Blue-haired Grand petite called Salvador Nebula. I don’t know who he is.
Horses fucking on a yard. They steam. Bear bare le jardin.
I will be back as soon as I can. I can’t stand to watch. Mischievous,
ambiguous and nefarious dissent that is who he is, someone
yelled on the phone, delusional
Do you dare?
Masochistic need to destroy yourself, the child. Like ever and never going away.
Do you dare to look at it? To look. It is down to earth. It is a thing, it is a fright and strange layers of pleasure.
Perversions and something worth trying, even saying it is an ache. Desire to let go of consequences, of obligations, of anything
but dirty ideas.
The result is that the subconscious is lost (little girl rationally recognizes her fate). ROSE.
You do surprise me and guilt is a place. Blame in your shoes. It has started, it will never stop. Ya.
How do you do it? This chaos, this
You have travelled much, how come your world is so small? But it isn’t, you just don’t see me. I drove and drove.
Anthill, misty mountain, chill, coffee, gas station, me clothed in layers excavating like something that was.
What about me? Nothing. Powder and makeup. Of some kind. That tower of mine, lit like a snowy tree by one intense led light, ad or something.
outward balloon bulge protrude protrudes. bulge?
Black Sabbath was flying stoned
Color is black.
What is with your hair?
Eat hamburgers and drink beer like ordinary people.
How ordinary..Death by drunken asphyxiation, death by misadventure, death by boredom, death by Split Beaver. Well, I never.
Setting these fucking pyro things at seven gates of Hell. We were rehearsing because of red clouds of smoke.
Writing Satan’s love songs to have a breakthrough, we were really screwed.
Women wanted to do certain things with us which had never happened before.
No rest for the wicked.
Characters immortalized in denim and leather.
Man who is a lie will not do.
It was metallers who were having to look elsewhere to find anything heavy.
Shirt, gouache on paper, 2010