when we were in mexico for christmas someone broke into our house. there was a kid taking care of the cats, but then that happened. poor kid. he lived in a house a couple blocks away from ours. i only saw the inside of his house once. they had a white baby grand piano their living room. cross my heart and hope to feel better.
i always wanted to know how to play the piano. no one taught me. i don’t you know why. circumstances being as they were, i should have learned and become a master of the instrument. i’m instrumental. in doing what? why? instrumental in my own destruction.
when the thoughts are flying, i paint. i get high and paint. i forget everything. literally! disassociate from my own mind from the pleasure, the pain, the angst, the little hurts, splashes of joy, buckets of rage…it all slips away in the xanax stupor.