*:*:*:...I'll take mine by moonlight.....

My bad fairy medicine that is.

These have been some of the craziest days of my fucking life, soooo nutso...First of all I had to teach crazy hyper active children about photography at an art camp. It was held in this huge auditorium room with a fake fire that glowed and moved on some astro turf with pop corn machines, and tables. The first days we had to give presentations, so I showed video and photography, having borrowed some of brian's prints. Okay phew, that's over great. So tired, sooo blazed.

So I am on my way home, and who do I see in the train station???! NONE OTHER THAN THE BITCH FROM WITH CORN ROWS FROM THE BABY SAFE HAVEN COMMERCIAL.!!!...hahahha...with her arms around a very tall, black basketball player type, ironically, because in the commercial (For all you non-bostonians) which was aired for a while on fox 25 or something stupid like that had a group of adolescent ethnic teens that where wearing gold jewelry and rapped about an adoption clinic "IF YOU GONNA HAVE A BABY AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO,
BABY SAFE HAVEN CAN HELP YOU TOO!" Then they would sway their arms and chant "BABY, SAFE HAVEN, BABY, SAFE HAVEN"

they even made fun of it in a couple newspapers, I mean yeah ridiculous. So then I went to arturo's and everything was nuts as usual. Except this day he decided that he wanted the place to have a mural outside. Me:" How about a palm tree on a beach in the ocean?"


Him: "Fabulous!"

..and then we can have jalapenos in a boat going to the island and eating there in little lawn chairs and tables.

fabulous.

So I went home, got my paints, blazed, dilly dallied, borrowed an MP3 player from good old dimitrius, smoked a tiny bit of salvia, took a nap, listened to pumpkins, spaced out and finally went back to my toil.

Arturo was gone. it was just me and the slovok and fabio. and what a night this would be. I had run out of smot, and i had hoped that somebody, preferably a hot chick or dude, would ask me to blaze with them. i would paint until i met up with rohan later. yes yes indeed. So i got a big canvas, all my paint, and broken pieces of mirror and began to paint.

Seriously everybody who walked by commented. I must have talked to at least 150 people, more. everybody was nice and i discussed the wierdest things with them. one dude who i would see pass by was like, hi I'm terry, ...he pointed at the painting and said, you know when I was younger I used to go to the boston latin school and I remember that the colors purple and white symbolized the rich and wealthy class in ancient rome. then we tried to remember their name, the pebians or somthing gay like that. tons of real weirdos, and mares. One dude told me he was a painter too and was going to bring me paintings to show me. then lauras friend ricardo who lives in the building next door with a posse of insane flute playing, pot smoking, beer chugging spanish boys from all different south american countries. theyre pretty chill. so he was on his way to get a chocolate blunt wrap and then on the way back he invited me to come with him. so i was talking to some arty bitches and then i threw my stuff and my paints into the store, intstructed the slovok to watch my stuff and ran upstairs. while we were waiting for wilito, jeremy the youngest, and antonio who looks like a deranged spanish joseph fiennes, where playing drums and flute and causing a general spanish ruckus. then we waited for antonio to sell a bag, the boys gathered, kissed me hello and then we went on the roof and smoked a huge blunt. then they where being really really really crazy and I asked them how to say high in spanish, so they told it to me in each seperate dialect, dominican, columbian, puerto rican, and the like.

I settled on the dominican slang for twisted, doblada. and they were getting great amusement out of making me say 'yo muy doblada'. making hand motions like i just fell to the ground. typical boys, love getting girls blazed. then i went back down and painted more. and a posse of slovakians came and started harassing me. but one of them named mario LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE MY BROTHER. LIKE FUCKING REALLY SCARY. TOTAL TWIN. i was shocked. i was like, um....pig? like what the fuck...and they where all hitting on me and being crazy and I asked them if they where there to see the slovok who worked there. slovok?! where? there? they got all excited and ran inside, except for the pig look alike, who asked me for a marker and drew the tri cross on the three mountains symbol for slovokia, right above my ocean with the sailing chili peppers. Then the other dudes came back from inside, they had been out buying vodka and they lived in the same building with me and inky's spanish compadres. one was really hot and we started speaking polish, and then they waited for a russian girl they where muttering about who was wearing slutty clothes and had bleached white blonde hair, she smiled at me as they pushed her through the doorway, and they disapeared into the night.

I was asking people what a palm tree looked like in mexico so it would be the right kind, although ricardo wanted it to be a caribean palm tree. at one point fabio was outside and there where all these people and i yelled, free for all in front of arturo's in the street! and we all started cracking up. then this crazy fool in glasses and one of those irish hat things, said he was a law grad student, and he said that he was with a friend who said that my skirt was scary. (It was layers of black shredded material and silver glitter) ..."Tell your friend not to be scared of faeries then!" I said madly as I continued to paint on the sidewalk, dumping piles of glitter everywhere. He said something inconsequential that I don't remember to which I then replied "That is the question of the hour isn't it?" and he said, trying to be clever but failing " no the question of the hour is what your name is."

"Carolyn"

..."Funny that's my friend's name who was scared of you, Carolyn."

I started laughing. I only spoke in riddles to the strangers mostly. he was asking me for my info, so i gave him my site. I will never put my number on that i swear. hahahha....well indeed. So he went away, I painted a bit more, and then the slovok was getting ready to close so I started cleaning and stuff. I went in the back and did the dishes, cleaned up my paints, and washed my brushes.

(the whole time I was there every single person who was on huntington ave passing me, said they liked the painting, or cool, or nice colors, or if they where girls I would shout after them that they where hot too. felt kind of like it did when people paid me to take their picture with me when I was dressed up like a faery in harvard square when I was hookin' crafts with fag and christina.)


I had left rowan outside to watch my stuff, because we were going to have a small party on my roof, and re-stock the what not. So I came back outside he said that some drunk woman had wanted to step on my painting, but he stopped her. So then these two evil looking drunken jerks started calling him a faggot and all this. I was trying to be the peace maker, until the one particularly vile one looked at me and then shuffled across my canvas. Thank god it was dry. "DIE YOU STUPID SONS OF BITCHES! YOU GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKERS!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!!" And the like where screamed by me and Rowan. So then they came back, and they pulled the slovok out of the store and I thought they where going to beat him up, so I grabbed his arm in attempts to drag him away. He was fine though, and I was shaken because out of the hundreds of nice people I spoke to there was this pair of fucking assholes that emerged from the bar after dark to cause trouble. an allegory for the rest of humanity. I had forgotton evil existed so I had to be reminded.

Wilito and Antonio where in the adjacent doorway while this went on, so I went and told them that the dude stepped on my painting and they were like what the fuck! so it seemed like it was getting worse so rohainus and I made a quick getaway, and got really blazed.

The next day I went to the art camp and picture me with a bunch of cute hyper black children with a castle under a moon with multi-colored crystals as a back drop, a stage, poloroid cameras, and a ton of little ballgowns, crowns and capes that lara and I had picked out at the garment district the day before and then had a well deserved vanilla almond boba tea by the MIT campus. (apparently their lara's newest addiction)

Now I just had to throw in some of Aunt Sandra's awful nutso sequined 80's clothing and cocktail dresses with ruffles and huge sleeves that shimmered. The boys actually put on some dresses, picture a tall black kid in a hot pink tiara and pink moo moo that lara plucked out of a pile of clothing saying "hahahah oh ...look its a pink moo moo!" followed by stories of her injecting mice in the brain with amphetamines and then dissecting it at work. hahahaha....

One put on an entirely sequined shirt and a crown, and was the 'king' and then the rest of the girls were fairy princesses (like their teacher) and they took some ridiculous pictures. I took them up to the chapel, like the main part of the church, and they started playing with the microphones, playing on the bands instruments and the organs, and jumping in the priest's chair, and I was just so high, and being myself I was like, fuck the papacy! go for it kids, take pictures with that bible, oh yeah drop it a few more times, hahahah until a nun came and kicked us out. I was later snitched on, but denied everything, saying a security guard was present, which oddly enough he was somewhere there in the back, but he didnt care and I think was laughing as well. whatever god like doesn't care if that golden candle stick is crooked or straight. God wouldn't be like, omigod, liiiike the carpets corners are rolled under!!! give me a goddamn break. I don't think you need a 'church' to be spiritual. you don't need a golden candle stick.


Soooo...then I had to return Brian his photos, which I really liked, being costumey and interesting. So I went and blazed him up on his roof and we were chatting and watching the local drunks and crack heads kill themselves slowly with huge half liters of vodka. there was actually a crack whore there as well. I had a very strange deja vu while looking over harvard ave in allston...later I think I went to arturo's. so gone. hallucinating ...whoa nebula...exploding...shimmer swan dragon? *walks into something...

I honestly don't even remember how I got there. But he started calling me crazy because at some point during this story I skipped work and smoked bowls in my room and listened to pumpkins because I was so exhausted from the campo crazo circus maximus. The second day kids made a movie while dressed up. They were amusing. any how arturo said, "and what about the complaint with the police because of the altercation outside of the store?" ...I was like," uhh there where crazy people out there man. bums trying to sell me stereos real weirdos man." which there were. Fabio and Walter started gabbing gibberish who haa in spanish with me that later I found out involved something with the boss saying that I get high off paint. grrr...and then walter was standing outside with me and wilito walked by.

EXT. Outside Arturos. Late Afternoon

Wilito: "I fucked those mutherfuckers up!"

-Points to the cut on his upper lip

"I fucked them up man! I fucked those mutherfuckers up!"

He was wearing a shirt with guns or some g unit affiliation, a hat and ghetto 'ice' earrings.

Ricardo came by later and said that after rowan and I had fled to the stoner roof top, those evil dudes had started calling wilito and antonio 'puerto rican faggots' and just saying really stupid shit, so then wilito apparently took them both on himself, while antonio, whose arm is already in a cast, probably just watched.

so strange. They where just jerks looking for a fight. I of course didn't want there to be a fight, but the incidents became separate. They were fighting them, and it just added fuel to the fire that they disrespected a lady friend. ahahha...wow. really ridiculous.


Marie said laura and fag and cristina got stopped at the border and drug dogs sniffed out their forty dollar ounce of mexican brick weed. sucks. I hope they is allright.

more compliments, more crazies as I painted the mural more. This crazy painter man called me the 'barista dominatrix' okay guy. freak. hahaha...countless passer by and then finally I ran into some mass tarts, casey...I love casey. and his hipster bicycle posse. Freshman year(ahh scary saying thaaaaat!!!) he was my 'RA' more like drink with us while wearing glitter and david bowie t shirts. haha...silliness. He would run into me while I was painting my epic midievil dragon commission and compliment it, and this time as well "looks good sweetie" in that old comforting gay boy tone. Later polish ania stood behind me until I noticed her and we burst into a polish speaking frenzy, that died down to and english slow banter, she had run into me once at sephora while I was dousing the mares in cotton candy scented perfume and pink glitter. This time she showed me pictures on her phone dressed up as a vampire covered in blood...when I asked if it was halloween she looked at me and said that it was just to go to a movie, that she does that all the time. ooh...ohkay. hahah, and now she works at fluevog shows, coool, and we both high fived to not having boyfriends and discussed corsets. We used to be the token polish wenches, dark straight hair with thick black eyeliner. ... I'll just leave it to how camille described me in the paper. on the arms of our older artist boyfriends. PUKE! we hope they fucking die! Doing art shows as couples and being disgusting together when it was all just a goddamn lie! and we were no happier! and we didn't fucking need them, we can show our art at seperate shows thanks. dickheads. die die die. oh yeah, and speaking of slow death:

The realtors locked me out again. After having to deal with hilda, the realtor who aspires to be the pied piper to take care of our rat problem I suppose, on the phone, again. I took a huge piece of paper and a big red marker and wrote:

"NOTICE: TO ALL STUPID MOTHERFUCKING REALTORS WHO COME IN MY APPT. WITHOUT CALLING, THERE IS a laser bean waiting to melto your UGLY motherfucking face off upon entry. If you DARE lock the bottom lock, I will grind your children's bones inro my beer and sear your fucking FLESH off and shove it down your pitiful mother's throat while you are still ALIVE, during the time I am usually LOCKED THE FUCK OUT OF MY OWN FUCKING HOUSE. THANKS TO YOU FUCKERS."

then on a smaller flier that has anti-bush propaganda on it that the crazy anti-bush dude in haravard square gave me I wrote: "PS-I HOPE YOU DIE! in huge angry red letters.


I took it down though a few days later. It sure gave old dimitrius a good scare though ..whooohahahaha....the neighbors HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH....

On my way to get indian food yesterday I was smoking a bowl on a street of scenic 1800's homes, all red brick. As I got up to leave, I dropped beautiful Azoth, rest her soul, on those awful red brick. poor poor Azoth.


I missed her as I smoked on the roof top later. Spying huevos and his hipsters with jangling belts. I could see their gelled hair and hear the jingling from the roof. "RYAN MURPHY IS AN IDIOT". followed by cackles. He said they were off on some mission, so I bid my good byes. The lady of shallott blazing on her tower rooftop. Funny the building has a faux castle entrance, and there is a dirty little winding river that can be seen across the street in fenway park. talking to the passerby below, watching them.

glittery tin box,
dried white rose.

as the mermaid swam deeper,
she heard the echoeing of the earth's womb
stillness beneath the surface
colors bubbling and swirling about

rainbows brightening even tombstones.





Then I blazed with ricardo, and I showed him the Snow Queen, his beloved pulpo of course as the starring role was the focus of his attention. hahahah...oh lordy.