so i heard you have that thing, you know what it’s called? “Poverty mentality” except yours is different. you spend and spend and spend but you save and save and save. you are never broke and you are never rich.
what the fuck are you talking about? next you’ll be telling me i have white-guilt.
no no no, no.
“i don’t have time for this mickey mouse, bullshit.”
hey, that was pretty good. i see you have been watching that professional movie, huh?
yes. i can recite the whole script, every scene. it’s up there with the big lebowski for me.
what’s your obsession with that movie all about?
well, it takes maybe two to four viewings to get all the little parts and then maybe ten after that to appreciate them and then maybe watch it two times a week over bong hits, with a friend of course, for the rest of your life. i think i like it ’cause my mum my dad and my brother hated it. that and every line is hilarious.
and why now the professional?
come on. twelve year old natalie portman smokes cigarettes, wears a green bomber jacket and that french guy teaches her how to kill people and he buys her a pink dress and falls in love with her.
oh right, that.
exactly.
so i heard you spent 32 dollars on laundry.
they do a good job. they fold it for you. they eat they sleep and they live laundry. i don’t have time for that, well, i do but you know, i can barely toast bagels or hold pint glasses without them falling out of my hands.
why are you so sad?
i am never satisfied with what i am doing, my work, my creative endeavours, it is never good enough and seems everyone thinks i should be doing something else, like school or some sort of formal training.
why are you so sad?
nothing exciting ever happens to me like, red carpet runway walks or 6am flights to cuba and salmon cream cheese mousse spread on my crostini…
that mousse goes rancid pretty fast.
i know.
what does sadness feel like?
well the sad part is easy, it’s the worrying about being sad that kills me. like, uh oh, when this is over, i’m going to be sad again.
you don’t look so fucking sad to me, you know. fat girls are allowed to be sad, handicapped people, opressed people, foster kids..etc etc
yah i know, that’s why this bites so much – there’s no physical affliction.
what makes you happy?
theme parks and rollercoasters, convertible rides wearing cowboy hats, castles, owning a helicopter, rainbows…
not beine alone?
bingo.
do you want to go to sleep now?
yes please.
