apart in every way possible, showing organs, bones, vein and artery systems...how everything is put together. we are really strange fleshy machines. it would be really strange if we were left without facial expression. we would really look like the scariest robots youve ever seen.
i didnt get any sleep any night. i partied and drank and smoked pot. i even took mushrooms one day. i felt tired and sick and drooped. on 420 i smoked two blunts at my waking hour. David gerson and i went to a terrible biennial art show at the whitney, with this kid i havent seen since i was 9 years old at farm camp.
i didnt make any plans to stay with anyone upon arriving in providence rhode island. i just needed to pick up a box that my mom sent to my "lover", sam. i stumbled into a photography show, and sam was standing with his back to me with long hair surrounding a bald spot, and a pastel striped female art teachers shirt.
he is on drugs and was stoned (420) and his face was puffy and his eyes were barely open.
i got in a funk funk fuuunk after seeing him. i was listening to the tape of colombian music that Alejandro the gaucho gave me and singing really quite loud. i pulled out my wallet. my phone fell out of my back and shattered on the ground.
i didnt have a place to stay and didnt have a number to call. then my headphones somehow snapped in half.
i went and sat in a splotchy spot of dried piss in some underpass where there were a whole bunch of 9/11 memorial tiles making it colorful. a woman came by and sat down next to me. she was homeless and her name was lowis. she was slugging down vodka, and on her way to detox. i sang to her for half an hour. i believe that is the first time i have sang in front of anyone since 7th grade in girls chorus. she started crying
then i found this kid, ben, to stay with. he had another friend named abby who was loud and abnoxious and the whole night complained about boring shit, wantin to meet guys, and then pretended to be a little indian boy until she had to go take a shit. shes got IBS (irritated bowel syndrom) to baddd.
i checked my email to my mom screaming at me for not calling. she signed her email "PISSED IN SAN FRANCISCO"
shut the FUCK up.
i dont know where ill sleep tonight. the sportsmens in owes me a night, but that place has cocroaches and prostitutes. and sadness.
i feel really weird. but dont worry, honest. im about to go make cheese and clogs.
in new york i went to see the bodies exhibition. They are real human bodies with plasticized muscles and tendons, torn apart in every way possible, showing organs, bones, vein and artery systems...how everything is put together. we are really strange fleshy machines. it would be really strange if we were left without facial expression. we would really look like the scariest robots youve ever seen.
i didnt get any sleep any night. i partied and drank and smoked pot. i even took mushrooms one day. i felt tired and sick and drooped. on 420 i smoked two blunts at my waking hour. David gerson and i went to a terrible biennial art show at the whitney, with this kid i havent seen since i was 9 years old at farm camp.
i didnt make any plans to stay with anyone upon arriving in providence rhode island. i just needed to pick up a box that my mom sent to my "lover", sam. i stumbled into a photography show, and sam was standing with his back to me with long hair surrounding a bald spot, and a pastel striped female art teachers shirt.
he is on drugs and was stoned (420) and his face was puffy and his eyes were barely open.
i got in a funk funk fuuunk after seeing him. i was listening to the tape of colombian music that Alejandro the gaucho gave me and singing really quite loud. i pulled out my wallet. my phone fell out of my back and shattered on the ground.
i didnt have a place to stay and didnt have a number to call. then my headphones somehow snapped in half.
i went and sat in a splotchy spot of dried piss in some underpass where there were a whole bunch of 9/11 memorial tiles making it colorful. a woman came by and sat down next to me. she was homeless and her name was lowis. she was slugging down vodka, and on her way to detox. i sang to her for half an hour. i believe that is the first time i have sang in front of anyone since 7th grade in girls chorus. she started crying
then i found this kid, ben, to stay with. he had another friend named abby who was loud and abnoxious and the whole night complained about boring shit, wantin to meet guys, and then pretended to be a little indian boy until she had to go take a shit. shes got IBS (irritated bowel syndrom) to baddd.
i checked my email to my mom screaming at me for not calling. she signed her email "PISSED IN SAN FRANCISCO"
shut the FUCK up.
i dont know where ill sleep tonight. the sportsmens in owes me a night, but that place has cocroaches and prostitutes. and sadness.
i feel really weird. but dont worry, honest. im about to go make cheese and clogs.