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he's driving me mad. he's doing it on purpose. everywhere i go, there he is. he went to my work the day before yesterday looking for 18th century music recordings. i guess the guy who works audio with me thought he was cute because suddenly he was in the audio room smiling at me. (this is not a room that is open to the public.) and that night he went to foxglove and amaranth's band's show at the madhouse. he kept talking to all my friends and why won't he leave me alone? i suddenly understand spree killers. i've been having obsessive thoughts about shooting castor and all the people who are supposed to be my friends but are his friends anyway. it's just an idle fancy. i don't even have a gun. my aunt wants to take me gun shopping. i want a 9mm. i can aim with a 9mm. i learned how when i was 16 or 17 and nightshade and i were going to take over the world. i trained for it. we were going to be a paramilitary force. we were going to kill rapists and instate anarchy. we read so much noam chomsky it dribbled out our ears. i learned how to make letter bombs and pipe bombs, too. i never got to use the knowledge. i've taken up painting. it's the only thing that relieves my anxiety. i've done two so far: a purple girl and a wolf with roses. next i'm doing a collage. i never liked collages until i saw the ones hemlock's grandmother did. her name was eloise smith, i think. she did beautiful collages on canvas that were not just collages but also paintings. they have a heart-rending serenity, like ephedra's violin. today is friday. foxglove, amaranth, their drummer, and i are going to the beach. we're having a painting party with wine and brie. tonight we're taking erotic twenties-style photographs in black and white. on sunday, kore and i are watching needful things and taking erotic thirties-style photographs in sepia. that just leaves saturday for me to go crazy. |