i just saw this old email from l. when our house got broken into in new orleans. the subject is "our house is not safe." i remembered reading it for the first time and being like duh. and then panicking it was going to be about ghosts. what is it like to be a man who hasnt considered that his house might not be safe until it is burglarized? i, and most women i know, have never really felt safe EVER cuz our bodies are being threatened constantly with invasion. being the "weaker sex" is a crock of shit. im in the middle of a personal revolution. i accidentally took 10 grave vows at the zen center. now i have to be more aware of my dharma.
i just made tuna casserole though. it was so good. potato chip topping. i feel like betty crocker.
staying conscious is always harder than i think its gonna be, and slipping out is always easier! but it's so sweet when it's on! depression is at the corner of my perception. i see it there, but it hasnt snuck over my whole view like a cataract.
i had this awesome idea to make a video tape of all the quicki mart men who have ever sold me eating disorder crack saying what it is they sold me. dude up the street would be like
"chocolate chip ice cream sandwich
chocolate chip ice cream sandwich
hostess cup cakes
lil debbie
airheads
can of peas"