I had a dream that I couldn’t get any satisfaction then I woke up and googled Bjork and PJ Harvey. They’re not married, but in my dream, they got married. After the ceremony PJ ate Bjork and they turned into glitter jellyfish and then a chocolate bunny filled with marshmallow stuffing. It was a fun dream, filled with the horrors of chocolate and science fiction, glitter and the absence of ponies. Like the origin of antimatter isn’t scary enough. We are all surrounded by chocolate and hungry mouths and sparkly things that want to taste our gooey insides. Mom is asleep. Amanda B. is asleep. I’m thinking about jumping in their bed and tickling their toes till they beg for mercy. I decided to lay in bed and count the cracks in the ceiling cause it gives me satisfaction even when I’m all alone.
Mom says I gotta go back to school but I don’t wanna go. She says I need to get educated so I don’t grow up dumb. She bought me a new Huffy bike from Target for X-mas but I know the big kids at school will make fun of me because it’s a boys bike. I hate boys. They smell like wet goat. (That line is for you Jessie.) Mom wants me to be a businessman when I grow up but I want to be a hooker like her, or a winged-beast perhaps, like the flying dog in the Neverending Story. I don’t ever want to end or go to bed. No ending for me, no silence to come. I know, I’m going off track but it’s my last day of vacation and mom says I need to get my head in gear. What kind of gear, I ask. The fucking gear I’m gonna put on your head, she says. Now get off the Internets. I don’t want you looking at porn again. Mom wants me to log off now. Brush my teeth. Get ready for bed. I just want to listen to PJ Harvey. (Please note: the following is best read with PJ Harvey’s “To Bring You My Love” in the background.) I want to float away with Ophelia like Noah’s Ark. We’ll wave bye bye to the Jesus freaks next door who want my chops. I want to be a noblewoman from Denmark too, just like my grandmother, bold and beautiful. Gutsy. I want to be someone’s sweetheart and someone’s only hope one day too. One day I’ll fly away, or float, without my bike. I’ll build a cottage out of sandstone or regular stone or whatever is around. I’ll invite all my LBGT friends home. It will be nice. We’ll build a moat and curse God above. But, for now, I’ve got to get ready for bed. Mom’s on the can cursing like a son of a bitch. I might just scare the shit out of her for kicks. See you soon.