i got fired from my job today.
i left without saying goodbye to anyone but Jeff, choosing instead to save face and smoke a cigarette in the alley before catching the bus home.
I am highly aware of my surroundings on public transportation, and try my best not to be the passenger everyone pays attention to, like the homeless man who had been having Vietnam flashbacks on the commute this morning. But, I'm also terrible at hiding my emotions, and found myself sobbing into my sleeves shaking into the place between the windows.
One woman mouthed "feel better" as she left the bus. One man kept staring, more in a concerned fashion but enough to make awkard eye contact. He gently removes his headphones.
"I have a message for you," he says quietly. "Not from me, someone told me to give it to you"
I don't know how to react.
"What?" I say
"Jesus loves you"
It is my stop. "He has a funny way of showing it" I whisper.
"Remember that" he says as I step onto the street.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
domestic violence, not just a RZA song
They had the worst fight we've heard yet a few nights ago on the front porch. We could hear the screaming "GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE" and the sound of the table being thrown at the wall, or Bruce. It continued for maybe half an hour. We had locked the door and bolted it, yet listened carefully from the living room.
Eventually the cursing and banging against the walls stopped and was replaced by a rythmic pounding. They were fucking.
"You can hear it better from the bathroom" Scarlett says.
"Do you really want to hear it better?" I ask.
"Um....kind of" she says.
"Me too"
And we huddle in the bathroom ears near the wall listening to them fuck. Pretty soon it turns back into fighting.
At this point, we assume the cops have been called, though we will never do it.
We see the flashlights and unlock and open the door to the screen.
The cops don't take long, and seem urgent to hurry off.
We are disappointed we have not been interviewed. As they pull past the house Scarlett and I stand on the front porch. The cops yell up "Did you ladies call the cops?"
"No" says Scarlett, happily munching on the popcorn she has made for the event"
"OOOOOH. Candy!" I say, during the fight a whole bunch of candy has been scattered over their side of the porch. I pick out a lollipop and a caramel. The cops look at each other and drive away.
Eventually the cursing and banging against the walls stopped and was replaced by a rythmic pounding. They were fucking.
"You can hear it better from the bathroom" Scarlett says.
"Do you really want to hear it better?" I ask.
"Um....kind of" she says.
"Me too"
And we huddle in the bathroom ears near the wall listening to them fuck. Pretty soon it turns back into fighting.
At this point, we assume the cops have been called, though we will never do it.
We see the flashlights and unlock and open the door to the screen.
The cops don't take long, and seem urgent to hurry off.
We are disappointed we have not been interviewed. As they pull past the house Scarlett and I stand on the front porch. The cops yell up "Did you ladies call the cops?"
"No" says Scarlett, happily munching on the popcorn she has made for the event"
"OOOOOH. Candy!" I say, during the fight a whole bunch of candy has been scattered over their side of the porch. I pick out a lollipop and a caramel. The cops look at each other and drive away.
I almost died at Target
my father calls to tell me he thinks i should seriously be considering a career in politics. i try to tell him that "me", my "life" doesn't mesh well with the current political climate. He doesn't agree, but he also still thinks all of my tattoos are temporary. He's decided to devote his time to making painted fish out of driftwood. He thinks this might be his true calling. My mother makes signs out of driftwood, but I didn't tell him, so he'll probably never know. its just weird i guess.
Our next door neighbor comes over to watch tv and drink on the couch. Before he leaves he crouches next to where I am lying on the floor and asks how everything is going. I don't know what to say really, so I tell him "not bad". He tells me he likes my boyfriend, seems like a nice guy, always has his face buried in a book.
I have to explain to him that I don't have a boyfriend, he's talking about John.
"You said you had a boyfriend"
"I did"
"What happened?" he asks.
"I don't know. broke up"
He touches my hand.
"Well men are shit. You don't let a man bring trash into your life. A lot of people mistake kindness for stupidity."
He grasps the ashtray between us and considers picking it up, then moves it aside. "No I won't use this as trash" he says, then grabs the water bottle behind my shoulder.
"Say I'm the man, and this is trash. He brings in the trash and you have to THROW IT" he whips the bottle at the front door and it clamors off the ceiling the cap flying back in our direction. "Don't let him bring it into your home. There's barely a man worth shit in this day and age. HIM.." he gestures towards his apartment and his boyfriend, "He's not worth..." he blows a raspberry and stares intently at me. His spit is flecked on my cheek.
"You need to find the most handsome beautiful man you can and let him fuck you, have one kid and adore it. It'll be your best friend and if your man abuses you, fuck him. I should take my own advice." He proceeds to tell us that his boyfriend is a phenomenal fuck.
I stand up to go to the kitchen but he stops me.
"Do you want to know your future?" he asks.
"You're going to meet a beautiful guy, not some DEAD BEAT DAD, some TURD," he spits. "They're all LOSERS and you'll fuck him and sometimes he'll be there and sometimes he won't. You'll have really happy years and you'll have some really sad years and you'll have a kid, one kid, and it'll be your best friend."
He is staring at me very intently and because I have no reaction I walk into the kitchen to make tea. While I am gone he tells Scarlett my man will die way before me. That's cheerful.
John is in the kitchen and I attempt to tell him all I have learned in the past few minutes.
"John the neighbor is predicting my future" I whisper. "I'm going to have one kid and its going to be my best friend"
"Boy or girl?" he asks.
"He didn't say." I answer. "It's not important. How sad is it that I have to spawn my own best friend?"
We both laugh but John looks at me intently.
"Wait," he says. "That look you're giving me. You're worried that it might be true."
Yeah. You're bound to love me by blood you little fucker.
just another normal night at the house.
don't worry. i'm bound to die young. probably choking on a nacho at target. which I almost did last week. And you know, that negates everything you've ever done in your life, choking on a nacho at target, too embarrassed to even ask someone to do the Heimlich maneuver.
Our next door neighbor comes over to watch tv and drink on the couch. Before he leaves he crouches next to where I am lying on the floor and asks how everything is going. I don't know what to say really, so I tell him "not bad". He tells me he likes my boyfriend, seems like a nice guy, always has his face buried in a book.
I have to explain to him that I don't have a boyfriend, he's talking about John.
"You said you had a boyfriend"
"I did"
"What happened?" he asks.
"I don't know. broke up"
He touches my hand.
"Well men are shit. You don't let a man bring trash into your life. A lot of people mistake kindness for stupidity."
He grasps the ashtray between us and considers picking it up, then moves it aside. "No I won't use this as trash" he says, then grabs the water bottle behind my shoulder.
"Say I'm the man, and this is trash. He brings in the trash and you have to THROW IT" he whips the bottle at the front door and it clamors off the ceiling the cap flying back in our direction. "Don't let him bring it into your home. There's barely a man worth shit in this day and age. HIM.." he gestures towards his apartment and his boyfriend, "He's not worth..." he blows a raspberry and stares intently at me. His spit is flecked on my cheek.
"You need to find the most handsome beautiful man you can and let him fuck you, have one kid and adore it. It'll be your best friend and if your man abuses you, fuck him. I should take my own advice." He proceeds to tell us that his boyfriend is a phenomenal fuck.
I stand up to go to the kitchen but he stops me.
"Do you want to know your future?" he asks.
"You're going to meet a beautiful guy, not some DEAD BEAT DAD, some TURD," he spits. "They're all LOSERS and you'll fuck him and sometimes he'll be there and sometimes he won't. You'll have really happy years and you'll have some really sad years and you'll have a kid, one kid, and it'll be your best friend."
He is staring at me very intently and because I have no reaction I walk into the kitchen to make tea. While I am gone he tells Scarlett my man will die way before me. That's cheerful.
John is in the kitchen and I attempt to tell him all I have learned in the past few minutes.
"John the neighbor is predicting my future" I whisper. "I'm going to have one kid and its going to be my best friend"
"Boy or girl?" he asks.
"He didn't say." I answer. "It's not important. How sad is it that I have to spawn my own best friend?"
We both laugh but John looks at me intently.
"Wait," he says. "That look you're giving me. You're worried that it might be true."
Yeah. You're bound to love me by blood you little fucker.
just another normal night at the house.
don't worry. i'm bound to die young. probably choking on a nacho at target. which I almost did last week. And you know, that negates everything you've ever done in your life, choking on a nacho at target, too embarrassed to even ask someone to do the Heimlich maneuver.
Sniffing animals as a form of affection
Caro and I are having some whiskey and having a little girls night. and she mentions she has new netflix. "what?" I ask, barely able to contain my excitement. "Brown Bunny" she says. and you all know how much i love a nature documentary. Much to my surprise, Brown Bunny isn't about our furry Leporidae-n friends, but in fact, Vincent Gallo driving his car, a lot. Then making out with broke down ex-models, then driving, then more driving, then Chloe Sevigny sucking his dick, which, due to extreme boredom, we fast-forwarded to. Then I thought...wait! The man is a fucking genius! He got Chloe Sevigny, a well? respected actress, to suck his cock, and i mean really do it, then he calls her a whore and tells her he hates her...if that was his modus operendi..then Vincent...hats off to you. "Hey Chloe...whats up? working recently? I have this art film...maybe you'd like the role...oh yeah, its really deep (no pun intended)." Then Chloe is all like..."ohh...thats so artsy and beautiful...sure..." and Vincent walks off the set knowing he got his cock sucked by Chloe Sevigny...its a hell of a way to get girls. I bet he never calls her again. So now I'm all like, nice work Vincent, it only cost you about 2 grand, no? Thats just a guestimate comparing what I saw of the movie to the budgets of various, and equally pathetic film school "masterpieces" I've seen. So all in all, 2000 bucks to have Chloe suck your cock and let you call her a whore? Possibly genius. Then you did the whole "I see dead people thing" and now I just hope you die in a fire.
does Vincent Gallo jerk off to porn?
only if he writes, directs and stars in it!
wait wait, this doesnt make sense unless i told you that i think vincent gallo is just furiously masturbating while he makes his films.
also...mayhaps they were dating when they made the movie? okay. well. thats far better than putting pictures of you fucking your ex girlfriend on line. wow thats a funny site. terrible. terrible.
does Vincent Gallo jerk off to porn?
only if he writes, directs and stars in it!
wait wait, this doesnt make sense unless i told you that i think vincent gallo is just furiously masturbating while he makes his films.
also...mayhaps they were dating when they made the movie? okay. well. thats far better than putting pictures of you fucking your ex girlfriend on line. wow thats a funny site. terrible. terrible.
And then it occurred to me...
i don't think i've ever seen another human being take a shit before. in person.
no. there was one time. a crackwhore at Coney Island. one of the people manning the booths told her they had public restrooms there. over the loudspeaker. we were on the ferris wheel.
This morning a homeless man squatted on a tree outside my work as I ran to get something from my car. We exchanged a quick and awkward glance and he ran away, pulling his pants back over his naked ass.
i laughed and then threw up.
no. there was one time. a crackwhore at Coney Island. one of the people manning the booths told her they had public restrooms there. over the loudspeaker. we were on the ferris wheel.
This morning a homeless man squatted on a tree outside my work as I ran to get something from my car. We exchanged a quick and awkward glance and he ran away, pulling his pants back over his naked ass.
i laughed and then threw up.
Does not live up to potential
Apparently, obliterated one night, he recorded himself expressing his deepest and most...interesting sexual fantasies. Crying into a four track audio recorded he bared his soul, and his affinity for dirty street punk girls, or more specifically, their crusty panties, preferably worn for days and unwashed.
I watched a show a while back. After the death of his wife, this man mummified her body. For 7 years he made love to her through a vaginal tube he'd installed (or lovingly created?). He preserved her like a doll with a intricate death mask, and sprayed her with perfume to mask the smell of her corpse. He tied her bones together with piano wire. I actually felt bad that the police had taken her away from him. I mean, thats truly love.
"I don't do drugs anymore," I said, blowing the last of the pot smoke out of my lungs, "or at least, my m.o. has changed." Once I figured out that the "does not live up to potential" box checked on every report card since kindergarten was mostly accurate, and having no post-college job prospects or even the desire to work all, I switched from cocaine and pills to marijuana, mushrooms and acid. Perhaps subconciously trying to push myself closer to losing touch with reality all together. It seemed the best course of action, really, and it was interesting without being terribly ambitious.
Ambition loses meaning so quickly when your personal goals are broken down into daily necessities. Congratulations for actually taking that shower today!
At least when I was 10 I could tell you what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now I am grown up, I suppose, and the best answer I can think of is "alive" and the morning after a bender thats on the fence too.
Recently, I had been asked that question, verbatim, and the cogs in my brain ground to a stunning halt. "I.....I don't know, something....interesting".
"The correct answer is 'I don't want to grow up'"
Oh.
Well, that makes sense.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A writer"
"When did you decide on 'big loser'?"
At 13, I wanted to be either a sniper or a political spin doctor.
I see now why I wasn't terribly popular at that age.
I watched a show a while back. After the death of his wife, this man mummified her body. For 7 years he made love to her through a vaginal tube he'd installed (or lovingly created?). He preserved her like a doll with a intricate death mask, and sprayed her with perfume to mask the smell of her corpse. He tied her bones together with piano wire. I actually felt bad that the police had taken her away from him. I mean, thats truly love.
"I don't do drugs anymore," I said, blowing the last of the pot smoke out of my lungs, "or at least, my m.o. has changed." Once I figured out that the "does not live up to potential" box checked on every report card since kindergarten was mostly accurate, and having no post-college job prospects or even the desire to work all, I switched from cocaine and pills to marijuana, mushrooms and acid. Perhaps subconciously trying to push myself closer to losing touch with reality all together. It seemed the best course of action, really, and it was interesting without being terribly ambitious.
Ambition loses meaning so quickly when your personal goals are broken down into daily necessities. Congratulations for actually taking that shower today!
At least when I was 10 I could tell you what I wanted to be when I grew up. Now I am grown up, I suppose, and the best answer I can think of is "alive" and the morning after a bender thats on the fence too.
Recently, I had been asked that question, verbatim, and the cogs in my brain ground to a stunning halt. "I.....I don't know, something....interesting".
"The correct answer is 'I don't want to grow up'"
Oh.
Well, that makes sense.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?"
"A writer"
"When did you decide on 'big loser'?"
At 13, I wanted to be either a sniper or a political spin doctor.
I see now why I wasn't terribly popular at that age.
Everything you read is true
"yeah it must be true, i read it on the internet."
"oh cool, where?"
"my site, i posted it."
To escape from some boring self involved literary types we duck in a small store in china town lured by some karate samurai headbands in the front display case.
"so, how much for the head bands?" we ask the old Asian man behind the counter.
"2.98"
We look at each other while digging through our pockets. he has 93 cents. I have a nickel and some lint.
"sorry..we...we dont have enough" we tell the man.
"you mean to say, 2 adults together don't have 2 dollars and 98 cents between them?" the amusement and criticism in his voice is enough to make us edge out of the store uncomfortably...ashamed.
as we leave he is laughing.
i am red.
"oh cool, where?"
"my site, i posted it."
To escape from some boring self involved literary types we duck in a small store in china town lured by some karate samurai headbands in the front display case.
"so, how much for the head bands?" we ask the old Asian man behind the counter.
"2.98"
We look at each other while digging through our pockets. he has 93 cents. I have a nickel and some lint.
"sorry..we...we dont have enough" we tell the man.
"you mean to say, 2 adults together don't have 2 dollars and 98 cents between them?" the amusement and criticism in his voice is enough to make us edge out of the store uncomfortably...ashamed.
as we leave he is laughing.
i am red.
The space between the stalls in public restrooms
I am standing in the doorway of the bathroom and through the crack in the stall I can see some fat hispanic girl retching over the toilet or she is doubled over trying to pull up some grossly undersized panty hose beneath her short denim skirt.
At this point the mushrooms are hitting hard and I return to the dance floor with a drink I've taken from someones table. When I finish I drop the bottle on the floor delighted at the sound of shattered glass and the gritty feel of it beneath my heels. I sense that someone is glaring but then some shirtless 18 yr old asks if i'll buy him a beer and I say no, but he gets in my face and i push him over into the crowd. He grabs me and apologises, asks if I can swing dance and I say I used to know how but I'd rather not but he twirls me around anyway and mentions that he models for some magazine while my friends laugh nearby.
It am too sweaty and I need water and a cigarette so I walk around unaware that I am walking and watch the lights and video blend into the dancers and see the same five people walk by me over and over on repeat. I'm sorry, I tell my friends. I need to go get lost.
At this point the mushrooms are hitting hard and I return to the dance floor with a drink I've taken from someones table. When I finish I drop the bottle on the floor delighted at the sound of shattered glass and the gritty feel of it beneath my heels. I sense that someone is glaring but then some shirtless 18 yr old asks if i'll buy him a beer and I say no, but he gets in my face and i push him over into the crowd. He grabs me and apologises, asks if I can swing dance and I say I used to know how but I'd rather not but he twirls me around anyway and mentions that he models for some magazine while my friends laugh nearby.
It am too sweaty and I need water and a cigarette so I walk around unaware that I am walking and watch the lights and video blend into the dancers and see the same five people walk by me over and over on repeat. I'm sorry, I tell my friends. I need to go get lost.
he didn't have a phone, but he sold cocaine.
"i don't think he likes me. i asked him if he'd ever fucked an animal and he didn't appreciate it" she says harshly. File it under: general assumptions made about the sect of American society we call white trash. The state equivalent of a "flyover country" she calls them. She frantically rummages through her bag for the remainders of a joint or a cigarette.
"What's worse? Being ditched by someone from Alaska, Oklahoma, or Illinois?"
This is met with silence. She grew up overseas. Her parents have lots of money, so she doesn't do anything, unless drugs and driving around aimlessly count. She shaved her head once and went to go work on the Alaskan Pipeline, and while she did go to Alaska,she never made it to the pipeline. She fell in love and had a psychotic episode instead. She says she's been institutionalized on 3 continents, which I've never doubted.
"The one from Illinois, at least he lived like, 5 miles from the edge" she tells me. Somehow, the residents of Indiana have brought civility slightly past the borders of their state. I've was there once, years ago, and cannot remember if this is true.
"All these perfect Adonis hick white boys. and I'm being ejected from the Aryan Nation because I'm crazy?"
"What's worse? Being ditched by someone from Alaska, Oklahoma, or Illinois?"
This is met with silence. She grew up overseas. Her parents have lots of money, so she doesn't do anything, unless drugs and driving around aimlessly count. She shaved her head once and went to go work on the Alaskan Pipeline, and while she did go to Alaska,she never made it to the pipeline. She fell in love and had a psychotic episode instead. She says she's been institutionalized on 3 continents, which I've never doubted.
"The one from Illinois, at least he lived like, 5 miles from the edge" she tells me. Somehow, the residents of Indiana have brought civility slightly past the borders of their state. I've was there once, years ago, and cannot remember if this is true.
"All these perfect Adonis hick white boys. and I'm being ejected from the Aryan Nation because I'm crazy?"
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