Title: Artist

Gender: Female

Age: 22

Sun Sign: Leo

Chinese Sign: Fire Rabbit

Location: Austin, TX

I wear glasses.

I like Art.

The green, the babes, the sparkles…it all out there, in outer space, if you can get there. My brain is stuck in the pot nine days cold…and guess what? no green.
   I feel like a cigarette; good for the lungs, not for the disposition.   I've got friends, they all think I'm really hip. They come to my house and do drugs that don't exist…they get strung out in my living room and tell me about some new form of idolatry they are trying.  They all say “what a trip!” I assure you it's true.
    So, when I die (I'm probably incorruptable) people will come and kiss the sides of my glass coffin; and all my hipster junkies will commit suicide because they'll be to inspired to do anything else.

to M. R. Gilchrist,

I wandered down your way about nine times and there was the antidote, every time: a pocket full of sprouting rice. I suckled from the delicate blooms that have nourished me before. But, now I am full. That’s how life treats me, disease and your cure; it’s because of him. Now I have you thank for all the relief.

 It’s a little unbearable to realize to this so late, I suppose I’ve had it coming.  I can’t tell you how many times he has ruined my life! Ruin is the wrong word—it’s more like some kind of scamp got into my system and wriggled all around until it injected doom juice straight into my blood.  I am now suffocating. How else do you say it?  There’s little to say about my condition, it is hopeless like a gang of wild panthers.

                Thank you for sitting here to console me in these last days. I know your schedule barely allows you to enjoy a simple slice of time-pie now and again. I too can feel the pain of being caught up in the meaninglessness that I am force-fed each and everyday.

 I hope you will never end up in the red-light district of that which we hold dear; you, perchance, are the only one who saved me from it. The submission to it is so abundant, that a city can barely exist with out it. In fact, in our modern world the whore- mongers are our great kings. Cities exist solely under the seduction of the glowing green greeny-ness (and other various colors) that entrances our children and hushes our spirits. You once again have kept me in resistance. I owe you my free life. 

Yet, he still aches me. He gets under my skin and kicks me in the lungs. He doesn’t play fair, he woos me and tells me he can be trusted then he does it again! He is a miserable hateful, loathsome tumor. I say tumor because we both know he is mine. He is attached to me and I feed him. I wish I could amputate him like a sinning right hand.  But I can’t, and that’s why I need you for the effort.

You are the epitome of everything I wish I was. You are my Ralph Waldo Emerson, I your Henry David Thoreau. My Sun God, I am your heliotrope. I will act and you will whisper. You have given me desire…expectations even. That is worth something.

                Yet another thing, my dear M.R.G., I want you to know this: The final mission is still the stars. The comets and the Milky Way are calling us home.  The bright pinholes that promise so much are waiting.  This is the glitterati appeal: the green, the babes, the sparkles.  There’s a lot of stuff out there, if you can get there.  I know there’s at least one reason to celebrate; I think we’ve almost made it. I deserve a girl flopping around every which way clothed in a G-string and star shaped pasties— why the hell not?  You deserve one too.  You deserve two. That’s what the Earth people get when they are wonderfully successful. But, we aren’t working for the people down there on Earth, the ridiculous ants.  We are working for God. We are working for space! The Earth was forsaken and condemned centuries ago.  That’s why we are leaving; it’s so much storm and apathy, not any sunshine, at least not any that doesn’t kill you (however eventual).

Love and affection for eternity—

Caitlin

Member Since: Tuesday, October 17 2006

Last Visit: 429 days ago.

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