13 minutes to January 20th, 2009:
- A strange taste in my mouth: After smoking Home Ganja for the first time in quite a while, then taking a hit from one of my mom’s Parliament Light 100s clippies, and, once I exhale, shutting my trap for a moment, I taste… Dried fruit. Strawberry, maybe, or Rasberry-Blueberry.
And I just got back from Sherri’s.
And then almost burning the house down.
And then trying to… Rescue? Steal? Kidnap? my mother’s “Leads” envelope.
Then finally getting to my room safely. (Thank God!)
- I don’t
(“You Could Have Whateva You Like” and then “Just Dance.”)
More than just poop.
(And shampoo. And instincts.)
Is more than just poop.)
- Anticipating that it’s going to happen, but being impressed when
My brain settles in on The Bad Touch.
- Harmless jokes about a fat girl’s
(Hash browns and a turd, of course!)
-Obsessing over every presentation aspect of my iTunes, I then make the choice to leave my volume on a confusing setting that defeats the purpose of what I’ve been doing. VWP VIPs wouldn’t be able to figure out how to make the volume be normal, and they would therefore stop liking me.
- Understanding, miraculously, the difference between children and adults. The difference is experience in regards to the same problem that a child faces, and then the one that the adult experiences after years full of opportunities to discuss and examine the meaning and worth and significance of the problem they had faced when she used a computer for the first time.
- Suddenly, The Blow isn’t good enough to listen to when I’m fucked up? Ha ha!
- When I find myself unable to deal with finding myself looking at a document I have open, feeling like I was in the middle of something, but don’t see an easy way to find out what it was, and giving up and opening internet explorer because I know I’ll figure it out eventually.
- …And it turns out I was bumming around on Kimya Dawson’s face book, after I had already found out the fact I had gone to her profile for, and understanding that just because you’re using the internet, it doesn’t mean you’re not going to have to do some work to get where want to go.
- I got the illest foods in mah knapsack
Nothing you can give me can ever compare
Got ‘em when I found a buck in my wallet
I’ve got the illest foods
You can’t compare!
I got reese’s
And a Fruit Loops rice krispie!
I got nasty juice
I got one sip of chocolate milk
I got some orange rinds.
You can’t compare!
- Oh my god. Someone just stole the 5 Combos I had in my bag! Who the fuck would want my bag-bottom Combos?!
- Well, I got one of them, and some SweetTarts.
- Goddamn! This Combo makes me want to see my dentist!
- “Jumping out of a 2-story window is like slitting your wrists to show that you’re bleeding.”
- This Really Happened:
Stoned, in the Big Bathroom, I see that the toilet paper is on the toilet paper holder. I immediately realize: It wasn’t there when I was pooping, but right after I got back to my room, my mom went into the bathroom and didn’t come out for a while. And I went to smoke for long enough that she could have gotten a call from Dr. B. And they’ll tell me in the morning, but I already knew.
I knew he was done. And I consider what I should say or do, when my head starts to fall back involuntarily. I understand, then, that Boomer’s biggest contribution to the world was Boomer Repose.
Following directions like a baby, I let my head continue to fall back, and I take a moment to reflect on the following things about the original performance i am reenacting:
- The pain in my neck.
- The fact that I thought about babies, motherhood, and the Virgin Mary for probably more than 10 minutes while I sat there with my neck draped over the back of the toilet seat cover, staring at the hanging plant in the bathroom window.
- The issues that come with pushing and pulling.
“…I didn’t think I’d be able to tell it in a story, so I just showed you.”
- And feeling the ins and outs of consumption and digestion, and knowing what’s in me. And knowing what I’m made of.