Archive for September 5th, 2009

Daily Batman: Enter Catwoman

September 5, 2009

“An hour and forty-five minutes for a pizza? What the fuck are you doing, curing the pepperoni yourselves?!”

(E kitty + Julie Newmar = ❤ 4everrrrr)

Advice: Come as you are

September 5, 2009

“I’d rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not.” –Kurt Cobain



Mall Madness

September 5, 2009

Got my harr did, but beforehand I had some fun at that there ol’ mall. I bought a wedding shower present for my friend who is planning my party today; it felt really good to turn my attention to her, she has been doing a ton for me and it improved my mood to return the love.

I also popped in and paid a little liberating visiting to the door of a stall in the Macy’s bathroom:


Yes, do it. With “fancy catsup.” EAT THEM. They have it coming.


Then in the women’s lingerie department at Macy’s there was this:



Why don’t you go tattoo that on yourself, hipster? Looking at that ironic perfection, it was like all my thoughts were magically coalesced into an unintentional concrete example of my every rant! That is just exactly what. That is just exactly what. You are plastic poseurs, hipsters, and you number in the thousands and are cast from a totally un-unique mold. Love it. I don’t have to feel bad and awkward and like I am the uncool big sister at the family gathering as I walk the mall, because I can remember I am just looking at narrow-eyed unhappy mannequins and hope for their sakes that sooner or later they wake up and break out of their plaster shells. Then we can all be happy together.

And finally, the Mouse Who Sold The World.

Again: that is just exactly what. Dreams for sale! I believe we should tell children the real fairy tales and not this watered-down materialistic nonsense, because children are incredible and they can stomach them much better than you suspect.

I am feeling better. I am ready to have a great time with people who love me. I am thankful again for my sheltered little nook of the world where people suffer my folklore and give me the space an E kitty needs to keep from going mad and clawing out her own throat.

Party monster

September 5, 2009

I’ve never been much of a party person if the subject of attention is myself. Also, I like understatements.

Today there is a party for me that my mother and my friend have planned for me. I’m going to get my hair done. These are all basically alien concepts to me. All the sentences that I just said, especially the ones having to do with “party for me” and “get my hair done,” are things I pretty much say maybe once a year, or once every few years even.


Last year on my birthday I went with my husband to see The Dark Knight in IMAX and later my mother-in-law made spaghetti. I was so overwhelmingly sad to be away from my friends and family that I cried by myself in the kitchen when we got home. Today they will all be here, talking and laughing and eating and standing around the backyard full of conversation they want to have with me. Faced with that kind of scrutiny, I kind of wish I was back there in the dark kitchen, crying with my head in the freezer.



I love parties, I love to blend and play and laugh and joke around with my friends. It’s just when the attention gets so sharply focused my way, I feel undeserving, ingrateful, I feel like there is a sword getting sharpened somewhere and it is all ten seconds from going to crap, and everyone will see the real me and what a godforsaken loser I am that they are wasting their time on. I’m still not accurately explaining why I’m unhappy when I should be so grateful and excited. Parties for me make me inarticulably sad. I hate that I feel seven right now. I hate that I can’t be cheerful. I hate that I want to hide. I am being a jerk right now.


I just don’t like the pressure of parties which are for me. They make me want to cry and hide. The more people who are watching me and wishing me well, the more I feel like I am sure to fail. I will come back to this later with something more upbeat to say. I’m sorry. This just bums me out.

It happens: Back off, reality

September 5, 2009

“Where’s your will to be weird?” –Jim Morrison


A confession: Lately I’ve begun to carry a sharpie with me and write graffiti pretty much everywhere. I may begin taking pictures of it and putting them up here, I’m not sure.

I don’t really call it “graffiti,” I call it “liberating negative space.” So many blank, industrial canvases surround us while our minds teem with thoughts and ideas and dreams and doubts.

I don’t see what I am doing as vandalism, because I feel that my messages are called into being by the space itself, and that makes them worth reading, which makes what I am doing necessary.

The writing in this particular picture is not my work, but I like the messenger’s style.