June 17th, 2005

mongolian motherfucker

persia: make puss a colorful cocktail..NOW!

mittens: uh...

persia: no one cares that you spent hours icing little sugar cookies with voodoo hexes people think are ER crosses. get off it, maya deren, and break out the tiny umbrellas. kitty feels a brush with lubricity coming on.

mittens: those were strange days. every week someone died of an overdose-i dont ever remember junk that pure . completely unemotive, i would spin rage filled dj sets screaming over the top. one girl used to bring me sheets of the most amazing poetry. yet i was unreachable. everyone fled to cali while i sat in the photo booth upstairs in axis snorting heroin and drinking mongolian motherfuckers .

1 part absolut
1 part kahlua
1 part melon liqueur
1 part creme de bananes
1 part peach liqueur
splash sweet and sour mix
splash sprite
touch grenadine

birds fly off to the north and south. early in the morning-even before the sun rises -i hear them and in hearing them see their V soar off , away from me. people flow through your life sometimes like the trickle of a small stream, and sometimes like a tsunami, spraying desolation and regret- wreckage tossed on the sea, rolling back on by years after the original event.

this wheels on fire and it's time to be done with it.