When I was in elementary through some parts of high school, I lived with my mother. Diagonally across from here house is a pretty large wooded area that was later deemed an Audubon nature preserve area. But before that, to me, it was an area filled with myth and evil. When I was in elementary school, I was friends with a girl named Heather. Her family was extremely religious. I’m not sure if her parent constructed the following story to keep her out of the woods, or she did because there was evidence back there that suggested that it was true, but I will tell you what I was told and what I saw and felt in that forest. Heather and I were sitting on a rock in front of the entrance to the woods as she told me the story of a Satanic cult that sacrifice people and animals, and that their place of worship was right through the trees. She said they could do things, like make inanimate objects speak and become possessed by the Devil and that one time she saw a talking broom (which I think is a load of horse shit). Me being the more brave between the two of us, I coerced her into checking things out. Once you passed the entrance to the woods there was a little stream you had to walk over that had a p-lank of rotted wood over it. Through the path to your left was a fire pit area, with fucked up lawn chairs, car tires used as seats, and someone had even turned a few logs into benches. In the center was the fire pit, and scattered around were beer bottles and glass. This place just looked like a few teenagers were getting their kicks, so I decided we press on. About ten minutes later, we came to a clearing, the entrance to which had a plank of wood sticking up from the ground. In my imaginative little brain I was convinced there was once a house there and that it had burned down. As I walked into the clearing my eleven year old brain was blown. There were strange symbols spray painted in red on the trees surrounding the clearing. A fire pit in the center. A burned out mattress (used for sacrifice?) off to the side and decapitated dolls and dolls heads that had been drawn on hanging from the trees. It was a b-horror movie director’s wet dream. I was terrified. I had the strongest urge to get out of there and a horrible feeling in the pit of my belly. We ran as fast as we could and got the fuck out of there. It is a possibility someone had set up the area to play a trick on someone (this was before Blair Witch), but I will never know the truth. It amazes me what goes on in the suburbs.

Here is a link to the official site about it, first listing.


This past weekend I went to the tattoo convention. I spent a lot of time looking at different artist’s work, milling around, and recruiting girls for popporn’s amateur films. However, I fell in love there to…with a store I had been to a few times. Whenever I’ve gone into Smak Parlour, I’ve been so overwhelmed by all the cool things they have in there that I haven’t had the chance to really concentrate, so it was nice that they had a set up with just a select few items from their merchandise. I ended up purchasing a baby pink necklace with a huge pendant that says “BITCH” with little flower appliques and rhinestones. I also picked up a retro cut apron that is pink with gigantic red hearts all over it. I know that fashion is not a topic I usually write on, but this Old City shop (it’s at 2nd and Market Streets) needed to be mentioned. We’ll use this as a first to an upcoming weekly post called “These are a few of my favorite things…” I’ve also posted some pictures of a few items I really like. I’d also like to add that my left tattoo sleeve is coming along great but is healing so it itches like crazy!!

It says “Working on My Novel”…Perfect for me!!!!

-_- “zzzzzz”



death awaits

To me it seems like jury duty is this really cruel social experiment. Send out letters at “random”, and then make all these people sit together in a room and fill out questionnaires. The one I found most disturbing was “have you ever been a victim of a crime?”. Why, yes, sir mister judicial man, I have. Thank you sooo much for bringing up my rape. Now not only am I sitting in a room FULL of strangers, I am also stewing over the fact that the piece of shit was never prosecuted by a jury of MY peers. My peers being women who have been through the same nightmare. The mix of people they throw together in here is very interesting. There’s this guy, diagonal from me, that looks like either my boss from an old job or one of my Drama Studies teachers from college. He’s got a slightly affected voice and mannerisms, I can just hear it from here. The woman to my left looks like someone’s mom, but she’s got this stack of papers that are copies from medical journal so it’s quite possible she’s could be childless or a mom that is a professor or medical professional. This whole process makes me insanely nervous. I don’t even know that I’ll be able to serve not only because I’ve been a victim of a crime, but I’ve had several friends arrested on charges of inciting a riot, drug trafficking charges and weapons possession charges.  I watch too many crime shows and I’m either entire too decisive or extremely indecisive. I’m so awkward and clumsy in these settings. When I went through the metal detector I had the cop bark at me about my cell phone, and I got so shook up it took me about 30 seconds longer to get my shit together than everyone else. The whole thing reminds me of this horror flick I watched where they slowly drove the patients insane after making them fill out questionnaires.



actual inside of a NFTA Buffalo Metro Bus

I have these distinct memories of my father doing really mean things to me when I was sick as a kid. One time I threw up from taking grape kid’s tylenol and got spanked. I wanted a hug once when I was eight and deathly afraid of puking and really afraid and sad, and after I barfed I just wanted a hug and he wouldn’t hug me. Really dumb shit sticks with kids. I barely remember when he was kind to me. This brings up other weird times when I was embarrassed. One time, I was plastered off my fucking face and went over this guy’s house that I was totally psycho over for like three years at like, 4am. I was standing on the corner of his street spinning in circles because I didn’t know where the fuck I was. I was wearing these really tight, light jeans and on the rag. He was trying to keep me from barfing by giving me water and trying to fool around with me at the same time. I was wearing really ridiculous non-period lacy thong underwear and I didn’t realize that as he rubbed my clit, he was spreading blood all over. That is, until I woke up inn the morning, went to the bathroom and saw how gross everything looked…and how stained my jeans were. Fuck. That was the same day he taught me how to ride the bus from his place back to my father’s so I wouldn’t have to borrow the car to do out little fuckfests. He gave me the change and the schedule. The Buffalo Metro buses are filled with a bunch of fucking weirdos and trashy white ladies and loud people. It’s smelly and no fun with a hangover. I rode it a lot to see him after that day. I remember the bus being really hot that particular day and trying super hard not to barf, kinda like the time I rode the 7 from Chinatown, NYC. There was this crazy guy on the bus that wouldn’t shut the fuck up and kept saying fucked up shit to the ladies. This all happened before I lost my mind. After I went crazy, I wouldn’t have been able to deal with this scene at all. I would have totally fucking spazzed.



One day I walked into K Mart and decided I was going to get all new bed sheets and re-do my room so that it didn’t look like a 70’s explosion anymore. So I come across these beautiful sheets, the color of the ocean in the Grand Cayman. That real light aqua blue that reflects off the sand. They have little white designs on them, so instead of sending me back to the time my family went on a cruise, it sends me back to the time I got really high and trudged through a field in the dead of winter in the snow. I was sitting in Emily’s beat up old red rusty car, smoking out of a one hitter and giggling away, talking about A Clockwork Orange. The snow outside started falling more rapidly and to me, it looked like the most gorgeous thing in the world. As I stared out the window I had the greatest urge to go out into it. The sky was this outrageous blue-gray and it all looked fake, like a movie. I hopped out of Emily’s old Buick and stood beside the door staring into the field. Then I began to walk. The snow was up to my knees, as it often falls in the suburbs of Buffalo. But I was so full of amazement I didn’t care. The song “Black Dove” by Tori Amos (I was a big Tori fan in high school) ran over and over in my brain. I twirled in circles as the snowflakes hit my face. Whenever they got near my mouth I licked them off. I fell into the snow, and it felt warm, comforting in this really strange way. Emily was standing with the door to her Buick yelling for me to come back. I made snow angels, I rolled around. I walked away from Emily, and her car. I glided like some kind of snow princess towards our friend Jenny’s house. I wanted to get to the trees, the woods, the fields that followed that were closer to my house. I wanted to take in the beauty. As the high wore off, it got less fun. I realized I was soaking wet, freezing and needed to get into jenny’s house to get dry clothes. Nothing good lasts forever.



The first time I came to Philadelphia was the year I was nineteen. I was still incredibly naive, still believed in way more that hasn’t been completely destroyed at this point.  My childhood friend Molly and a college friend, Nicole who us still a close friend and currently living with me were both residing in Philly. Nicole is always up for a good time, and her and the guy she was dating at the time loved throwing parties. It was actually my birthday weekend and they took me to Mako’s for drinks  because at the time, it was the most lenient bar on South Street. In fact, South Street seemed so much cooler to be back then. I remember Swedish Fish drinks, getting the itis from home made falafel,  and watching Best in Show for the first time. I remember people doing lines of coke off of my ass and tits. I wore a birthday girl crown. I didn’t dress well and I was way heavier than I perceived myself to be. I met this guy, Adam, a friend of Nicole’s boyfriend at the party. He took me into the dark bathroom. We did hand stuff. His cock seemed smaller than when he, on a later date, took me to his house and I fucked him. In their tiny bathroom, Adam told me the story of Tristan and Isolde. I went to his house the next night and had sex to Belle and Sebastian and Neutral Milk hotel. I felt so fucking hip. Then the morning, cam and I threw up because I was so nervous and had never fucked a guy that wasn’t my boyfriend before that. I dry heaved for what seemed like forever. I was incredibly embarrassed. I extended my stay in Philadelphia from one to two weeks. I still had a boyfriend back at college, my longest relationship to this date (one year, one half). He knew something had gone bad. He, to this day, believes Philadelphia has a vendetta against him, as the girl he dated before me came out as a lesbian after moving here. I suppose that if I lost two people to a city, I would feel the same. It took me years to find my way back to Philadelphia. I almost finished college in New York until I was raped and lost my mind for good when my Bi Polar Disorder was triggered. I then had to move back in with my mother in Buffalo to dry out from the alcohol and clean my nose of all the cocaine I had stuffed up there. Then I hated my life there and had a seriously bad time, which led me to selling my car and landing in Philly, where I am to this day.



I’ve been in Brooklyn, NY since Monday night and it’s getting tough for me to want to leave and go back to the daily grind of Philadelphia. The grey, depressing bullshit and my impending con-current psychiatric evaluation with my boyfriend. I already know I’m crazy and depressed. Just gimmie pills and let me leave.  The last few days have been pretty bangin. On Monday I arrived at the Chinatown bus station and my love, Catherine and her brother met me. We went over to Stanton Public and then The Library where we out a ton of songs on the jukebox but don’t remember hearing one we actually requested. Yesterday I spent running the M and J trains back and forth from Brooklyn to Manhattan to Brooklyn and back. I finally found the Ricky’s NYC and bought a beautiful wig, which I wore out last night and it went over real well. We went to Karaoke at Stanton and I sang 99 Problems by Jay-Z and Janis Joplin’s Me and Bobby McGee. Afterwards, my friend Darnell and I swooped over to Happy Endings to meet up with my friend Igor from drivenbyboredom.com for a photoshoot. There we met this interesting duo named Devon and Dana who were doing this whole 80’s thing and had the whole Party Monster rules DOWN. We danced the night away with them and some adorable little girl who’s bowtie I tied. Igor showed up and we did a fabulous photo shoot in the Happy Endings bathroom, which should be good because I’ve gotten off drugs an lost 20 pounds since the last time he shot me. Keep up on drivenbyboredom and play guess who I am, which I’m sure most of you already have. We grabbed the first cab we could find out of there, found a creepy weird packet of pills on the floor of the cab with russian writing out of it that I refused to touch because THEY WERE SCARY. Then, when we finally got back to Brooklyn, the cab driver pretended to be lost, Darnell’s card wouldn’t swipe, the guy kept calling him “my friend” which usually means “you fucking asshole” in Indian. I had to wrestle Darnell’s card out of his hand to get it paid because he almost didn’t pay. The cab drive kept getting out of the cab and scary me. Darnell kept yelling “—- —- let’s go!! we’re not paying this fucking asshole!” so we finally got it paid and they driver asked how much tip and Darnell says “HOW ABOUT ZERO!?”and we rush to the house. I promptly passed out until 2pm. And now here I am snowed into Brooklyn.