Wednesday, June 24, 2009


I don't know what came over me but it happened again yesterday in the thrift store. I saw a scarf -- really more a shawl -- many feet long. And even though it was not more than $10 I stole it.

You know you have a problem when you steal from thrift stores -- or friends. Ugh. So ashamed.

Some time back I was staying with my friend Frida in Kentucky on my way to Virginia. She was a friend in high school. I don't know what happened but she left me alone in her house while she ran an errand or made an appointment -- I don't know what. I was drinking water from this blue glass with yellow stars on it and next thing you know, I get the bright idea to take this blue cup with yellow stars -- yup -- I steal her cup. Into my suitcase it goes and into the trunk of my car and down the street and onto the highway and into a neighboring state. You know what though -- I can be a real oddball sometimes -- I told her I did it. She has a guestbook in her dining room. I signed my name. I thanked her for the comfortable hospitality. And I said without explanation -- like there could possibly be an explanantion?!!! -- that I took her cup. Bye Frida! Thanks again!

This was many years ago. I have no idea where that cup is now. And she and I have lost touch.

So this scarf is nothing really remarkable. It's cotton. It's long. It's a kind of dull green and red and orange. It looks kinda old. I took it into the little curtained dressing "room", lifted my shirt up to my shoulders, and wrapped the scarf around my midsection -- like ten times. I pulled the shirt down, picked up my bag, and off I go into the haze.

O yes I've stolen before. Not just a cup. Not just an old scarf. But candy! O yes. When I was 8. I also tried to steal some glittery pink pencils from a toy store but I got caught and had to put them back.

Come to think of it, I see stuff I can steal ALL THE TIME. Usually it's something lying around someone forgot about or left for just a moment -- and there I am faced with a decision. For the most part I've been trying to not take other people's stuff. Every now and then, though -- a pen! a newspaper! -- and it happens again.

(Krishna Stealing Clothes by Kailash Raj)

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


OK I've had a lot of time on my hands -- still not employed in the formal sense of the word -- and I've been doing a lot of walking around.

I love love love -- love -- walking around. I love how I can see the world and pass it by. If I have the right outfit on -- this is key -- I can be more or less invisible.

Unfortunately I wore the wrong outfit yesterday -- shorts. Short shorts. And one of my many backless halters. What was I thinking.

Well it was hot, for one. And I felt pretty. That should always be the red alarm warning danger siren. If you feel pretty, then THEY will see that -- this is not a good thing.

Why? Because they -- men who like have sex with women -- will pretty much go for anything that maybe has a vagina. And if you for sure have a vagina then they start grabbing their crotch -- with both hands -- and saying the nastiest rudest words they can think of while bending their knees a little and tucking their hips -- you know exactly what I mean. So totally disgusting.

So this guy sees me coming and does the above -- I'm not making this up -- and after a long string of nastiness he finally gets to the exact image he was looking for -- leaving nothing to the imagination -- and I say loud and in my alto voice -- watch your mouth!

You know what? This is what kills me. He gets mad. He's all Sheeeeeeit, she didn't even say hi to me and his friend is all Fuck that shit.

I say You want me to say hi to someone who is being so rude and insulting? And I keep walking and pick up my pace a little and this ends the exchange. I turn the corner and make a bee line for the hotel -- my fortress. I thought I was just going to change my clothes. Piece of shit. But no. I get in my room and that is it. I can't leave. I'm too scared. Stuck inside because of a stupid shithead man. Asshole. Shithead. Jerk. Dick. Damn damn damn.

I'm so mad I have to stop writing.