Sunday, February 19, 2017

broKen reCord

Dreams have been strangely vivid and eviscerating lately. My dreamscape is The Walking Fucking Dead. This morning after watching the first hour of "Lolita" (the black and white original) I took a nap and dreamed I woke up in this hotel room in San Francisco. I looked out the window. The Golden Gate Bridge was just across the street. I couldn't believe my tremendous fortune. My son was with me. Walking around the hotel I realized I was in a much better, more baroque version of the San Francisco hotel I was evicted from last September for posting too many pictures on Instagram and failing to tip the maids. I saw my god awful former friend and her god awful mother working the front desk. Even in dreams there is no escape! I was told that my credit card would likely be insufficient and I would have to pay $500 in cash. Then paint was pouring down on me in pretty rainbow streams from the ceiling. I should have been laughing. Suddenly I was the star of a Duran Duran video! But no. Me being me, I was sobbing and blubbering apologies. I'm so sorry for being poor! I'm so sorry for being ignorant white trash from the North Texas sticks! "Hillbilly," the only man I ever truly loved called me on occasion. How are you going to truly love a motherfucker who calls you "hillbilly"? Hell if I know. Ask Freud.

There's a quote that will correctly be attributed to me when I've been dead for a few centuries and motherfuckers are finally buying my art and books. "Ax murderers are better than writers. They only kill you once." Fuck with my peace of mind or break my hillbilly heart and damn straight I'll write about it. You might even find yourself in one of my self-published books! Oh the GLORY. Live by the sword. Die by the sword.

Original art for sale. Books for sale. Donations ecstatically accepted. PayPal is

MuchaS GRaCiaS,
Misti Velvet Rainwater-Lites
b. in Bridgeport, Texas on February 17, 1973 at 6:29 p.m.

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