I hear the dissonant whistle of the freight train. Her collar hangs from my mirror, intentionally unwashed, her blood and fluids making it stiff, a thick canvas torn through three holes. It is impossible to tear. she was hit hard, it was quick and complete.

I miss My Bean.

Today I did laundry, and found her hairs as I pulled out my clothes.

I don’t need to worry about her anymore. I have stopped feeding her and giving her water, a week after she left. She watches me now. There was never a companion like her. She will come back, I will see her.

I need to come back. I need to get the tatoo that honors her here,where she passed. Only in Austin. I need a good artist. I welcome recomendations in this writing. I have little money lately, but that will hopefully change. It should not be free, but I can’t afford much. I want to pay for this pain. I want to carry it forever.

Tonight I asked Albert. I will go to the meditation retreat, I will go to New Orleans, see Cole, her home, and offer myself to animal rescue program. After that…

He stopped me in mid sentence.

he said “You are always welcome home.” I made him repeat it. It was the same.

Will I come back? I don’t know. I want to, but the world is out there, waiting as I have waited for it. She is here. She is here…

I am hers, I think that I always have been.

I will decide. I have. I will come back.

I promised.

A Good Question…

Plastic wrote:
> I saw you on here and realized that i totally
> miss you.
> whats going on in your life??
> where are you living? from the photos it looks
> like some magical fairy land…….
> im so sorry about bean…i know how much she
> ment to you.
> what is the best part about your life right now?

My Reply:

The people, the growth, the way I am learning to work through suffering and just have good ol’ pain.

A certain woman whose eyes I can see my dreams and sorrow in, whose smile makes it all okay. Our love for each other both tender and full of beautiful rage. Release. We learn together. We open further. We’re terrified because we look into mirrors, and know ourselves enough to be wary, but we believe in each other.

The necklace I made out of Beans teeth.

This Beautiful Forest.

The way creativity is a way of life, a passion, a need here – never is there anything less important. It nurtures, inspires.

The knowledge that I can do anything I want, and will. I always have, but now I back me up, and have much more confidence.

Chocolate Milk. Coffee. Bourbon. Gotta love the way we medicate.

The way my tent sounds when it gets windy here.

Dying my hair Black Cherry again.

Re-piercing my ears – probably today or tomorrow.

Many things.

My life is the best part of my life.

Today is the best part of my life.

You are the best part of my life, and all the people I care about.

Right now.

My life is full, beautiful. Full of sorrow and shining with love.

My life is the best part of my life, every day.

Last night Fred became something new, something much more effective in
the spoooookiness of The Creature – and I smelled as sweet as a baby,
to boot.

Talcum powder.

Before each group came through I poured the powder all over my hair, my
costume. With each small movement an ethereal powder floated off of me,
with each violent shake of my head it exploded. Freaked people the fuck
out when Fred popped out at them.

The Haunted Forest is open again tonight. Fred will be standing high and smelling baby fresh.

Come on down.

(a couple photos tat Jenifer took of Fred are now on my Tribe profile.)

They collaborated against me, plotted and schemed. So apparently unassuming, just laying around and serving me when needed – I had no idea what was going on. They were clever. They waited until I woke, and then assaulted me while my eyes were barely open. They had the upper hand – there was nothing I could do. They won.

I woke this morning to my clothes strewn around my tent – cleverly placed everywhere as if I did it, but I know it is their own form of protest.

I need to do my laundry.