Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Did You Buy That? #99

That silver sequin is still there!
It won't go down the drain when i wash the bathtub so I just leave it there.
Is that wierd?
I take a bath with it every nite, it floats companionably close to the drain.


Ouch! I've got a sequin in my eye!!
NO! Stay away I've got it.
God how did that get there.
Look it's red.
It's got eye juice on it.
I wonder if it came from your skirt.


I chose to wear the sequined top for the portrait session.  But poor Anton, putting up with months of abuse from me on how it was HIS fault that I was suffering so.  You see, these were pure metal sequins not those plastic ones you pussies wear nowadays.  As the sitting went on and on, lasting over two years, the sequins began to cut away at my underarms.  (I can still feel a ghost of that slicing!)  Scars would form and then separate during the next session.  They never had time to properly heal.  At some sessions my arms would bleed so that Anton would start adding the blood to his painting.  He would collect by wiping the blood off my skin with a special paintbrush.  It didn't hurt.
I'll show you the scars sometime.
It was my choice, I love that sequined top.


Thank you Andrew Harrison for the middle photo

Tuesday, February 28, 2012


The monster is in the deep.

We all hope that it won't come out.

When it does....

Well, we don't talk then.

We run and hide, and

hold our breaths and bite our thumbnails down to the skin, we

hide, didn't  i say we did?

So now we think the monster's asleep.

Or maybe it's awake and watching, waiting

for it's signal

to come out into the light.


Monday, February 27, 2012

Clarence Ray

I hate turkeys he probably said.

I hate them so much.

Miles of turkeys.

That's why he left when he was 16 to join the Navy.

His mother looks proud of him.
See how he practices standing?

Did he lie to get in?

 I think he must have been made for that kind of life.  He stood straighter in his uniform and liked impressing his friends.

 Maybe he was an outcast.  Maybe he was inspirational.
 He felt like he belonged to something.



Kirsten & Kirsten

What the fuck are you doing?
You have 6 more BLOG stories to write.
I know.  I still have....shit only two days? to write six more?
Oh oh.
So go do it.
I don't want to right now...
Fuck you!
Shut up.
No! You made  a challenge to yourself Kirsten, and no one else is going to finish it for you.
So what? I issued the challenge to myself, so it doesn't matter if I do it or not!
"No one reads it anyway."
You'll be letting yourself down.
Look, after this one is done, that I'M helping you with, there will only be 5 more to write.
That's true.  But I don't know--it's hard....
SHUT UP.  God no more whining, you're making me sick.


But now Clair is using the computer....
Nice excuse.  Don't be so fucking lazy.  Write it down like in the olde days, remember? You used to like writing that way.
I still do but now my hand starts to hurt and my writing gets more and more sloppy-
God shut up.  Please, write.
Yes, Kirsten.

   Thanks to Lance Wagner for the photo:

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Six, Five, Four

I  was staring at the white wall with the speaker cord running along it.  There was a long shadow that i became convinced was a cast iron pipe.  The  speaker cord was resting on the furnace that hangs from the ceiling and i started obsessing that the wire would melt and cause a fire.  The furnace's name is MODINE and I always think, "Matthew?"

If you don't quit I'll hit you, I mean it!
Ok, don't give me those eyes.
The first story was about Moses and how he piloted his arc to the north pole and liberated the eskimos.
That was the first one i heard and boy was i hooked!
Sure you can look at my radio, if you want, maybe, we can go
for a ride and maybe...we'll...have...a....story.
(wink wink)

Upstairs was quiet.
No one was there.
Hmmm i wondered.
Then I remembered! And that's why i should never have gone upstairs!
I rushed into the bathroom and there they were, all hacked up and packed in the circular bathtub.
I backed out of the room, backed down the stairs, got a cigarette, backed out the front door and sat down in my laz-y-boy.
Those pancakes are never going to taste the same, now.


Saturday, February 25, 2012

One Two Three

I just thought i would make the Bisquick this morning.
But strangely, no one was awake.

I called out, "who's up?" and no one spoke.
I started to get the first chills.

But i went on upstairs anyway.
Big mistake right?

My radio was really saying some weird things today! I mean it was like i had books on tape or something! There was no stupid talking or music, just stories, lovely STORIES you know i love
 the stories.
What were they about?
Well I don't know, i've heard so many by now!
It's been going on for awhile, and why do you want to know?
How long? "how long?"
I don't have to tell you nuthin.
And ESPECIALLY about the stories.
I'll keep them for myself (nosy turd).

While i was working the other day, I started wondering if my arm, like what if  the nerves in my arm DIED and my arm turned black and had to be cut off.  And then I had to have a bionic arm or whatever it's called.  Would I be a popular model? Could I get film work? Are there any other bionic art models out there? Could I tour?
Then I started thinking of something else.


One Day There Was A Girl;

The End.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Rendered Inoperable

Dear Dr. Stewart;

I am so excited! I am writing this in the bathroom again, I am putting off my bath in my urgency to write you about the latest incident!

I'm assuming that you know what I'm referring to, I'm just assuming that you got my letter at all!  They might not have wanted you to see it.
So I'll quickly allude to it:

I was putting on my grey sweat pants after my bath and i noticed a pink paper clip clipped to the tag.  I had NO memory of how it got there or WHY or by WHOM and if you'll remember, I suspected a conspiracy of watchers.

(recently i have been pondering the idea that we are just an original prototype of  "Robot" created by ? and that we will soon be replaced by newer models.  or has that always been happening?!)

So I slept with the paper clip on and in the morning, in the bathroom, there on the counter was a new one!  It was pink too.
In a semi trance I picked up the clip, all the while thinking of you, Doctor, and I bent it out beyond all recognition.  It looked like a pink piece of wire.  I smiled demonically ( i was looking in the mirror) thinking about Their camera or microphone or tracking device or whatever it was rendered completely inoperable.  Ha Ha!

So I left it there and waited to see what would become of it.  I have been watching it continuously for 4 hours, but i may take a break soon.

Let me know your thoughts Doctor, I am sorely seeking release from this mystery.


Monday, February 20, 2012

Pink Paper Clip

Dr. Stewart,

I was suddenly very afraid that the pink paper clip i found hooked onto the tag of my sweat pants involved me in a bigger cons;piracy or project.
Were my clothes being monitored?
I had chosen the "pink paper clip" sweat pants; was my choice being watched and notated elsewhere?

What of my suddenly writing furiously on my laptop at the sink in the steamy bathroom.
What would THEY make of that.

I'm sure they are not reading my words anyway.
They know my habits by now, anyway.

I felt somewhat appeased by the idea that I didn't count.

The lingering...fear is brought on again:
 Who attached the paper clip to my pants? If I had left the stupid pants where they were when I found them, I could have found some clues.  Maybe.
So ok ok, I know that a "paper clip" is not really that big of an idea.  right?  hahahahahahahahaha ha.

I will let you know if I find anymore.


Saturday, February 18, 2012

Rambling Among Us

Someone is shining a light in the darkness,
does it matter who they are?

Is that sand or snow?

Does it matter?

 If you shut yourself away from the world, does it cease to exist?

How long can you live with a window between you and them?
 And if that light in the darkness shoots up,  do you move out of the way?

If the light is blinding do you go toward it or
do you look away?

                                                                                    Is that
the ceiling or the floor?

Are you lying on your back or are you peering down?

Where to step, which way to walk.
Up, down, sideways, backways, and slantwise.
Don't forget to try them all.


Saturday, February 11, 2012

The Beauty Part 2

No one expected Selena to show up at the bar that night, but she did, looking more stunning than ever.

Every hipster in the place turned to stare as she jerked across the room.  It looked like she had stapled several twigs around her head to look like a crown of thorns.  The blood had dried like crimson tattoos running down her temples.  Her eyes reflected the lights and she was gorgeous.

So we're sitting there and she staggers over and doesn't even try to order a drink.  She just stared at us all and we could see the new holes in her cheeks she had  poked through her skin.  With her shy smile the holes rode her cheeks like charming dimples.

"Hey", she said.
We all said whatever.
"Not one guy whistled at me on my way here.  NOT ONE tried to grab my ass or creep on me."  She started laughing.  "I'm ugly! I'm Ugly!" She yelled at us, still laughing.

 It was funny but not in the way she thought it was.  Selena had become a godess.  Ever since she had come in people had been inching closer and scraping their chairs and overrunning the booths around us.  Selena didn't notice until that one annoying kid touched her shoulder.

It was a reverent, adoring touch as if she were a favorite statue.  I was sitting right there when her right arm seemed to swing out with a will of it's own, whirling backwards to smack him along the side of his face. Unfortunately, she had one of those tacky heavy glass candle holders they put on every table in her hand at the time.

No one knew what to do and then everyone was doing something different.  It was total chaos in there.
And in all the excitement Selena somehow vanished.  She just wasn't there anymore.

I had a dream about Selena last night.  I was like her reflection as she looked in the mirror.  And I had her thoughts as she gazed but they weren't what you'd think of as "thoughts", you know like "words".  They felt like worms crawling thorough my head, slimey and struggling to climb over the hundreds of worms that were twisting there.  I really wanted to see myself because I was heartbreakingly lovely, but all I could feel were the worms.

And then she just wasn't around anymore.  Didn't come back to work.  Not out at the bar or anything.  I mean no one ever saw her, and how could you miss a beauty like that?


Friday, February 10, 2012

The Beauty Part 1

When she came to work with those big X's carved into her cheeks, we didn't say a thing.  At least not to her.

Of course we talked about it between ourselves in the alley on a smoke break or at lunch at the Thai place. She seemed to not be self conscious at all about the X's, and would still look you or a customer right in the eye.  When Selena looked at you with those golden green eyes of hers, look out.  Many, MANY people fell hard for her.  But she wasn't ashamed of her face or whatever, and she almost seemed to enjoy our uncomfortableness around her.
And we still never said anything.

After the second week of this and her scars  had healed into thin dark lines, we decided that someone needed to bring it up with her, you know like find out what was going on.  Samantha cornered Selena in the break room and then told us what had happened.

She just came right out and said it, "Selena what happened to your face?"
Samantha said she actually shivered when Selena said, "I'm ugly now, right?" in an eager, puppyish voice.

So Sam said, (she said she "crooned") "No no no Selena, you're beautiful, you're still beautiful everyone says so," and she was right.  She always was a heart-stopping beauty; the scars now lent her a depth that she didn't have before.  Now she was a fierce tribal warrior, carrying her flame of beauty into battle.
VERY attractive.

So then Selena said, "No!" and she pushed Sam away, hard (according to Sam) and ran right out of the store.

Weird, we all thought.  She doesn't want to be pretty? Is that why she did the X's?  We discussed it for a bit, but the store needed closing and those cocktails weren't going to drink themselves.


Tuesday, February 7, 2012

The Lovers

The Mistress, a long-legged luxuriant woman used to getting her own way, sauntered into the bar.

And there He was, at the end in the corner.  A clear view of the entire bar is how He liked it.

"Hello," she said, sitting and setting her purse on the bar.

He lit her cigarette.

"You're early," she said blowing smoke into His face.

"If you're on time you're late."  He said.


"So are we going..." He started in at the elbow, rubbing with a thumb.

"Can I at least have a drink?"

Drinks were had.  3 each.  Then:

"I saw the picture."

"Which one?"

"I saw the picture.  I saw the two of you.  IN THE PAPER."

"Oh yeah, well you know I'm a big deal baby.  It's just publicity..." He had moved to the thigh, high up just above her left stocking.

"But," she said clenching her thighs together suddenly trapping his hand, causing Him to fall of His stool dragging her with Him.  They got up.


"But something is different.  She looks different."


"She looks like me!"

"Again, so what?  You have a hot look baby, why shouldn't she have it too?"

"But what does that mean?" the Mistress cried.

"Sssshhhhh.  Why don't we just get out of here, huh?" He drained his drink (4th) and took her arm.

"You're not leaving Her."

"Keep your voice down."

"You're making Her into Me!"

"You're crazy."

"Married men always lie," the Mistress hissed.

And she walked out that fucking door.


Outside in the fading sunlight, she looked up and down the street.  The cars still looked like cars, the streets had not collapsed with the cataclysmic occurrences.  She dragged her heart into the sunset.


Sunday, February 5, 2012

$90.00 an Hour

"So I kind of think that  I might be like a love godess or something."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like people, men, fall in love with me and I have to continually give pieces of myself away to....satiate some kind of motion of the universe. I have to bring love to the world.   "

"Uh huh.  Let's go back to this 'love godess' thing.  I think we're onto something there."

"Well, no, I mean like I think some people are Dwarves?  And elves and goblins? Like we're all descended from these....ancestral mythological beings.  And you can still see some of the traits the old traits in them.  Have you ever noticed that?"

"Uhhhhmmm.  And you're...."

"Well yeah I said 'love godess' I kind of meant....Aphrodite or something.  A MAJOR deity.  That demands....a sacrifice.   I mean my psychic told me I was reincarnated from a temple dancer.  OH MY GOD.  What if all of my lives I've been the same spirit, this 'LOVE GODESS'  trained to serve men and-"


Oh, you're serious.  Huh."


Saturday, February 4, 2012

Mrs. Frederick T. Marsh

When I accepted Mr. Frederick T. Marsh's marriage proposal, I was a young girl down on her luck.
And he rescued me!
I was living furtively in a storage cabinet in his law offices, having recently become the char woman.
I was avoiding living a life of sin and destitution on the mean streets of the city, but that storage cabinet, my home for going on 2 months, was very cramped and unsavory.  My head rested on my clean rags and my meals were eaten off a wiped dust pan.
One day I was cleaning the dust pan to ready for my mid-day meal when a tentative knock sounded on my door.
As I thought no one knew the storage room was occupied, I kept quiet.
But the knock came again.
"Yes?" I asked hesitantly.
"Can you...come out of there please?"  a stern male voice spoke.
I can tell you my heart sunk to my knees as I opened the door, fearing my last refuge would be taken from me,  that my future depredations were going to become a stark reality.
"Yes?" I asked, opening the door a smidge and holding it for support as my heart in my knees was making me feel very unsteady and weak.
"Hello"  he said, and this man that I was soon to know as Frederick, as Freddy, as Mr. Marsh my beloved reached out his hand and opened the door wider, covering my hand in a comforting warmth as he did so.
"Are you living in here?" he asked me.
Fearing reprisal in any case I decided to be honest with him. "Yes I am sir, for these past two months."
"And why would you choose to live in this small closet Miss?"
"I have nowhere else to go, sir. "
At this he looked down at his beautifully shined shoes, and then back at me, into my eyes that had not beheld one shred of human sympathy these past sorrowful years.
"I don't wish to be presumptive, but from a young boy I have always wished to be of service to those in need.  That is why I chose the Law as my profession.  But your situation...."  here he stopped speaking and please do not think I exaggerate when I tell you tears stood out in his grey eyes.
"Sir?" I prompted gently.
"I have watched you cleaning the offices through the late nights, and secretly I have seen you retire to this...closet.  To know that a fellow human is living under my nose in such conditions has been keeping me awake and in a quandry as how to remedy the situation."
He then got down on one knee, and producing a small twinkling ring, my knight and savior proposed marriage to me.
Right now you are thinking of what an absurd tale I am telling you, that possibly the fumes from the cleaning equipment had addled my brain!  But every word is true, as I am now 50 years past that miraculous day.

And that is how I became the duchess of this fine castle, far away from the life I knew, and the life I feared would be mine.
Presently my life is solitary and lonely, especially with Mr. Marsh moldering in his grave these past years.  He was a fine husband and provider and I did my best to do the same for him.  We had no children.  What I take pleasure in is  the sunlight reflecting off the gracious stone floors, the morning dove and the evening sparrows.   A lovely woman, (Martha is her name)  is my constant companion.

I have no complaints.  I will live easily and simply, until I join my Freddy asleep deep in the earth.