I should maybe say hello ghouls. We're in a graveyard, I realize. I'm in the back of a butcher shop, this is where I'm hiding. Count ONE MISSISSIPPI TWO MISSISSIPPI THREE MISSISSIPPI FOUR, come find me.
On the train yesterday morning on the way to my modeling gig a homeless man sat next to me and started screaming at me threats and scary things. I wrote in my notebook COME GET ME. Now I feel like I'm playing that game? Sardines? Hide & Seek? I used to play that with my neighbors when my family lived in Los Angeles. Those were the days. When I was 8. I feel like I'm hiding but I'm the only one playing.
I mean to say: HELLO GIRLS HELLO GHOULS
We're in a graveyard.
Literally nothing is going right. I cannot control how I feel or what I do or what I think or even what I'm alllowed to put in my body. I am most definitely NOT feeling better, still sick. Maybe forever. This is what it's like now.
Any conversation I have with anyone involves something going very wrong. There are too many things to count and I am very scared. Welcome to the Jungle. What's the word THE GREEK WORD (so many Greek words! I should get a new book I should travel and learn a new language huh?) for when you see a murder and then you are complicit in the murder? MIASMA? I feel like I am complicit because I am watching horrible things happen. And then I share them with you all on this neat little blog. Gawd remember LIVEJOURNAL? Or DIARYLAND? Now THOSE were the days, if you ask me. No one ever asks me. Alright!
When will it be enough, I wonder? What's my cue?
I guess the rule of thumb is WAIT FOR BLOOD.
For what it's worth I don't think we'll have to wait very long, girls. Let's get this show on the road!