these days

here is some of my art....

... i like it, i like to do it. to all who would like to trade for money or other things of value, please let me know. you can even call me at 513 235 9014, i will probably answer. but if i don't, leave me a message.

surfing temporarily disabled by lack of strong current available to all who try to surf for free. money makes for great waves but my purse is empty.

it is grey and overcastingly sky today.

although my kidney stopped hurting a while ago, i keep on forgetting to not drink coffee or eat sweetness; it starts hurting about twenty minutes after, ibuprofen is my friend. i think i have to not eat what i want to for at least two weeks. i wish i had insurance, then i would feel better about not going to a doctor.

i still haven't found a job, but right now i don't really care: not having a job because i got fired fits in with the landscape of this really ugly day. it's the time of year where i don't have all the warm clothes out of the closet yet, well, i went through the closet stuff and found out that i hate all those clothes steeped in closet funk for two seasons, just want to throw them off the fire escape and forget about them, too broke to have any fun these days.

I got another pink camera

Yea, just like my old one, it's pink. a co-worker stole my last one from out of my purse, inside my locker. i hate not having a camera; not able to snap up pictures of what is going on around me, crazy shit happens all the time and weird stuff is laying around on the streets and painted on the walls. sitting on the fire escape with bare feet getting sun and winded. watching people walk around down below me, most of the girls seemed really pissed off, yelling into their cell phones about shit they should stop worrying about. wanting the father of their children to stop being such a loser, they should have thought about that when they fucked him on that night full of cheap vodka and three cherry blunts. fuck it. but cherry blunts are so good...
my kidney is better, i still don't really know what the hell was wrong with it.
all these cars need to feel the wrath of the mini potato gun that resides in the windowsill down in my living room. it is so much fun to hit cars with mini potato bullets as they drive by the front of my building, they never know we hit them; we laugh mischieviously as they drive off. my neighbor said that i am teaching my five-year-old such good life skills and setting such a good example, i agree totally. hummers need to be hit by full size potatoes. so does george bush. at least someone threw a shoe at him that one time.
cowboy boots are almost always a bad fashion choice on a monday morning surrounded by down-town business suited people, it just doesn't work out. and i'm not really a girl of supreme fashion, but i know when something just doesn't look right at all. guess i should get back to making some more art today.
a bee just flew up to my computer here and rested on the top of my screen, i was just thinking about how much i loved it when the cicadas were here in full effect in 2004, right when i birthed azyah. i was miserable on the couch, stuck watching re-runs of laugh tracked 80's and 90's sitcoms as i faded away from nap to nap, an endless hell of television and horrible life-lessons taught through full house, al bundy, and nighttime network news shows. at least the simpsons were on; the jokes on that show don't need a laugh track added because they are fucking funny. the show came on every night at ten and eleven as a thank-you from the television people for putting up with their bad programming all day. i never got too mad, it seems they were doing the best they could given that all the materiel they had to work with was horrible, which closely resembles dinner time at my house lately. i have gotten rather creative with boxes and cheap spices.
i don't mean to laugh out loud whenever i see someone riding a segway, but it is so hard to hold it in when someone looks so stupid and they think they are so cool, carrying a leather briefcase, the tail of their corduroy suit-jacket flapping stupidly in the wind. my potato gun is all the way downstairs and i am lazy right now; lucky for them. maybe it's the fact that the wheels of those things are so big, i don't really know what it is, but everyone who is riding one of those things looks completely ridiculous. why don't they just ride a bike? it's way more fun and every time you ride one, you get a little exercise as well. it keeps me from looking stupid and getting a big ass, maybe it can help out the rest of the segway riding population.

but beer tastes so good at nine in the morning, and i love to run in to people i know who feel the same way on a crispy october thursday morning. i was on a strict diet of cranberry juice but made the exception due to who was asking me to make the exception: one of my favorite people who is crazy like i am and i love to hang out with. just can't pass up a high life with a good friend.

(oh my fucking god this guy down on the sidewalk is wearing khaki cargo shorts, an acid-washed jean jacket, a button-up shirt, dress shoes with no socks, with a lighter colored leather briefcase slung over his shoulder. wow, i thought the guy on the segway looked bad, but this guy looks really bad as he makes his way to the bakery to pick up his coffee and muffins. maybe he's just doing the walk of shame.)

fighting the urge to go over to tucker's and have my current favorite thing to eat in the world, my kitchen is full of food but none of it compares...

wondering which place i should go and apply to get a part-time job at only to get turned down yet again and again...

about to work on some art to help pay the bills...

go like THIS

showers end, muggy, the temperature drops and mello tells me a story abnout his past turntable turnovers of shitty dj wanna-be's.... god is full of goodies, they give away weed and things to the cheap cookie makers of the local universe of anderson township, let's all give thanks for all the cookies and milestones. it's the 85th year of being part of the comunity, fuck it, let's all give thanks to the cookie gods... I smell pancakes and paint and markers and the dishes are really piling up in my sink and my apartment really stinks bad. but i have a lot of things to get done this week. the pictures are looking cool, but my boss tells me that i need to go get new pants to wear to work, while he has yet to give me any money for being there, and yet to tell me when i'm going to get my first paycheck, just skirts the question whenever i ask him, but it's a job.... whatever.... whatev's.... the scrubbing bubbles flying around the tub swirling swirling swirling the police chasing an SUV down the highway, what ev's... what ev's...
i finally got my check for being kicked out of my apartment illegally, now i will finally get a camera since my old one got stolen from my locker at my old job.
he says, 'i'm a dj and sometimes i drink,' i need my glasses to go like THIS.