Posted: Thursday, January 29, 2009 | |

it's at that age- how long ago it seems, a terrestrial clusterfuck dream, where the intelligent become haunted (women especially, creatures in their own right) and try and test the world's capacity. How real rips become if you pull hard enough, if there is anyone out there at all that's on your wavelength, because you are half 'good god where are the minds' and half wondering if a mind is a good thing to have. Always attracted young to damaged beings, and it's always either or. Either you get out quick when you realize that despite being 13, 14, 15, if you continue like this, you'll be dead in a year, or you lose the capacity for ego and choice and give into the flood. I was the former, Leah the latter. I met her as a young rebel, and I met her again last year, well before Paris, as an ex prostitute living in a crack den, as an old woman.

I forget that time easily, because in order to live an unhaunted life, mind glosses over ex maybe paths and makes them into thread for a seamless result of your right now;, this reminded me.

wir kinder vom bahnhof zoo, english title Christiane F

My first love were whores in bloom; lipsticked virgins, madonnas, martyrs. I believe if you are around these nymphs you never forget them, they are your first love, your first wrenching, your first fuck- and it always stayed with me, it always will. First love as a lolita, a stable ground compared to a siren- sex was this, she was sex and god, didn't we all know it, so we all got drunk and high enough to stare at her passed out in white boyshorts and socks.


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