Polish

POLISH

On a night that I stayed up til the six a.m with insomniac creativity, I painted my toenails.

My toenails used to grow inward and get infected. Pus and blood would ooze out. It was painful to endure but even more painful to treat. So I would usually let them rot and stink in my brown blood-crusted socks as long as possible. My doctors said I had the worst ingrown toenails they'd ever seen.
I finally got them so infected that the roots fell out. So the doctor lined the bed of my toe with rat poison and now I will never have another toenail on my left foot, and my right toenail will always be thin and short.

So I painted them with sparkly red nail polish. I did a horrible job, cause I don't usually do this. I like how covering my scars with glitter and color and still doesn't make it look pretty. Another reflection of society? Or I did it cause I was bored.

The paint came off in a few days, but showering in the dorm showers was a little embarrassing.

Another thing I can do with my toes is suck them:

The Happiest Photo in the World

The Happiest Photo in the World


My darkroom photo professor assigned portraits. I took pictures of Beth, Holly V. as studio portraits and K as an environmental portrait.
My prof liked my photos, but not my prints so he made me redo the originals today. He taught me how to use the parts of the photo enlarger that I didn't know. An hour later, my result was the happiest photo in the world.
No picture I have ever taken has made me as happy as the one of K. It's even hard to say any of my other work (writing, drawing) exceeds the pride and joy I felt for this print.


I'm really happy.

ABOUT THE PHOTO: CLICK TO ENLARGE: I took a picture of K in her kitchen applying makeup leaving a stream of (fake) blood trickled down her cheek. She was wearing weird purple gloves and a nice black blouse. The film did not dry correctly, and there are weird scratches and watermarks on the print. I love it more that way. I wanted this photo to be creepy, and it is beautiful at the same time.

I could easily say that the blood represents something anti-corporate or anti-establishment about makeup, but I'm not sure that was entirely my aim. Honestly though, when I read fashion mags I get very nightmarish images of what is really going on in between pages. Draw your own conclusion, if you will.

bloody nose dreams

I was having some tough sleep last night.
Strange and weird dreams about train stations and the cops and stealing from art shows with my invisible friend.

I had a dream that really disturbed me and I woke up in the middle of it with a bloody nose.
I instantly forgot most of the dream.
I said to myself, "It was about her, I'm glad I'm forgetting."

I woke up again because the people down the hall were slamming doors or knocking over furniture.
And I forgot everything else in the dream, including whom I was forgetting.

In some ways I love that. In some ways, I don't.