Cockroaches

A fellow showed her film here, Art Hard. There was this running phrase through it that we all have our cockroaches. It means we're all a little crazy. That seems to be a common thing to say lately.

I woke up exhausted. My hair is a mess. Yesterday walking to work set me off. A 15 minute walk down the mountain where I try not to think of the guys face on the concrete and how I didn't do anything about it.

The past two nights I dreamed of Curtis. The first night he sent me a postcard telling me it would be alright and the second I happened to wander on to him in Vegas painting a mural and he didn't ignore me like I though he would. He wanted my attention. Both times I woke up shortly after feeling comforted and then sad that it wasn't real.

Yesterday afternoon I realized it wasn't him in my dream saying I would be ok. It's me. Talking to myself. I try not to feel crazy but this mountain is so quiet.

I feel like I feel everything all the time.

People tell me guys treat me the way they do because of my job. Gypsies are only good for one night stands I suppose. That's not me though.

Another man called me sweet the other day. In my head it means that Im putting more thought into something than someone else. In the back of my head I know it's just baggage though.

I wish I had my sketchbook here.