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LiveJournal for blissqueen.
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| Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010 |
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All the plants and flowers out on the boulevard parading around like prostitutes. The girls around here all painted and up close they look old. Old faces on young bodies... (the bodies can catch up later) Only the dog is sincere and the man with the blue eyes who has work to do. |
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| Sunday, September 7th, 2008 |
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but, I just got back. I am trying to figure what happened. |
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| Tuesday, September 4th, 2007 |
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| fucking ants | ||||
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| Tuesday, July 10th, 2007 |
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when it breaks it is the end of the world a few moments fierce and tragic and then it is the end of the end of the world and other things come. |
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| Saturday, February 10th, 2007 |
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My dad had big ideas about who he wanted to be who he was, deep inside He also felt small somehow he ended up in the smallest pond and still he was not appreciated. Appreciated enough He couldn't quite get the big things out of his head so that others could see them The things that people needed he couldn't really do either still, he was loved and some could see the brilliance. |
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| Thursday, January 25th, 2007 |
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I went to the police station it was my first time in a long time a different world one that movies and books didn't prepare me for. I was waiting behind her They were following her. Who should she call? When THEY followed her? what if she was on robertson and they followed her? and what about doheny? what should she do if they took a picture of her butt? 
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| Wednesday, January 3rd, 2007 |
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swimming with the alphabet letters all around I find the ambulance in the sink I find some other strange things too. He melts against me in the evening little warm one he copies my yawns languidly then looks to me sideways and LAUGHS. |
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| Wednesday, August 16th, 2006 |
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I am clean out of fabulousness you have to be ruthless to be fabulous and you have to brush your hair. It takes a certain amount of motivation that I can't seem to muster it right now. there are too many cobwebs too many to bat down |
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| Wednesday, July 12th, 2006 |
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Contrast Girls One speaks in swimsuit fashion terms. One says her name is Jane. One reveals pitfalls of self-abuse in the English of her day. When the phone rings this one curses. She has no plans for later. Some girls have names that could be guys’. This one’s a “freak of nature.” This one fancy-pantsed her way across the continent. And this one spent large sums of cash trust-funded by her parents. That girl there wore stiffened stays and laced herself with bones. She tied herself with strings, became a little ham of rage. My sister & I once spent the day walking around in Brooklyn. We watched a capybera do nothing, for like an hour. -Shanna Compton |
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| Sunday, July 9th, 2006 |
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oIaz6zBz |
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| Saturday, June 17th, 2006 |
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check this out especially ARTLOVER |
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| Wednesday, May 31st, 2006 |
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We used to be like sharks at sephora enjoying the high blood and lipstick all strewn about then there was the long white leather jacket with the flowers and the pink leather boots I can't even remember what I got. The old things don't work anymore. The Japanese objects the sparkles the blue hair woven into my own. I have drwers filled with make-up and beauty stuff some so special that they have dried up, never been used Now I don't need all of that I have too much as it is, what I crave now is clean water, time to ponder... something inspiring and real I don't want my life to dry up, never been used. |
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| Tuesday, March 14th, 2006 |
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The couple had a certain style, I couldn’t quite place it, It was a definite style though Finally it dawned on me, They were porn stars, they had to be. I knew that somewhere, if I really wanted I could see her sucking his cock. Of course, I didn’t really want to see that, actually I didn’t want to think of that. Especially, while I ate my lunch. He reminded me a ken doll, he had that Ken skin. While I was eating my lunch she looked at me from behind her massive cleavage And I wanted to say “ eat your heart out babe, I get to eat something besides cocks” |
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| Thursday, January 26th, 2006 |
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there is a mark on the inside of my forearm like a little shell from his ear that had been pressed there sleeping warm and snoring If I could have that mark there forever like a stain of this moment I would |
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| Friday, October 7th, 2005 |
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Seperating me from it. A bit sad but resolute. Lonely. So many things that I put energy into that I do not care about anymore. I am on a raft, I don't know where I am going |
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| Wednesday, October 5th, 2005 |
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warm and damp after the bath he stands naked in front of the mirror smiling broadly, little belly, luscious thighs exhilarated he sees himself standing under 2 feet tall he kisses his image leaving tiny hand marks all over the mirror. |
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| Friday, May 13th, 2005 |
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| Sunday, May 8th, 2005 |
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Now that I’ve come out, so to speak, I told you I have cancer, I can talk about what it’s like. The worst part is getting the dx. The next worst is facing your own mortality sadness, confusion and efforts at helping The next worse is your family The next worse is the effects of the chemotherapy. That is what I am going to talk about-especially losing my hair. I knew it was going to come out. The doctor and nurse both told me it would. It wasn’t a matter of maybe, 45% of the people on this drug loose 75% of their hare. NO, 100% of people loose most of their hair. Scalp hair, some eyelashes and eyebrows, some body hair. No one mentioned that the first hairs to go are those little private ones. That was a shock. No one tells you how it comes out. I will tell you. It comes out when you touch your hair, when you brush it. Wash it, think about it or look to see how thin it is. Clumps of it stay in bed asleep when you get up in the morning. When you brush your hair. Strands take flight and hover in the air. I thought I was growing grandpa nose hair and when I pulled one out a full length head hair. The chemo book tells you to prepare for loosing your hair. So I did. I had it all cut off and I thought about a wig. The more I thought the less appealing a wig was. I tried some on at the wig shop. In everyone of them I looked like a guy in drag. One transformed me into Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie. I kept saying I don’t think I ‘m going to need a wig. Ill just be bald for a while. My mom kept saying “You never know , there could be times when what you most want is a wig” . This from a woman who was having her 80th birthday party for 100 people. Finally, I got it... Birthday party, Family, looks good....wig. So, I asked, I bet you’d like me to wear a wig at your birthday party, hmmm, she held on “yes, I haven’t told everyone (my 100 friends) about you yet. I don’t want to talk about it at the party” That made it easier to get a wig, but not to wear it. I got this short brown job and had it styled. Wig lady said “oh, it looks so natural it’s just you. First time I wore it was to chemo, you know to get used to it before the party. The chemo place is a lot like a hair salon-a row of chairs were trained people, in perky smocks do things to you that you that you hope will change your life. A new patient came in, sat beside me and said “nice wig, looks so natural, where did you get it?” I wore the thing anyway. Some people knew it was a wig, some didn’t give it a second thought and some wore wigs themselves, because they are really really old ladies with ratty hair. It went okay, sometimes it crept up in back and I had to try to casually grab it with both hands and yank it down. As soon as I got into the car to go home I pulled it back to let my poor sweaty head breath again. That's the last time I wore that thing. |
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| Saturday, May 7th, 2005 |
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My Mom wrote this: This week I started radiation treatment I’ll tell you how it goes. I drive underground at Good Sam and slide into a special parking space between two giant rams. The space is labeled “Reserved for Oncology” and the space is stenciled “ compacts. From the basement I enter the radiation RX center. They are always situated underground or in a separate building lest the rays escape and hurt people. In the women's dressing room I get into a cotton robe and touch base with the other nine o’clock women. A grandmother tatting with red thread, a woman in a black Cleopatra wig who tells and retells the story of losing her wig in a wind storm, a farm lady who reminds me of my mother in law’s homey farm talk “now we got that second apple tree down there it puts out a real fine apple- sweet, but not a keeper. Best in pie and applesauce.Vi” Vince or Mike come to get me. Both in their 30’s. Not much on small talk, no eye contact. I think of them as techno nerds. They are exacting in arranging my body on a cold slab to get it just so- so they can focus the underground rays in exactly the right spot. They don’t speak to me or each other except the one time I moved to get a bolster in the right spot for my own comfort. Vince and Mike said in unison “stay real still” I felt like a gangly bug being mounted on cardboard by two little geek boys. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t make me nauseated, it doesn’t take my hair. It does take some grit and a philosophical approach. I started with tx on the breast bone. That meant that mounted on the cardboard I had to open my cotton robe and pull down my bandeau bra I’ve been wearing. My brother thinks Mike and Vince got the job because they had no other way to see real breasts everyday. This week they started Tx on my hip. I told my mom, I am going to see Mike and Vince. they're going to ask me to pull my pants down this time. She in her usual absent minded way said “Have fun honey”. |
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| Monday, March 14th, 2005 |
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There are some good looking people in LA. I don’t mean people that look good, I mean people that are good to look at. People who are on all kinds of trips. People who are depressed and people who are on antidepressants. Not Prozac or Zoloft, but good old fashioned drugs like thorazine. Drugs that make people shuffle. Drugs that make people get haircuts that look like triangles. I used to think it was cool to be crazy. Cool to have found an escape. Once when I was in the hospital, in the psychiatric ward, there were all these middle-aged housewives, they would sit in these groups and talk about their depression. That was not so cool. There was this Asian guy though; I wanted to be his friend while I was in the hospital. He was a pyromanicac. Now that was cool, burning stuff down, now that is not giving a shit about anything. After a few days I gave up, I couldn’t understand a word he said, and he didn’t give a shit about anything I said. I have heard that the things that initialy attract you to a person are the things that drive you away… After that I started working on getting out. Today I made the wrong turn in a store and came upon the saddest interview I have ever seen. A makeshift table in a hallway with florescent lights. A young man, who didn’t look too smart, bent over an employment application mumbling. A seated woman with her back towards me, all I could see was the back of her head bobbing in some sort of feigned energetic agreement, and her ass crack. Outside a man struggled to keep his balance while bending over to pick up lost change. |
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LiveJournal for blissqueen.
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good.