(no subject)
when you get an abortion, all you can feel is the baby inside of you, clawing to stay in. forget pain, the metal against the inside of your thighs, the mask over the doctor's mouth, the flickering lens of his spectacles, forget it. clawing. and when he pulls off his mask to smile at you, all you can see are teeth.
working in hotels isn't so bad, at least sofia didn't think so. when you worked down on the lower floors, and you got the rooms with the two parents, maybe one or two kids, the good type of room. left a good tip, left a pretty clean room, sometimes even made the beds themselves. she felt bad for people like carlos; he cleaned the executive suites. he had told her once that someday, when he made enough money to stop working, he would write a book about the shit that he had found in the executive suites. almost always blood.
i conduct the orchestra. in paris, it's a wonderful sight. men with small beards and women with fur coats come to see me, and applaud me, although i hardly do anything. men and women make beautiful noises with bows and sticks and breath and fingers, and i wave my shit around like some sort of mentally challenged ape. rich people don't appreciate talent, they appreciate leadership. rich people don't even know talent.
people are born with things that they don't use. people are born with things that they do use.
i am so sick of writing in this goddamn journal when i am bored.
working in hotels isn't so bad, at least sofia didn't think so. when you worked down on the lower floors, and you got the rooms with the two parents, maybe one or two kids, the good type of room. left a good tip, left a pretty clean room, sometimes even made the beds themselves. she felt bad for people like carlos; he cleaned the executive suites. he had told her once that someday, when he made enough money to stop working, he would write a book about the shit that he had found in the executive suites. almost always blood.
i conduct the orchestra. in paris, it's a wonderful sight. men with small beards and women with fur coats come to see me, and applaud me, although i hardly do anything. men and women make beautiful noises with bows and sticks and breath and fingers, and i wave my shit around like some sort of mentally challenged ape. rich people don't appreciate talent, they appreciate leadership. rich people don't even know talent.
people are born with things that they don't use. people are born with things that they do use.
i am so sick of writing in this goddamn journal when i am bored.