OPHELIA (CHORUS/HAMLET):
I am Ophelia. The one the river didn’t keep. The woman dangling from the rope. The woman with her arteries cut open. SNOW ON HER LIPS. The woman with her head in the gas stove. Yesterday I stopped killing myself. I’m alone with my breasts my thighs my womb. I smash the tools of my captivity, the chair the table the bed. I destroy the battlefield that was my home. I fling open the doors so the wind gets in and scream of the world. I smash the window. With my bleeding hands I tear the photos of the men I loved and who used me on the bed on the table on the chair on the ground. I set fire to my prison. I throw my clothes into the fire. I wrench the clock that was my heart out of my breast. I walk into the street clothed in blood.
I think I love Hamletmachine.
This is why I don’t have house parties anymore. That shit ended up on my barbeque.
Tops weekend. Spent most of it pretending it’s appropriate to just wear stockings and a jumper when meeting new people. Birthday cuteness and the world’s most dapper gentleman at Kawa with F. King. I am terrible at being a real person but being an unreal one is working now?
Someone come over and watch Breaking Bad or I am going to sleep at 8pm. I HAVE MULLED WINE, BITCHES.
Cats love new haircut selfies, true story.
BASED ON TRUE FACTS!
mother & son →
Currently on repeat in my room. Really, really good record.
Huge ego boost, my listening party watercolour has the most likes on the Red Paintings page. People from the internet like my paintin’! Haha.
So-oo-ooon.
Taking a break from being a semi-responsible person to paint and write. FUCK THE SYSTEMMMM.
(yes, this means I completely failed to get a materialist feminist analysis of the Post Porn Modernist Show and Hamletmachine done on time… nobody is surprised.)
I just spent all day trying to decipher my message bank’s idea of what message someone left… I basically feel like Sherlock Holmes for working it out. Fucking abstract.
Today was uber frustrating. So I bought myself some new paints and a canvas for this weekend, aw yiss.
