5 Sep

dear prudence,

i dropped acid for the first time today. i think i had a bad trip though. the conch on top of the toilet tank kept daring me to lift it and look underneath. i only had half a hit but the others said i had a bad trip. the walls started breathing and all i could think of was what horrible wallpaper they had on. i’m not scared of anything. i really like roman polanski but one of my friends said he had sex with a 12-year-old. i hate users. the peter murphy show is on saturday and i guess i’ll be driving all my sorry friends. it’s at the 9:30 club. have you ever been to it? they’re getting ready to close it down and re-open in another location. at night after shows if you walk around the side and to the back alley you can see rats the size of small cats. rats rule d.c. rats rule d.c. rats rule d.c. according to the chinese zodiac i was born during the year of the rooster. sometimes they call it cock. what chinese sign were you born under? wanna hear something funny? my mom’s relatives in cleveland told her that i might be punk. wanna hear something else funny? i hate eights. 1988 was the worst year. two of my friends died that year. one was drowned sailing a catamaran and the other died from spinal meningitis. the one that was killed on the boat was pinned under when the thing flipped. that happened once to simon lebon from duran duran but he was trapped in an air pocket and he survived. lucky him. lucky us. so i painted over the faces of tammy fae and jim bakker. on a picture. did i ever tell you that i paint? sometimes i use my own blood. anyway i used primer on their faces so they’re all white and i gave them heavy eyeliner and long black hair. this is how they ought to look. i think i’m going to the cure show next month. do you like the cure? there seems to be some kind of rivalry between fans of the cure and the smiths. i don’t know what the big deal is. i like both robert smith and morrissey. i wrote this on the inside of my notebook: suicide is murder. but now i’m not so sure. i’m not so sure about many things. my mother thinks i’m depressed and i ought to get on meds. i don’t want electro shock therapy. did you ever see one flew over the cuckoo’s nest? i like the big indian. just now my mother just went crazy and started ripping all my posters off the wall and screaming. she threw a plate of spaghetti against the dining room wall. i’m pretty sure i’ll have to clean it up. i think my mom’s gone insane. we’re all crazy.


One Response to “punk”

  1. Janete Cabral 22/09/2007 at 4:26 AM #

    It reminds me of Chuck Palahniuks Diary…like his writing, yours is incisive, raw..wakes us from the dull reality.

    keep them coming my friend

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