I situate myself within a sea of things…. my eyes bleed into themselves, making bleary, poisonous solutions. It’s like mushing things together into one conglomerate mass of MESS.
Whenever I am in my studio, I play this game where I think about what I keep in my room if I had my way.
Here is the list that I have come up with, to date:
dust bunnies (a colony, with their own politics),
cigarette butts soaked in chamomile tea,
watermelon five gum wrappers,
flower vases with flower patterns,
a yellow rocking chair,
dead grass (with the smell),
Glass fruit,
the drape,
a fake fur coat,
motorcycle chain dripping with oil,
freshly filled spoonfuls of pesto bismol,
sleeves of arrowroot cookies,
a robot with huge tits,
sewing pins (the ones with the fake pearl tops),
glow-IN-THE-DARK stars,
HOTPINK gumballs,
And porn MAGS.
Lots and lots of porn MAGS.
Also, maybe a flower crown. And a paper one too. And a bloody nose.
I have an obsession with the dis-genuine. ThE STUFF FAKE STUFF. I WISH I HAD A pair of huge plastic tits, a smoke dangling out of cherry-red-advil-coating coloured lips, coffee brown stained veneers reflecting what little light there is falling through the window, with gummy-bear-transparent fake nails, and hair curlers round so tight around barley blonde hair.
eating boxed macaroni and cheese for dinner every-night.
drip peach juice down MY chest and think about taking a bath with water so salty OUR skin begs for air.
to own a shotgun.
to tie that shotgun above my mantle with a STRAND OF A BLEACH BLONDE WIG and call it research.
to own a diamond just to crush it with the toe of a ballet flat.
MAYBE ONE DAY.