bionicfemme

I volunteered at the homeless art shelter again yesterday. I met the artist who created the collage that said in the center of it, "Entertain me into believing." His name is Thomas. I think he is quite talented; all of his pieces have earth shattering sayings in the middle of these clever collages, complete with industrial looking pieces of metal glued to them, or sometimes wood. I bought a piece from him yesterday that says, "Who owns your work?" and surrounding it are images of religion, government, the Japanese symbol for Yen, and even a scrap of paper torn from a philosophy book. He was very humble about his work and offered his piece to me for 15-20 dollars, so I gave him 20, which was exactly all that I had. I was lucky. I told him, "It is an honor to have your work in my home, sir." He smiled and said, "I'm always glad to see my artwork going to a good place."

So now the collage is in my room, saying, "Who owns your work?" Who does own my work? My professors? My critics? Society? Form or genre?

I can't make headway until I own my work. And once I completely own the things that I write, the weight of the words I choose or say, I will not be able to finish my book or the smaller chapbook I would like to make. Once I become confident in my own writing voice, I think things will change and this block will be over. I am already getting a little more inspiration since I left for Houston. Once I grow more as a writer, I think I will be an important tool for societal change, for both the working class and the LGBT movement.

I ran into a woman at the art shelter that I met while volunteering at the women's shelter. Her name is Kat and everything she wears is animal print. She is starting a band of artists in the Tenderloin whose motto is, "Heal through playfulness.

At that point, I had a revelation for the ending of my Bionic Femme book:

I will not let you die hungry
I will not let you die cold
I will not let you die alone
And I will NOT let you die uninspired.

I am your Bionic Femme
I am your Bionic Femme
I am
Your
Bionic
Femme.

And then speaking of writers, I went to the city's BEST lesbian bar/club and ran into Michelle Tea THE DAY AFTER I SAW HER READ! We talked for a little while and then I made an ass out of myself because I was drunk. I put my hand on her shoulder and slurred, "When I get drunk, I get a craving to buttfuck gay men. See my friend Pat? Pat? Oh Pat. You're my little ALTAR BOY, darling." I promptly bent him over and assfucked him in front of Michelle Tea. She looked confused and disturbed. I laughed and pointing to the video screen said, "Why the hell are there cavemen on TV?" and stumbled off to dance to "WHO'S THAT GIRL" by Eve. Pat grinned and said, "Oh honey, you can USE MY BUTT anytime."

God help me. I need to stop drinking, I made an ass out of myself in front of THE GREATEST WRITER IN AMERICA! I thought she thought it was funny, but Pat said she gave me a look like I was a complete idiot. I trust his judgement, since being drunk makes me think I am cooler/funnier/more attractive than I might actually be at that point in time...