day 2: mostly haunted things
day 2: mostly haunted things
new orleans, day 1 until my phone died
i am in the newark airport with soundsgalore and my lips are chapped and look at this ring.
sometimes i’m really sad but sometimes things make me happy and i love the way you smell / the way you feel and i have a new nose ring and it’s got gems on and i’m going to NOLA with my best friend and i have an undercut again and i keep touching it, very gently, with my fingertips; it feels like part of me but also something bristly and entirely new.
i do work too tho
i am comfortably drunk in senior seminar this is great
anyway, it’s 5:40 and i’m chugging a tallboy before my 6:00 class so like
glitter, damar varnish, stand oil, gamsol, and a dab of oil paint
today in class my TA told me, “i want you to be indulgent with this work” and i almost cried. we were talking about my recent paints.
i operate on a model of scarcity. i never think i have enough. there’s never enough money, never enough food, never enough love, i even thin out my paint with linseed and gamsol. i’m painting with the same five tubes of windsor & newton oils i bought over a year ago. i’m always so needy for anything— sex, booze, cigarettes, hard drugs, tenderness.
when he said, be indulgent, i thought of beautiful and luscious things. i thought of whipped cream and sprinkles and oil bars and gel mediums and silk and fake fur and a hundred different kinds of glitter. i thought of varnishes and tiny tubes of gamblin, the kind i shoplift when blicks is busy and no one looks my way. i thought about how every time i go home i stuff my suitcase with only beautiful things, so that i’m forced to go out every day in velvet and leather and faux fur. i thought of pizza and beer and eggplant parm and cupcakes piled high with frosting, of mangoes and pomegranates and avocados.
i thought of indulgence and i thought of how hungry i am, how i am made of desire, a mouth on legs, i thought of the boy i slept with once over the summer and spent three weeks chasing. how he told me: i want everything, i want it all, and i looked at his face beautiful beyond reason and i thought, i want you, and he’s in san francisco now, where all my boys eventually go. and i thought of how i so often feel as though i am spread thin and scraped dry, how i am afraid i will never be loved again and that i will never be famous, i thought of how when i buy a pack of cigarettes i always tamp them down with my hand and then open it, peeling off the plastic, pulling out the foil and marveling at all twenty of them stacked there so full in their rows, and i have to hide my pack so i don’t smoke them all, and i don’t keep booze in my room because i’ll just drink it right away;
i thought of how eager i am to be tender, how when i tied you up and then rode you it felt like something was lost, how when we undid the knots and you finally put your hands on me i almost melted with pleasure; i needed you so badly without knowing and when you were gone for those moments i forgot what it was like to be under your touch.
Anonymous asked: i've been following you since a little after you started blogging (i remember original shutlow). i apologize if that came off kind of abrasive.
aw yknow i thought it was kinda cute actually. you’ve been around for a while! i was a real goober in high school.
to be perfectly honest i think it is only sheer vanity keeping me going right now
i’m sad as hell but i look cute as fuck and i’m killing it with my recent paints
*pouts at reflection in her laptop screen*
oil on canvas
my last few paintings have been about bondage, sex bruises, coke, and vitamin b12 fluoro pee and everyone’s been surprisingly chill about it