mr. mittens (akmed) wrote,
mr. mittens

hairstyles of the tyrannical and islamic

i am dippity- doing persia mohammad persia's mane into fanciful big statements- i've fanned it out on the sides like a prissy pointy lion . sometimes i just mohawk it down the center.

we're listening to the del rubio triplets. soon "the neutron dance" will be on and persia will run from my busy comb because i know she'll want to dance.

the days would pour down like thick gel liquid napalm. that fucking song always reminds me of being the the hospital- sitting in the day room putting together puzzles and not speaking, not communicating to the ' milieu' therefore damaging everyone else's theraputic environment.

the same 5 songs are always on the radio which is always on. ' the neutron dance'," i wanna know what love is"," drive" and several things from the first madonna album. everything is white -noised over and rather blankly conceived. i wanted to kill myself and failed . i'm stranded. i should be dead- why the fuck am i listening to the pointer sisters , pushing together jagged bits of a deer's antlers while depressed drug addicts stare at me? when i do speak it's completely evil and they seem to enjoy it.

the MHAs drag me out to some group meeting where some strung- out newly-returned-to-the-bin bitch is feeling sorry for herself and telling everyone how it sucks ' out there' and they'd better just give up because they'll never make it.

" And does anyone have a responce to that?"

" Oh yeah i do.", i pony up and they're all excited that i had finally begun interacting in our collective ' healing', " You seem like a completely selfish hardass bitch, but, in a way, i think that's kind of hot."

it's decided that i'm far too ' sick' to participate in group therapy.

next, because im awake all the time and cant sleep i pipe prince's 'darling nikki' into the diningroom at 6AM while all the old people are having breakfast ( the young depressed drug addicts dont get up until forced to later). prince yammering on about screwing really seems to wake them up. oatmeal is sputtered about- some of these people had been so drugged up they barely seemed to move. now theyre all worked up to a fine lather. i have at last aided the milieu, contributed, but cause the music room to be locked and now a MHA trails me like an errant piece of toilet paper on the bottom of a shoe.

eventually, i lose the tail. the hardass bitch and i fuck in the hospital chapel and in a car in the parking lot.

redemption isn't pretty. i was pretty nasty, fairly malevolent. perhaps it's what kept me alive. could it be that's how i was redeemed?

  • Midsummer's Nightmare, Unresolved

    21- morning of the 22 June 1996 Swedish national Karina Holmer is last (reliably) seen alive around the Zanzibar night club on Boylston Street in…

  • Pacific Northwest, so much to answer for

    Marie M. Malvar, 18, was picked up by Gary Ridgway on April 30, 1983 near a store of Pacific Highway South in Seattle. Her boyfriend tried to keep…

  • Viva Zapata

    The man who raped and murdered Seattle musician Mia Zapata in 1993, Jesus Mezquia, died in custody in Washington State on 21 January 2021 while…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.