more from the man with the sick cam

Here are more from Jerome. Photo genius.

raining kitty puppy times ten

I like the rain. I'm not allergic to it. I embrace it. If it were November and icing perhaps I wouldn't have run out with a tank top and my grandpa's old blue windbreaker, but still. His windbreaker is wet. It smells like maybe he did. He's been dead 3 years now. I wear my other grandpa's ring on my index finger. Old things from people I love make me feel safe.

today is good. my armpits smell wet. here is the photo of my blue windbreaker wetness.

white bread wanderings and smash fingered typing

I keep promising I will construct this mini mantra of sorts...

On one hand we have a pretty empty appartment, needing a good cleaning. The other, a sick little belly. Then there's Eddie, who keeps calling and calling and calling and apparently needs some humiliation in terms of a beating, which he actually asked me for. He also asked if he could clean my appartment, but naked. These little slaves chasing me around is kind of disturbing. He swirls into town perhaps once every two weeks or so, and I swear, he only comes here to see if I will actually show up for these drink dates I haphazardly agree to.

Then there's Brandon, who just socked my heart against the wall so bad it fucking hurts to even think about it. Ahh, the joys of sifting through the boys in the online dating catalog. I'm kind of over it. Though I continue to get modeling jobs, albeit unprofessional, they are still jobs. That is how I have been surviving. Eating my pretty little face almost daily. That's 3 possible jobs in 5 days. Oh well. I need to make some fucking money off my little face while it's still pretty ...