Gypsy Rose Tattoo

is one of two characters i made up on the way to work one day.
I write stories about them in my head ALOT. Probably too much bc this is real life, right? andin real life
you work at a desk.
whatever. ive got to pay bills right?
so anyway here is bit about Gypsy that begins from a rant about a girl who stole very precious gems from me:


You didn't have to steal. you could have asked. I would have probably given it to you.
but now, you have made yourself into a thief... and you appear...
positively spineless.
with a personality disorder.
oh well.

we were evaluating your progress and you fail.
When did i get made Queen? um.. just last week.

i have a walking skeleton on one side and the other...well, that is the white witch.
i would stay away from her..if i were you.

doe eyes.
stained lips.
i could easily slip a blade right near the jugular... yours...hmmm or mine

but i dont destroy people that way.
i, in fact, dont want to destroy anyone at all.
i want them all to stay away from me
except for the dolls i made and the two or three i will have over for tea

but if you do break into my house at night to steal my words - or my breath
i
sleep beside
a blue steel .45

I can peel my skin off.
i can make none of it matter.
i can roll my eyes backwards and become 85
turn you to dust.

i practiced for hours.
"you are insane and you eat spiders."
she walked away.

hmmm 2004 im an actress now. a really good one. im acting in bed, im acting at the dinner table im acting in class and at work and even when im alone im acting.
i brush my teeth comb my hair
pretending to care at all that i breathe.

Her name is Gypsy Rose Tattoo. She hates her name and she hates her face. She draws
careful pictures off all the bad things she wont allow herself to do.
she paints the ceiling red at 15 and begins hoarding baby food jars.
filling them with insects
"my trains of thoughts are insects..marching in a row..marching across my mind stomp
stomp. stomp". she holds her head.
in her hands.
her daddy plays in a rock band. she smokes pot in the basment and listens to his old records.
She moves away right after high school wanders around barefoot for a long time.
in the grimy city
near the dirty shore
foamy waves lick her pale ankles
i want to see the red skynow im ready for the red sky
she falls backwards into the waves into the rocks

the people who love me

"you should be careful what you blog about," said one of the people that love me. "You should not make yourself....vulunerable."
Am I? I didn't know that i was...well maybe i did. Maybe I didn't care. hmm
the conversation stayed with me. rolling over and over in my head.
Why did i start playing with words again anyway? When did I?

Well nothing i say is THAT personal..nothing i wouldnt say in real life. I spoke about my E.D. to a room full of strangers on TWO occasions. I randomly confess sins in everyday conversations and quickly bite my lip.
See there are boundaries...

oh yes i always had trouble with those.
"Well you never know what someone may use against you...."
and that was very good advice. People are crazy...no one will walk up and introduce them self like "hello i am your internet stalker..." A stealth sneak attack? years in the future maybe? when i have long forgotten that i blogged all those blood clots...
maybe.

Part of me wanted to say...the things in my blog are hardly secrets and they are hardly weakness...If you think they are then i should never show you my real face!! These things are just conversations at the watercooler..little red herrings swimming about..

2007. i'm waving my arms about in a classroom. i'm painting the air with an imaginary brush and rambling to my class about the "personal energy blah blah in movements that you infuse into your painting...into your pallette. The vigourous way you mix the paint the repetive motion of applying it to the canvas..brush strokes...this is an impressionist technique right here, but you find your OWN style you see..." How much of ME did i give them? Well it doesn't matter anyway bc they were not paying attention. I got a small check and bought art supplies with it.

"I didnt know i loved you til i saw you paint. Then i knew"
"well" i replied. "i'm not painting, i'm conversing with the dead."

the unwritten story

Everytime i have myself almost convinced that i can live in a loveless medicated half life some one shows up to remind me that i used to believe in something.

she said love me and let me go
she said love me and let me live
im just not finished yet...some stories just remain unwritten, right?
some pictures just remain unfinished.

I asked him about it ..how he dealt with loss. He said, 'look really,..you know what i do? i just try not to remember okay. i dont want to remember...even your good memories are just reminders of what you don't have anymore. just shove it all down deep"

"god. is that what everyone does?"

"yeah. i guess. i don't know. or they go to therapy"

Social Anxiety Disorder

Let's Compare!

the bone shells beneath waves of flesh

I left the house to go get my oil changed saturday morning and i got back just in time to get ready for work on MONDAY morning and i never even got the damn oil changed. my purse is in one parish and my dog is in another. i won't be regrouped until tuesday...at least i get paid friday.
The house I returned to on monday was not the same one I left on Friday...I mean it was.... Everything was right as i had left it..1/2 a cup of coffee on my bookshelf, open bottle of water, computer moniter holding the last internet page i was looking at...it didnt look like I had even been gone and frankly, I dont remember leaving the coffee there. But i wandered off and got an idea and then another and then i had to get the screws for the stupid bathroom towel rack bc the scews it recquires ARE VERY RARE INDEED...and I did pay the rent, which was good and i went to shreveport and saw Chuck's play which was FABULOUS and he got a GREAT review and I am kind of in awe of actors. real ones, not just "theatre people" and if you have ever been on the fringes you know what the quotation marks mean. "oh we are art people...its okay for us to fill-in-the-blank

and i ate four spring rolls at Dahn's Garden and i am still a little un nerved about that. Esp since spring rolls are kind of gross...like condoms filled with chopped raw carrots. really.

and I didnt take the Strattera this weekend bc i just didn't want to be sleepy!! it is making me sleepy - i give it one more week before i quit.


i know a woman who is amazing....her art is so good it makes me cry. I never really had a hero before.

Savage C and i were discussing childhood heros once bc he has many of them and i couldnt figure out why I didn't...
Eventually i was like..well i just didn't need one i guess.
I didn't need a hero bc i didn't know how horrid the world was bc i lived in an imaginary world.
with talking deer and magic streams and miraculous plants and stories of panthers roaming the forest
and banshees swooping down at night...screaming a mournful tale..
all the tragedy was in the past. In the dirt i played in.

So maybe that is why i made up villians
when they first gave me zoloft i anthropomorphized "him" into a wizard
we were going to FIGHT SOMETHING...something dark and mean..a shadow slipping across my brain.

I don't understand why I think/feel/look awful fat to myself but the people that are scientifically, factually, numerically BIGGER than me look fine and normal and great.

bc its not True about me. its a fantastic lie i tell myslef...so i will have something to fight instead of fighting for my ART or JOB or MONEY or RELATIONSHIPS. its all very lonely, you see.

and of course that is not ALL of it but sometime i just tell myself back the story of myself bc it makes me feel better
even if it may not be true.


So when we bloggers disucss REPLACING..as in "if i cant starve i cut and if i cant cut i drink and if i cant drink i count and if can't count i cut and if i cant cut i smoke and on and on....did anyone else Replace.. with HUMANS? like...if i can't be ocd about my behavior i will become completely OBSESSED with ONE PERSON and create the most co-dependent relationship on the planet?
yeah cuz I did and i may have been physically healthy and sober (for a bit) but i was severely emotionally crippling myself and another person.

Sometimes in my car..the music is just so good i turn it up so loud ..just surround myself with sound so thick..
music and art truly are therapy ..sometimes i just rock out.