everything I have everything is yours and this may just this needs to this may just make things happen this is everything I have for you and it may just make sense soon very soon and there is nothing but now and there is everything I want to give and give and give and I want to give back and maybe just maybe it might work when it is everywhere and it needs to be and I swallow shame I succumb to dreams I fight I fight I fight like a motherfrucker to stay alive to keep my dreams and please all I want is you all I want is to make you smile all I want is everything and that is why I where I find my drive because ny dreams are who I have become and I love nothing more than you, I love nothing more than you and my dreams, I love nothing more than WAKING PEOPLE UP and letting them see letting them see letting them see letting them remember their dreams and soon I will soon I might be able to let them remember, maybe.


I want to be able to give so much more than I ever have before.



fall or fly.
Tenth floor, wide open windows, I’ve had bad thoughts, I admit.
I am weary.
Asking the right questions
having the right friends

I’m going to fucking fly.

Someday soon, when I have a home and my life is not encapsulated in a van that contains the rest of my life, I might be able to write again. Write like I did, write like I was me. I’m not me anymore – but I put up a good front, and I can’t express how much I appreciate the people who have given up their personal space for me – but that will change soon.

Starting Sunday next week, A & I have decided that it would be best if I were only here for three nights – the rest I’m crashing in the van. I’m sick of asking people for things – I want to give. I’ll figure that out, and this doesn’t make any sense at all.

Someday soon, when I have my own home, when I have my own bed, when I come back to me – I’ll be able to write womething interesting.

Time to find my wings again.


Better. Much better.
I fought hard with myself to get out on the street yesterday, but know if anything was going to lift me out of this funk, that was the best bet.
I dressed slowly, each piece of my costume that was put on being met with a rationalization of why I should not go out. A weekday, February, overcast, a bit cold…
No. I need this. I need the money, I need to get back out there, and I desperately need the smiles, the people. I need to feel like I’m actually doing something that someone appreciates…
I need to come back.
Makeup on, I head out the door up to Geary, and hop on an almost empty bust that goes to The Wharf – things aren’t looking good, but fuck it. I’m on my way. At the Wharf, it was grim – a slight spattering of people, absolutely none of the excitement in the air that usually comes with the place. The few people that were there were walking about listless, directionless. I stood where I usually set up and looked around. Essentially empty. Well, I was there – I was hoping, at least, to make enough for dinner – so I set up. Jerry, a magician who is *always* there, wished me luck. “I’m going home. It’s dead here.”


The people walked by, a few looked at me with dead eyes.
A half hour later, I had made a grand total of .85 cents, and there were no signs of it getting better.
I weighed my options – either head back to A’s, wipe off the makeup and wallow in my shit hoping for better days, or keep walking directly past her warm apartment down to Union Square, and see what’s going on there.

I looked at the .85, laughed to myself – and decided that – hell, it takes time to get all fancied up, and I ain’t giving up this early. I laughed again, packed up, and headed to the bus stop.

I think it was the laughing at how rediculous it all was that changed everything. On the way down Geary towards the Square, the smiles from people kept getting more frequent – things were feeling better. *I* was feeling better.

I set up at Geary & Powell, the corner of the square that looked tto have the most foot traffic, though it, too, was sparse.
Within a few minutes, I was back in the swing of things. People taking pictures, tipping me – I was back. The tips were slim due to the few people, but hell, they were coming, people were smiling, a little girl threw a dollar her mom gave her in the box, walked away but then turned to look at me silently – and then laughed beautifully when I blew a kiss to her.

About 20 minutes in, someone put a tip in my box & I turned to see that it was [info]indrigirl  – COOL! I hadn’t seen her in a bit so I stepped down to talk & say hi, and shortly after that

 showed up as well – ahhh, this is nice! We chatted for a bit, then 

 left to go to an art opening.

 asked me if I could do something for him if I had the time. “What, when?” (At this time, the slight  bitterness and frustration inside of me brewed from the last weekend was saying “what, more free performance stuff for someone else?” – But at the same time, he had never asked anything at all of me before, and I’d never really gotten to see one of his shows, so there was also that part inside which was more open to the idea than against it…) but then he comes out with – I’ll give you [rediculously, absurdly generous amount] right now to pass out fliers for my upcoming show over the next week.” “Um – FUCK YEAH!” says I – or something to that effect.  Wow. Damn. This fucking rocks.

 fucking rocks. I’m actually excited to go pass out fliers and find the best places for them all around the city, and also excited to tell you people here that you must go to his show because when I actually feel like someone feels my time is worth something I like going past their expectations of me – call it an appreciation avalanche.

Go here:


which will tell you all about the show he’s got coming up.

And, of course – GO TO THE SHOW! It looks like a blast! There’s going to be a brilliant spoof of Vau de Vire Society & The Dresden Dolls, so don’t forget to bring all your friends, too. Every single one of them. Fly them in from out of town. Especially if they’re from Boston. We don’t have blinky-light terrorists here so you’ll be safe.

Well – kinda safe.