make me an angel that flies from montgomery, make me a poster of an old rodeo, just give me one thing that I can hold onto

I want to channel. I want to tap - beauty, intensity, magic, wonder, god, purity.

Q:How was your day?

A: Fantastic. The earth moved.

Q:Maybe we can let the light follow us into your room?

Glamorously traumatic.

a tiny love poem for me:

you're the idiot

small girl

tiny

pale arms / paler feet

idiot

Listen to Bert Jansch.

Listen to all the old punk rock songs you use to love.

Patrick Fitzgerald "Safety Pin Stuck In My Heart" and The Vibrators "Automatic Lover"

ADORATION -> DESIRE -> E.S.P: MYSTICISM - > RELIGION.

GARDENS -> SEX > PURITY. - THE BUZZCOCKS - FETISH

this city needs a new queen

come on man put your red boots on

oh dear god yes.

I got casted to play Puck in Midsummer Night's Dream this spring at MICA.

Enough said.

Kevin Hannigan

When I first met Kevin all I wanted to do was run away with him. I knew he was so sad, so fucked up and a total mess. I knew what he was doing to himself, what he was eventually going to do to himself. I just wanted to run away with him, I wanted to take him to my house out in Berlin. I wanted to put him in a bath and cut his hair and love him unconditionally. I wanted to make him better. But, I knew better... so, I stayed away from him. I remember one night, after a show with Cory at Robs old Cat & Milk, he had (god knows how) busted open his forehead and was just wandering around outside the show bleeding. I remember sitting him down on the curb and (probably) using my dress or sweater or something to wipe the blood from his face. I remember he was smiling and it meant so much to him that I was so not phased by the whole thing. Every night I'd go out, my whole life, with Kevin in the back of my mind. Perhaps I'd run into him. And every time I did run into him, whenever he was around, I felt so lifted. He made it impossible to keep from smiling.

found letter:

November 1 8:59pm

Sunflower Eyes,

I smoke alone in my room. I watch the smoke curl around my face and wonder: Did you ever think I'd say, on account of you, the days suddenly feel more beautiful? I keep looking at the lamp, I keep forgetting to replace the bulb. All I want is to turn the lights on.

"No matter what life you lead the virgin is a lovely number: cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper, arms and legs made of Limoges, lips like Vin Du Rhône, rolling her china-blue doll eyes open and shut. Open to say, Good Day Mama, and shut for the thrust of the unicorn. She is unsoiled. She is as white as a bonefish."

-Anne Sexton

Don't you try and stop me I cling tightly to this life:

Wildwood No.1:

I live at night. During the day I sleep. During the day I'll die.

I love to get high. Really high. I love to get really high and paint giant flowers.

I wish Andy Warhol was my best friend. Maybe when I have a daughter I'll name her "Andy Howland".

Andy Delihla Howland

(or

Andy-John Howland... No, that doesn't sound good)

I want to have a little girl with a strong mans name. I want to buy her beautiful dresses and perfume and books with big pictures and cameras with film and kittens. I want to teach her about dead rock stars and movie stars and sky stars and tell her about the stars in your eyes. I hope John Girard is alive to meet her. I hope Walker and Claire and Robby and Chris and Chuck can all give her lessons. I hope everyday she is happy. And I hope even her pains are beautiful.