rap rap rap rap
this city.
constant mindfuck.
sometimes the mindfuck is a toe-curling, muscle-cramping joy ride that gives birth to millions of little idea fetuses and then i have glorious purpose in my ninja shoes and i stomp the overly inflated hipster heads into the urine covered streets. and i sit on parks and go to the drama book shop and surround myself with the cast of assasins. i am not some dewy eyed, 21 year old young new yorker who is looking for her break but i am the girl who sits behind the table in the dark 6th floor room in soho where other people come in and tremble. and these people have overly inflated breasts and machismos. they enter with stacks of themselves in various black-and-white sexified poses that are supposed to let the director know that they are "brooding" and "hungry." their headshot eyes are creepy.
but other times the mind fuck is just hot and sweaty and leads to another beer. that is when i am pounding the pavement and those same ninja shoes are wet with perspiration and dirty water that puddles in the subway stations. i feel and old and young and sick and sad because once again summer does not consist of swimming pools and corn on the cob. the big trade off. birthday money goes into the roach infested apartment and bastard cat. i used to spend birthday money on clothes, cds and candy. now it goes to booze and the occasional sandwich.
not that i complain.
pavement pounding just takes some discipline and sexier clothes than i can afford at the moment. but i am working on it.
tonight i drown my sorrows in strawberry lemonade. tommorow i take over jessica simpsons empire.
thsi entry will be of the friends only crowd. much like my jacket.
constant mindfuck.
sometimes the mindfuck is a toe-curling, muscle-cramping joy ride that gives birth to millions of little idea fetuses and then i have glorious purpose in my ninja shoes and i stomp the overly inflated hipster heads into the urine covered streets. and i sit on parks and go to the drama book shop and surround myself with the cast of assasins. i am not some dewy eyed, 21 year old young new yorker who is looking for her break but i am the girl who sits behind the table in the dark 6th floor room in soho where other people come in and tremble. and these people have overly inflated breasts and machismos. they enter with stacks of themselves in various black-and-white sexified poses that are supposed to let the director know that they are "brooding" and "hungry." their headshot eyes are creepy.
but other times the mind fuck is just hot and sweaty and leads to another beer. that is when i am pounding the pavement and those same ninja shoes are wet with perspiration and dirty water that puddles in the subway stations. i feel and old and young and sick and sad because once again summer does not consist of swimming pools and corn on the cob. the big trade off. birthday money goes into the roach infested apartment and bastard cat. i used to spend birthday money on clothes, cds and candy. now it goes to booze and the occasional sandwich.
not that i complain.
pavement pounding just takes some discipline and sexier clothes than i can afford at the moment. but i am working on it.
tonight i drown my sorrows in strawberry lemonade. tommorow i take over jessica simpsons empire.
thsi entry will be of the friends only crowd. much like my jacket.