february 17 2024

blood boils like sludge in large vats of fat and meat and hard cartilage. i’m on the ledge of something Different and i want to jump. i’ve got teen fever disease and i hate this stupid world and all its fake ass posturing. i don’t fucking care about the political and economic state of this first world shithole right now. i just want to make my art forever. i just want to shop til i drop and gag on endless Amazon orders burying me alive in my top floor loft apartment in the city centre overlooking an empire in the middle of collapse, perfume wafting through my bedroom. i’m covered in silver and Prada and deluxe Swarovski pedicure. my algorithm really knows me. i make so much money it makes me nut every day.

this is a dream.

reality is that there are people dying all over this wretched planet and i will work until i die but i don’t mind because i love to love and i love to live through the material and everything my eyes can see, all the sand my hands can hold. you only get one life, you only get one chance to sit in your studio and listen to your lover hum to himself while he moves around the pots and pans to make a candlelight dinner for two. i’m mad as hell but i have to see beauty everywhere.