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journal entry of a fool
i sit here smoking tobacco, bound in anxiety over being arrested, on parole, on drink and i am dropped back into the dungeons, and forgotten for a month. i think of last night, and the last five years, thinking of all my friends, who are users, and my life, poverty, incarceration, hunger, alcoholism, drug abuse. rarely do i find anything on television that does not glamorize some form of decadence, which is odd, since the dirt of this country is founded on the prohibition of the very. bound in codependence, my old lover came by my frigid basement last night, bringing with him the old catholic temptation, weed, and the flimsiest of corruptors, splat, a dj for youth drug culture parties, who spreads whatever plague he might have unto whoever is most easily corruptible at any given time, without giving any thought to repercussions or consequence. as old lover, splat, and katt sat in the basement smoking the old roach out of an empty beercan i dumped in the sink, i sat facing this computer monitor, chain smoking and holding my breath, terrified of being incarcerated again, terrified of the measly plant working its way into my sad insignificant blood stream. they finished, and biere and another, slave, emerged from the snowy damp streets of ohio toting a three dollar bottle of whiskey, which they took shots from. biere and splat grew cruel in their drunken haze, stomping all over my paintings, calling me a pedophile and a racist, kicking over bottles, laughing maniacally at me as i talked to others who happen to be men, on the internet. splat approaches me with a drink and begins to force it into my face, yelling and hooting at me to swallow the contents. dad, who has always made it his practice to make sure i knew i was a miserable stain on this crusty pair of underwear earth, appears at the top of the stairs for a third time to drill his dog teachings into me for having a social life
"bad bad bad i cant BELIEVE you're doing this"
his harassment and control of me seems sexual in a voyeuristic and sadomasochistic way, attempting with all of his weak assets to dominate me, after i had nearly killed him nights before. i lose my cool, and swill down the drink sitting in front of my face, along with another shot, and spend the remainder of the night shivering, anxious, mortified that i might have to suffer another 30 days in the dungeons for my misstep, and fighting off accusations that i might someday open fire on the kid in my basement obsessed with his own black heritage, because of my introspective manner. i remain now, as dry as a leaf, watching sunbeams crawl over the horizon like spiders into my own listless and prematurely aged eyes.
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