Sprouts

When I'm with you:
"The world is lazy, but you and me, we're just crazy
But when I'm with you I have fun
yeah, when I'm with you I have fun

Ever since I was a little girl...

I hate..." (Best Coast)

I'm terribly fond of taking stuffed animals around town with me. It's very Sebastian Flyte. "Charming, but self-destructive and ultimately tragic."

"He went away and you hung around and bothered me everynight. When I wouldn't go out with you, you said things that...weren't very nice." (The Raveonettes)

Est-ce que Tu es Malentendants?

This is your horoscope ardent admirer Lundi au Vendredi :
Please stop insisting you have nothing left to live for. The phrase you're looking for is "never had a reason to live."
Your future as a songwriter ends almost before it begins when you find that someone has already compared the depth, power, and beauty of their love to an ocean.
All of those hurtful kerrie jokes will come back to haunt you this Friday when you suddenly run out of hurtful kerrie jokes to tell.
For centuries fire was a sacred symbol of vitality and strength. Keep this in mind as you roll around frantically on your kitchen floor this Thursday.
A deadly game of cat and mouse will play out this week when you spend several hours pawing curiously at your rival.
Some people believe your house in Heaven is filled with all the things you lost while on earth, which explains the dead pets lying everywhere.
Unexpected and startling events in the coming days will compel you to become more familiar with your monthly menstrual cycle.

Sketchy.

An array of frightening nervous laughter flees from one wall to another.
YOU ARE DYING.






My hands bleed. Poisoned volumes trickle in drops down my purple fingers, resting near the tips of my manicured fingernails.
Don't discount the small amount.
It's just a drip to the eye.




I would bet the cocoa fifty in my back pocket it's enough to stop the continuous melody, running through your body.
Nonstop motion, finally collapses.
The end is never soon enough.

The turtle-dove's necklace - Tu Es Un Neuneu

Far away, constant pounding, so much to say.
It's better that way.
Good to be, good to be on another hill
No sparks seen above her head. She only feels the surface shift
With colors appearing under her eyelids, vivid.
Forgotten.

Laissez-nous vieillir ensemble et mourir en même l'heure,
À perdre moi vie ou de perdre moi amour, c'est le cauchemar J'ai fait tourner de.

Kill Lies All

I don't listen to what art critics say. I don't know anybody who needs a critic to find out what art is.

"I wanted to bring the art absolutely up to date, to retrieve it from art history and give it life.I tried to trespass beyond that invisible barrier that no one is allowed to cross; by my acts encourage the individual to expierience it anew and to challenge it, deal with it and thus see it in its dynamic raw state as it was being made and transformed, not as a piece of history. "


The Peacock Throne.

And to all my dear, earnest admirers, I thank you for your support and constructive criticism, you've pushed me to my greastest heights. I thank you with all of my moist, turquoise soul. I beg others to appreciate my musings and collected pieces as an homage to life, as a tribute to death, and also as a mockery of what is tangible.


Look at me, eyes awake, as I shove twenty grams of white through your nasal cavity. Push, thrust, my pinky through the sharp hairs, your brain it soaks up the fluff, and I feel your movements, soft, then shaking, ending rough. Snowflakes landing in the corners of your eyes, they melt and pour downward. Pupils freed, now explode. White, white as blow.
My limp friend... This is the beginning. You've never felt so real.

The Radiant Child

SAMO does not cause cancer in laboratory animals.


To Repel Ghosts


(Where is Taki?)

My experience has shown me that the artist is a person much respected by the poor because they have circumvented the need to exert the body, even of time, to live off what appears to be the simplest bodily act. This is an honest way to rise out of the slum, using one’s sheer self as the medium, the money earned rather a proof pure and simple of the value of that individual, The Artist. This is a basic class distinction in the perception of art where a picture your son did in jail hangs on your wall as a proof that beauty is possible even in the most wretched; that someone who can make a beautiful thing can’t be all bad; and that beauty has an ability to lift people as a Vermeer copy done in a tenement is surely the same as the greatest mural by some MFA. An object of art is an honest way of making a living, and this is much a different idea from the fancier notion that art is a scam and a ripoff. The bourgeoisie have, after all, made it a scam. But you could never explain to someone who uses God’s gift to enslave that you have used God’s gift to be free.