“Grace Miceli puts ridiculous images with pop culture artifacts. It is absurd. Drew Barrymore tells us to date babies. She would know. Drew Barrymore is America’s greatest actress. She’s fun and doesn’t care what anybody thinks of her. Hope she makes out with Megan Fox. If she makes out with Megan Fox I think Ms. Fox should pay for the Oreos. I’m just saying Megan is pretty well-to-do. “
Baby Jong-il likes girls. They get to wear hairbows. He likes gangs. They’re violent. He really likes the illuminati. They’re elitist. They can get away with murder. So Baby Jong-il is really excited about the first volume of the Illuminati Girl Gang. These are his favorite parts:
See what people don’t understand is that you and I now have the same closeness that I would have with my drug dealer. You bring it and I take it all in and then it wears off and you leave and I’m left on my own, my immediately family do not live here.
So now I’ve had a valium to deal with all this news and I’m thinking of the men who only exist in literature and I hate your endless comparisons with yourself and Heathcliff and Patrick Bateman because you know I’m turned on by badness and psychopathy. I don’t know if it’s morning or evening and I don’t tend to care today.
I’ve spent all day considering doing a teaching degree because suddenly I feel like I need to grow up. Everyone’s got kids now. I could probably teach them.
My friend rings me and asks if I’ve taken drugs and I said no just valium, but I feel like I can never ever be drunk again just in case I hear some huge news again and most times i’ve heard huge news I’ve been pretty drunk. That’s because I’m always drunk. I drink for lots of reasons and of course you are one of them because you never go away and why would you, when I don’t let you. You shouldn’t even be that important to me anyway you weren’t even meant to be anything at all. I was told you probably wouldn’t be around for long but you stuck and stuck and now you’re indelibly part of my terrible world and you make it all tinged with the colours of you.
if we played word association together I feel like our names would be the answers to everything because if we don’t love each-other properly we move on to loving ourselves because at least we’re good at that. Well, I’m not, but you’ve got a lot to teach me.
It will be father’s day soon, I expect that’s ringing around your head now. I expect you’ve bought yourself a little gift or maybe the girl will and pretend it’s from the baby and it will be funny and sweet and sentimental and you’ll probably cry and so probably will I.
I feel like you will need to see your psychiatrist again very soon. I feel like I need to see mine too. I wish our heads worked better. I wish we worked better. Everything about you is inconvenient but then that’s always the way with drug dealers. You show up whenever you want because you know I am addicted to the nice things you say to me and I crave adoration like I crave the mood stabilisers I take and how I can feel myself getting too full of fast and bizarre thoughts when I don’t take them, thoughts like how I want to do a PGCE and have a baby even though I am only 23 and I would definitely have a nervous breakdown and that child would hate me and that child just like everyone else in my family will also be mentally ill and you’re going to be better at this than I ever will be.
I don’t know what to talk to you about any more but then it’s not really polite to try and have a friendship with a drug dealer because you’re not suddenly going to start getting free drugs and you’re not suddenly going to start coming without a cost and the price of you does not end at the owning of you and I don’t feel like I’m demeaning you by saying that because you very much like to be owned.
I wonder what would happen if I started wearing black lipstick again. Maybe only thin girls can pull that off.
I wonder what would happen if I started using again. I wonder what would happen in a world where you’re not in it.
Doesn’t really bear thinking about does it darling? The absence of you thing, I mean, not that lipstick thing. What time are you coming over? And why do you keep such unreasonable hours?