"OK. Judy's got five pounds of bacon...yeah,yeah, bring the ham and the vodka, honey. We'll be fine."

I'm not retaining the specifics of my dreams properly. I used to remember them so vividly, nightly. I think it's this new place. The walls are still too empty; they suck up the details of my dreams as I'm waking and I'm left with nothing to write down.

At least I have a toilet now. Sink and bathtub tonight. Or tomorrow morning. Fingers crossed.

while walking to work in jamaica plain yesterday, an old black man smiled at me. i mean old. like at least 65. I smiled back even though i was in a nasty mood and he said to me:

"Well, I'd have sex with you."

he said it as if i'd been walking down south street muttering over and over, "no one will have sex with me!"

this morning when i awoke i wanted to die. i wanted to die i wanted to die i wanted to die and nothing was helping. then i held an icecube wrapped in a cloth napkin in my inner labia for an hour, and now, thank god, i want to live again.

I am internally conflicted over what word to use in reference to my vagina. I’ve been trying to come to terms with the word “pussy” all morning, and it’s not working. In the shower I practiced aloud: “I just washed my pussy,” and “Dove soap does not irritate my pussy at all,” and “Should I shave my pussy?” and “My pussy is wet.” The last one ( Read more... )

do's and don'ts ( Read more... )

and i'm tired and cold and lonely.

old dirty bastard was in my dream last night.

i sat outside to have a smoke and a cup of tea ( Read more... )

here's the thing:

...my life?

coming home drunk to an open apartment door and my two cats, and talking to them:

"my loves? do you want food? oh. you want food."

giving them food and then petting them and then:

"you're all i have, you're all i have in this world."

and knowing it isn't really true, but really honestly meaning it.