I'm kinda colorful.
[the degradation of a space]
I’m surrounded by junk, circled in by massive amounts of decorative
uselessness. Everything that crowds this space I acquired for free,
either I found it or stole it or made it or someone gave it to me.
Garbage blends in with possessions, lists & lists of disposable
things all suffocating one tall room. Threads, buttons, ribbons,
beads, jars, teapots, candles, salt shakers, soda bottles, paperclips,
records, coffee cans, suitcases, stuffed animals, dollhouse furniture,
paper bags, lawn ornaments, candy, other people’s clothes, fake hair,
markers, envelopes, plastic spiders, ceramic frogs, potted plants,
small cups, lunchboxes, voodoo dolls, impossibly small mirrors, hair
clips, marbles, wiggly eyes, shoeboxes, socks, paints, jewelry,
sunglasses, yo-yo’s, clocks, stamps, wind-up mice, jacks, pencil
toppers, matchbooks, clothespins...when I look around at all these
things I can’t ignore the intentions I had for them once & the
neglect I suffocated their potential with, guilt stares back at me
from every inch of clutter, I close my eyes to it. Here is a museum of
waste. I am the center of the showcase. My hair a gnarled mess, my
clothes stained with months worth of awful adventures, perched on the
corner of a dusty couch, decorated with sleeping cats & failed art
projects. Papers landing awkwardly everywhere I look, like a tiny
tornado tossed them up & down & side to side durring an
invisible brainstorm, unorganized notes & ideas trampled under a
million sets of dirty shoes. Dishes pile up on top of eachother in
towers, they look like castles scattered across a waring countryside
in clusters all over floors & surfaces, decomposing food
congealing on empty plates & containers, a mixture of rotten
smells contaminating the air I fall asleep breathing & wake up
choking on. My blankets are cold, too soaked with filth to hold any
warmth, I curl into myself & shiver through the night, tossing
& turning & swatting at imaginary bugs making my skin itchy
& stingy. Crumbs & lint feel like glass & wire. I wake up
desperate & anxious, in a panic to clean myself & my dying
living space. So unbeleivably overwhelmed by the work that’s cut out
for me, I leave my bedroom before anything can be done for it. I don’t
even open the curtains anymore.
I escape through a hole in my fence, leading to the empty house next
door. Most of my cats are already there. I catch my breath on the
steps of the porch. I read the bizarre messages I left myself in my
sleep, when I opened my eyes there was a pen in my hand, my arms
covered in sentence fragments, my desperate subconcious lashing out.
In all my recent nightmares there has been a trend: I frantically try
to photograph the images of my subconcious adventures while I dream
them, I am always disappointed when I wake up to realize I left the
camera in my head. Every night I try to go back & recover it. I
guess these chicken scrath scribbles on my skin are my reaction to
that. I can only make out a few words, "baby powder, pacify’d,
the saddest little pajamas in the world. Drink your pediasure it’s
delicious."
I wish I knew why that was so important. I sit on the neighbor’s steps
& transfer these notes to paper. Dizzy. Annoyed. I give up, follow
my cats through a second hole on the other end of the fence, to a
second empty house. This one still has some furniture. The door is
unlocked. It has the exact same floorplan as our house. Only it’s much
more kept up. The floors are new hardwood. The bathrooms are marble. I
walk to the bedroom in the back, identical to mine. Thouroughly
evacuated. Completely empty. I sit in the middle of the open floor
& listen to the echoey sounds of another vacant house. All the
space & silence I need to think. If my house were abandoned.
Comments and faves
magic alice added this photo to their favorites. (45 months ago)
Corey Brindley (44 months ago | reply)
wow. that was awesome. in a not awesome way. if that makes sense.
Thomas Rosenzweig (43 months ago | reply)
Have you thought about shutting the door on your room and moving to another room either in your house or one of the abandoned houses and fill that room up with myriads of motley momemtos (you would have to live in each room as you go).Work your way through each room in your street....neighbourhood.....in 15 ,20 years you could go back and visit each room.People would come from far and wide to experience a part of Dust Bunnys decorative uselessness.
Some on might ask "Do you have a.....? "
And you could say" Yes ,i think i do ."
And then you can try and find it ,while sifting through memories ,experiences,past lives, your collection of staplers and solar powered calculators......
roadkill rabbit (43 months ago | reply)
i'll make a note of that
icy_d^o^b added this photo to their favorites. (43 months ago)
Opal in the rough (43 months ago | reply)
you write beautifully.
PleaseBelieveInc (42 months ago | reply)
wow, you are ORGANIZED!
Lola Fries, helh, Tales from the Rainbow Room, anneke!!!, and 2 other people added this photo to their favorites.
Lucy Alice (29 months ago | reply)
Well, I rest my case.. you are one crazy girl. one that is not scared to be herself. inspiring i must say.
pinkfusion, [eye]detic ₪, and photomagicianhead added this photo to their favorites.
Braxton Wolfgang (25 months ago | reply)
you live in gilroy?
roadkill rabbit (25 months ago | reply)
a few years ago
apdurruti, Riana Dawn., FetusFeces, and taylor winehouse added this photo to their favorites.
This photo was invited and added to the Rainbows, Rainbows, Rainbows group.