All a girl needs for an ego boost good for a week is to go for a walk in my hood on a sunny day. I love real people! And women wear hats (well some of them).

Something to be said to appropriate ad placement

This ad went really well with the soundtrack! I am a sucker for juxtaposition.

I love that Yahoo news writers think as fast (or as ADD) as me:

“Aiken lost out to Ruben Studdard in 2003. He’s since released several albums, appeared on Broadway and publicly confirmed he’s gay.”

Bad art of an oppressed immigrant and some bluffing

So, in my pile I found a really, really bad poem that I will not be caught dead quoting in public,

Every day stuff.

I am having a generation gap with myself. In preparation for the new album, I dug into my main pile of half-poems, love notes etc.

I found some things that I wrote about 10 years ago. I was kind of enjoying the delusion that I had been smarter back then, but I guess not.

P.S. In case anybody ends up writing about me after I die, good luck trying to read my handwriting!

Good Lord, I really was a tormented soul! Interesting…

I am finding all these scribbles now all of a sudden.

They are grinding,
They are grinding
All you want and
All you are.
Who was hoping?
Who would care?
No, they don’t,
They only mar.

All you dreamt
When you were little -
All you knew
Was true and right -
In the toilet!
Dear mother,
Little baby
Lost the fight.

Baby, baby
In the toilet!
Baby, baby -
Gone the spark!
Grinding, grinding
Hereafter.
Grinding, grinding
In the dark!

Was it true?
Perhaps, it wasn’t.
Was it true?
Perhaps, it was.
Baby crying
In the toilet.
Baby crying -
Baby’s loss.

NB! I wrote it BEFORE I saw that film with Johnny Depp. I think. Although I am not sure

And this one is actually going onto the new album, it is one of my favorites.

Before the music was stolen.

Before the music was stolen,
Before it was tied to bed
By a nurse with a china head
Whose lips were bleeding with honey –

Before her throbbing composure
Was kindly helped to its knees
And even allowed to please
The Master Decapitatress

Before a thousand ants
With eyes of perfect amber
Were summoned into the chamber
To witness the final bliss –

And then, she was painted over.
A cold, and sightly tickly brush
Running between her shoulder blades,
And then, down her spine, and then -
It was over.

And where she used to be,
There was this giant smiling boob,
Ready to please the whole town,
Ready to drown in piss and drool.

Before the music was murdered,
I was not homeless.

(it sucked when one time when we played this song, a drunken guy climbed on the stage and made irrelevant sounds. I wanted to kill the motherfucker).

My take on love poetry

These pieces are not very new, although I’ve never shown them to anybody. At this point, they have very little to do with me. So please don’t see them as an autobiography. The words came to me, I tried to listen and write them down as closely as I could.

Smile of the Snake

Soft caress of an enemy -
Nothing is stranger than that, if you are a woman.
Nothing makes you a better warrior.

Inflatable sharks

There is no love. At all.
Some foreign bodies.
Some hungry foreign dicks – and me.
That’s that. Oh God.

I close my eyes. I think
Of that one summer
When I was nine and knew – for sure
That love would come.

Hello, it didn’t.
Duh.
(so screw you all, I’ll obviously, live).

 

I had a weekend from heaven. I am having a day from heaven. And perhaps a life from heaven. God is good. And I am going to sleep, have not slept much with this trip and all. And I am finally learning the song that makes me go to heaven for good.

My cat is a brat.