Monday, July 19, 2004

MISTER ENEMA.... strikes again

i hadn't been in california for more than a month & a 1/2 or so when one day i found a polaroid of this naked guy from the waste down with an enema tube up his ass in my mailbox. because i am a sick perv i found it funny, not scary or repulsive (well, it was a bit gross - but funny gross) & it made walking down the street much more interesting as i began noticing all the men & wondering who it was. not to mention that for months i would discreetly display it in jack's house- on the refridgerator, in the living room... every now & then it would just turn up.. & usually when i was the only one in the house & some workmen would be over & there i would be standing in the living room talking to one of them & realize that 3" from my head was a polaroid of this naked guy with his legs in the air & a white tube coming out his ass. it was never jack or chris or joe.. always ME that ended up getting busted with the nasty photo.. it finally disappeared.

so today, i grab my mail from my mailbox & what do you think i found.... same guy, quite possibly the same white tube (do those things have a shelf life i wonder?)... new pose & i have to say... a some what disturbing glisten to his boner & left hand. i don't even want to contemplate the number of liquidy substances that could be.

the really strange thing is.... it is almost a year to the day that i got the last one. maybe dead on- i didn't happen to notate the first one's arrival. it's like a christmas card or something. tonight i am leaving a note in my mailbox telling the guy he should really shave his ass & balls & reconsider the pose because his ass squishes together funny. really all ass shots should be taken 1. from above & 2. while the subject is either on their knees or standing so they can sort of swoop their tush out & make it look it's best. people will just never learn.

i'm sort of happy though... i've been here a year & so far my enema man is the only person that still cares i am in town! it's so nice to be loved & cared for.

now it is time to research my dick files & see if i turn up a match... there's a shirt that looks slightly familiar & this one has a much 'better' head shot.... the penis' fingerprint. hahahaha.

and to think all i was going to do was take a nap today when i got home from work.

Sunday, July 18, 2004

I love dumb bitches

especially when they band together like WWII soldiers in a steven spielberg HBO special. are we to believe the feeble minds of two or more whores are better than 1??? hahah. that's a joke. it may be easier to divide & conquer the cock cavalcade at the local strip club if you toss in a little girl on girl action- but when it comes to anything more complex than applying glitter to your tits- your idle threats are laughable to the point of embarrassment. yes, it's true. i feel no threat- only embarrassment for YOU-at how misguided & weak your minds are & always will be.

for one thing- there aren't enough words in my rather vast vocabulary to describe how completely i DON'T CARE about your endeavors & conquests. at the end of the day- the joke will always be on you & the fact that you most likely won't even realize it-is the saddest part.
so let's not waste MY time, ok? your battle cries are beneath me. not to mention that i needn't dirty my fingers with your shopping mall mentality–given time you will fall & at the hand of your own gun. the low-minded & weak always do. you lack the intelligence, loyalty & fortitude to pull yourselves from the gutter much less pose a threat to a single second of my way of life or thinking.
all i need to do is sit back & watch the carnage created by your jerry springer way of life. it's quite simple: odiate et aspetate... my dears- hate & wait. imbeciles are their own worst enemy. and let us not forget: it is the winner who writes history- not the loser. which is why you are destined to die much as you were born: as not much of anything.

the truth is, i can't be bothered to even watch you & your cheaply costumed follies much less take pleasure in your inevitable downfall. that is what you don't understand- your entire existence BORES me & has from the beginning.
every word uttered forth from your crude plebeian mind only further proves what i have thought with every breath i take: you are stupid, shallow, duplicitous, untrustworthy, common, vulgar and completely lacking in any refinement, dignity or self-esteem: essentially; you're as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside.

and with that, i can rather confidently add: i am so fucking far out of your simpleton league that it is really rather futile for you to continue on with your tough chick charades- but if you must, you must. if that is how you make your life seem important- far be it from me to spoil your childish games. there is no civilized way to deal with the by-products of the female sex who come with a trailer hitch as their wedding dowry & i certainly won't lower myself by even making an effort.

even at my lowest point in life as a human... & make no mistake-i have a dark, sordid past of my own- i was still a better person than you or you posse of ho's can ever hope to be. think of that before you waste my time with your bullshit drama. i don't live on a fucking aaron spelling sound stage & i don't intend to start behaving like i do.

the subject IS CLOSED.

i have much more important matters to contend with: and YOU will NEVER factor in on my list of cares or worries.

i had one of my favorite dreams last night

or actually just now before i woke up. can't really describe it- i'm living in nyc, there is a ton of construction going & most of the side walks & streets are elevated, piles of dirt everywhere, i'm always looking for a cup of coffee or food but can't decide where to go so instead i end up walking up & down bway about a zillion times. there's a button factory comprised of nothing but the skeleton of a building & all the walkways are wooden scaffolding (SP?) & then someone is chasing me so i run & run & run until i come to this really pretty building under a bridge- that looks like it is some sort of restaurant. i go in & it is empty so i look for a place to hide out for awhile & in my sleuthing about i find this huge indoor pool- totally brooklyn art neuvo YMCA. the room is dark, cavernous & decrepitly beautiful-arches, huge leaded windows & a glowing blue tile pool-that is way cleaner than any public swimming facility in all 5 boroughs could ever dream of being-much less one in a run down ymca in the ghetto. i float on my back staring at the domed & coffered ceiling, ears submerged beneath the water, beethoven's 5th playing in my head & it is one of the few moments in my life when i feel nothing but calm (which i am guessing is part of the reason i love this dream so much)
then i am walking around in a courtyard & i realize it is some old hospital. the courtyard is full of really old, moldy sinks & tubs-each one i love more than the next & my mind instantly begins to race (once again) as i try to devise a way to get them all back to my 20'x15' apartment.
next i am being chased again-and i am back inside, except now it is this more modern version of yet another pool house. the walls, floors & ceilings are clad in shiny white tiles & due to some plumbing failure or new therapeutic treatment there is about 3' of water everywhere. it is strange & even though it sort of scares me for some reason (i keep thinking about turbines & some strange sudden suction wisking me down a drain?) i kind of like being back in water. i make my way through the maze of curving halls & stairways & find myself in a long dark hallway. i go down some more stairs & find myself in this strange dark room with several round sofas with these glowing glass circle tables inset in the center. i sit down & peer into the glass pressing my nose against in total awe. it is an profusion of bright flashing colors. fractals swirling, crystal like formations building on top of one another & then exploding & building themselves up again from the refuse. i have no idea how long i stare- it seems a long time & then i wake up.
now i am awake & would much rather be back asleep. i have no reason to be conscious today other than having to do laundry & having to take my weekly 10 mile bike ride to drop off paperwork. i would much rather just spend the day unconscious. there seems to be little reason to spend it otherwise.

Thursday, July 15, 2004

it's official

the spider is here to stay. his name is marvin. and i think he is the sort of spider that if he wore a suit- it would be a rather dashing navy pinstripe number, with a crisp, white bespoke shirt & bright orange silk tie. don't ask me why... i don't even know where 'marvin' came from much less how i picked out clothing for him.
at any rate...... for like a month now there has been this daddy long legs hanging out in my bedroom by the nightstand. 5 idfferent times i thought we had parted company via the hoover express... but apparently the little devil is faster than my arthritic vaccum wielding self & time & again he has outwitted me. last night, when i sat on my bed & he crawled out, rather nonchalantly, from behind my otherwise dust & critter free headboard along his freshly spun line & hung out by the light on my nightstand. it seemed futile to do anything but give in. so i smacked a mosquito that was about to eat my arm (i guess my apartment is rather borneo-esque these days) & dropped it's carcas into the delicate tiny little strings of spider stuff he has had to rebuild almost daily as i shoo him away from my bed. you have to admire such perserverance- i dont' really like spiders but i have to say that marvin has sort of grown on me. i told him that if we were going to share my sleeping quarters he had to promise to stay off my head while i slept.. & most importantly out of my mouth & nose... anywhere else was more or less for his own safety because i would probably squish him. now that he is a resident so to speak i can't help but wonder what he will eat? how long do spiders live? will he die now that i have named him & added him to the roster of hellos & goodbyes everytime i go in or out? maybe he will take care of the mosquitos that seem to flock inside with me everyday.
maybe i will wake up one morning & find that he has spun a message over my bed for me....

heather is some pig!


do spider's have ears?

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

crazy fucking small world

so i am sitting in the office today- reconstructing some 65 year old woman's hair do pixel by pixel because - well, never mind, it's a long, incredibly boring tale- but anyway, i am sitting at the desk of a man who is out on sick leave- with a brain tumor. he comes in to visit & my first thought is 'god he looks familiar- but i know i don't know him from here (because i know nobody)' he's chatting with the ladies & they finally introduce us & the first thing out of his mouth is 'you look SO FAMILIAR- but not from sacramento.... have we met?' i was like 'i don't know? i was wondering the same thing- where could we know each other from?'... & so 15 min passed by as we recounted everywhere we have ever worked & lived... & then his mouth dropped as he struck upon it... "you're the one. soho, meisel, circa 96-97 maybe, you were like his poster child..."
: his friend & photographer mark lived & worked in a studio directly below my friend & fellow photographer steve m- who's walls were covered with life size (beautifully done if i say so myself) portraits of me in various costumes, states of dress, mood & consciousness. some were from fashion shoots, some were just taken around the apartment, about 75% were taken as he followed me around while i did nothing in particular (if i recall- there are some especially nice 'heather shopping at the dried fish/gift shop in chinatown')
we have absolutely NO recollection of when, how or why we actually met- he remembers always poking around steven's looking through his books & piles of photographs- but we have no idea how we came about seeing one another- we sort of giggled that he probably remembers me as that naked chick in the photo in the living room as opposed to actually meeting me in the hallway- but oh well. it was just really strange.... and then we started talking about knitting. he's totally cool & he has a rad scar on his head

Sunday, July 04, 2004

simple psychology

if you feel you're in an environment where you can't fail... sooner or later, you'll explode.

Saturday, July 03, 2004

frogs & freaks

so i was riding my bike once again- through the leafy, lush neighborhoods of streets lined with faux tudors & lovely post-war mini-estates.,, M street. it's pretty, it's quiet. you know they aren't the really, swank places- because all the tacky ass new money have laid down their sprawls by way of cookie cutter McMansions in roseville & el dorado hills. but it's nice- very reminiscent of the cleavers neighborhood & it makes for a pleasant ride- which i must make anyway & it beats the hell out of j street.

so anyway.... i'm riding along & usually i don't see a single person. today, i notice about 15 cop cars slowly weaving their way through the streets. my first instinct is always panic. my heart flinches, my eyes dart around looking for the nearest back alley & then i remember 'derrrr... you haven't DONE ANYTHING pig worthy in years.' and thanks to a few 'friends' i am graced with a clean & more importantly an undetectable or traceable record. so i carried on, zig-zagging back & forth on the street as i checked out pretty gardens & nice stone work- from back in the day when people built with real stone & not that composite bullshit. a few blocks up a cop car slows to a stop & sticks his head out.
'umm, hi there. you haven't seen a really big guy, ummmm, with no shirt,,,,,,ummm,,,,,,,,,,,,,'
i sort of thought about it a second & said 'no, i don't thin...' & he interrupted ' carrying a really BIG KNIFE' at which point i totally busted out laughing as if he had said a 'a john C. holmes blowup doll coated in horseradish'
'nope, no large men with knives- sorry, i'll keep an eye out for him though' & rode away still chuckling. it just sounded funny for some reason- like the fact that he was really big & not wearing a shirt was somehow more of an issue than the fact that he was wildly waving a knife through the quiet hamlet of midtown sacto... and all i could think was 'god i hope i see him so i can tell him to put on a fucking shirt'.. but alas, no such luck & before i knew it i was back out on the ever dreary j st/fair oaks blvd drabness humming 'rubber ducky you're the one' but for some reason the words had changed to 'chunky monkey you're the one, you make snack times lots of fun, chunky monkey, i love takin bites outta you'... who knows where that musical gem came from.

so on my return trip i retraced my steps & once back in the quite & safe haven of upper m street i noticed that there were several people out walking on the streets. it was a lovely day & apparently nobody had heard of the raving lunatic endangering their very lives with his partial frontal nudity, large, lumbering physique & a pesky penchant for stabbing. so as i passed them, instead of engaging in the usual 'cute dog banter' i did my best to instill terror into their quiet, passive lives by asking if they had caught the mad man running around naked with a 13" knife yet? while nobody ran away in horror, i am proud to say many an eye began darting about nervously & summer afternoon walks were abruptly cut short. i suppose the ability to jump fences becomes exponentially more difficult with every 6 kids you have strapped into your baby carriage resembling a mini bus with it's 18 compartments for your assorted brood of children aged 2 mos to 3 years- so hasty exits may not have been an option.
as i rode up behind a blind couple- complete with canes & dogs & assorted paraphernalia, i thought to mention that they may want to try not 'looking blind' & watch out for the serial slayer- but bit my tongue & realized that the minimal humor in telling blind people to 'try not to walk blind- it made them a prime target for murder' was fleeting & would be in no way humorous once the words left my mouth. so instead, i slowed my pace so as to not run anyone over or startle them & said

'bonjour mon petit poulet! coming through! je recommande les souris pendant qu'un apéritif elles sont spécialement très bien ce soir !'

i wasn't even 3 feet away before i heard rather confused muttering from the couple who just happened to speak PERFECT FRENCH- asking each other what i can only guess (since i speak only assorted french phrases) to be: 'did that girl just recommend we try the mice as an appetizer tonight???'...... and so, i continued on my way, giggling embarrassedly to myself at my little faux pas français but also realizing that if i'm going to be an ass- i couldn't have picked a better couple to try out my french culinary quips... i mean who would have thought there'd be a blind, french couple walking down m street on a sat morning with a raving knife killer roaming the streets????

... who sadly, i never once laid eyes on.

cheese whiz, ever elusive cheese whiz.

oh where art thou my cheesey elixer?
where do you hide and why?

Friday, July 02, 2004

first memory

high chair. vinyl seat with cracks around the corners of the cushion. pasta stars & square carrots on the tray of the chair... the mashed remnants of chicken & stars soup. baby blue & pink balls that spin on the wooden dowls of a crib. a little boy crying. a woman in white with red hair and cold hands.

i was 3 months old. in the hospital. i had pheumonia. the little boy died.