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I’m overwhelmed every minute of every day. If I walk, I am overwhelmed by contact with the earth and the air. If I stare out a window, I am overwhelmed by the complexity and beauty of the world. If I lay down and close my eyes, I’m overwhelmed by the burden of simply existing, by…
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I forget who I am. Frequently. Humanity in general makes me forget who I am by being so boring I can hardly stand to think about the future. Every day is just seven hours of put your head down and wait for the rest of the class to finish the test. We want two things,…
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The bus doors opened. The Fool asked, “Does this bus go to walmart?” “Uh,” said Death, “this bus goes to eternity.” “Do they have laundry detergent in eternity?” the Fool asked. Death said, “Sure. Eternity has everything. Eventually.” “That means no,” called the Hermit, from inside the bus. Death rolled its eyes. “Fine, yes, from…
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Brain bad.Full of bees.Not busy bees. Truant bees. Delinquent bees. Loitering, chewing gum and playing hacky sack in the foyer.Most vexing, these brain bad bees.
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I need to reinvent myself as a person who’s capable of living in this world, having learned the things I’ve learned. Imagine you are looking at a map on your phone, and on the map there are two mountains. One is called Man, and one is called Woman. They’ve got the icon for “mountain” so…
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I was an 80s child, and I remember riding in the car with my parents and seeing a drug store and being confused: by that point I’d practically been pummeled by the moral message that drugs are Bad and we must say No to them. I asked my parents, who said that actually, drugs aren’t…
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I was late to learn how to tie my shoelaces. I wore Vans. I kinda thought that solved the problem, except for one day each year when the elementary school had its field trip to the roller rink, and I would have to ask someone to help me tie the laces on the skates. But…
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the only thing you needto be an artist is to bean embarrassmentwith nothing to declareexcept your derangement and that is a small price to payif you are already outof the closet as aqueer grotesquerywith no tangible assets
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i’m anxious to feelat first nothing at all but thenwith a passing thoughtof you my heart races!why does it do thatand do i want it to slow downor beat faster? i should tell you butmy words, my will, my mind,have been atomized.my soul is a boiling soup.i can’t think when i feel.i can’t feel when…
Mad Aunt Violet 