After Morgan Page: In the Air somebody shit in the cd player over there at Sirius/XM tonight.
I'm expecting to hear Spin Doctors any minute.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
Mellowdrama
There aren't enough keys for the composition in my head.
Fuck, I need to see that catfight from Boston Legal with Parker Posey. I need it in my life.
You look like a monkey in a spacesuit with silver epaulettes.
I could live there. I could live in that.
Exponentially increase teh funny.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Hypercraphia
If I were locked in a stereotypical television insane asylum, I'd be the one writing all over the medically white walls of my cell.
In feces.
In feces.
Gender
I'm not as manly as some lesbians. And you--
I'm not as manly as some lesbians either.
Exactly.
I'm not as manly as some lesbians either.
Exactly.
Immaterial Girl
I have froth.
I have a problem with mail-order catalogs… LLBean, Sierra Trading Post. I would get drunk, I mean wet your pants drunk, and I would order a bunch of shit.
Any sign of free shipping on the cover and I get all hot and bothered. I would get all excited and call someone at their toll-free numbers just to talk about products I really don't give a fuck about. I would order all kinds of shit. One time, I ordered a weather station.
A weather station?
You know, one of those things where you put the thing outside your window and it tells you the temperature inside.
Wouldn’t you put something inside to get the temperature inside?
No. (Nonplussed.)
I have been looking at these backpacks. They have audio ports... monographs. Have you seen these hot models in pleated khaki pants?
I looked up and she was staring down through the end of a hollow Red Vine she had bit both ends from.
You’re drunk. Wet your pants drunk.
So. Are you.
I have a problem with mail-order catalogs… LLBean, Sierra Trading Post. I would get drunk, I mean wet your pants drunk, and I would order a bunch of shit.
Any sign of free shipping on the cover and I get all hot and bothered. I would get all excited and call someone at their toll-free numbers just to talk about products I really don't give a fuck about. I would order all kinds of shit. One time, I ordered a weather station.
A weather station?
You know, one of those things where you put the thing outside your window and it tells you the temperature inside.
Wouldn’t you put something inside to get the temperature inside?
No. (Nonplussed.)
I have been looking at these backpacks. They have audio ports... monographs. Have you seen these hot models in pleated khaki pants?
I looked up and she was staring down through the end of a hollow Red Vine she had bit both ends from.
You’re drunk. Wet your pants drunk.
So. Are you.
Friday, August 24, 2012
About this work
This is a collaborative work conjoining the psychobehavioral disorders of two very different people; my hypergraphia (compulsive writing) has found a perfect companion in the form of my dear friend's dissociative identity disorder, or "losing time," as she refers to it.
Disparate facets of her personality are, at times, time thieves, battling one another for that precious commodity: screen time in the role the dominant performer.
The title of this work comes from the way she prefaces her revelations about these performances. Froth is that part of a cappuccino left in the cup, that hasn't been consumed yet. It's what's left, when the cup is ostensibly empty.
Disparate facets of her personality are, at times, time thieves, battling one another for that precious commodity: screen time in the role the dominant performer.
The title of this work comes from the way she prefaces her revelations about these performances. Froth is that part of a cappuccino left in the cup, that hasn't been consumed yet. It's what's left, when the cup is ostensibly empty.
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