Little Green Faeries

Like someone pissing in your stream of consciousness

Sunday, August 28, 2005

let's take inventory,shall we? In the three years I have been with my boyfriend I have : gained 10 pounds,lost my soul,broken 2 vibrators, and managed to get stuck in memphis with the horny blues again...

oh, and I, the wandering jew now have a big really big...51 inches. That works out to 51 more reasons why I am not getting 5 inches on a regular basis...I don't have a car folks...I don't own a piece of furniture-and I like that...but now my name is on the dotted line for this damn TV

I love the man,I do...but there are corpses getting laid more than I am.

Have you heard of "Hysteria"? I am there. The first vibrators were used by medical doctors to cure woman of hysteria, no shit. They believed an orgasm could cure this point I see that as a brillant deduction on the part of the medical community...

cock...need it.

Friday, August 26, 2005


okay okay I will leave you alone after this...but I have some parting words...

I am not going to tell you what I am going to do to you or make some last ditch lusty it is safe to read on.

My friend touched on something the other night. she said that if our "non-relationship" was just about sex or sexual attraction it would be less complicated.we would have sex or we wouldn't. Now maybe it is that easy for you-but not for me..

I have meant everything I have said or written or whatever...but maybe I over emphasized the sexual element because I didn't want to admit there might be more there...feelings or the seeds of feelings...

Its scary to even entertain that idea.

Mr. Gita is a good man and he is good to me and we have fun, we are great friends and I love him.
To think that that our relationship is fragile..that there is someone out there that could change that relationship if I let them...scares me.

now I am not sure if I am a just young and stupid. I am not sure if you have me are a salesman after all...but there is something in you that makes me feel something no one else does, unfortunately you want to take that something and put it in me, but still.

when I try to do the math I listen to right wing radio and don't own a CD...I am about as left as you can be without throwing a bomb and own a gazillion trillion CDs...I am the crazy wandering jew bohemian backpacker who doesnt own furniture or a car and doesnt really have any roots, you are a southern boy, who feels his roots, who was proud not to understand coffee in manhattan...I love mushrooms and olives, you hate them. I haven't quite found my career path and you are a business owner. The only thing that adds up is that I bartend and you drink.

...nobody has given me butterflies since highschool... while at Kudzu's I looked forward to you walking in the door and throwing me a sly little smile...when you walked into the Buc the other night I felt a high just being in the same room...i want to feel that high everyday... but then I go home and have to shrug it off. after one of our clandestine fumblings I went home and passed out in a serious jaeger coma. Mr Gita came home and crawled into bed and took me in his arms, and I felt terrible.

you fluxate between classy and redneck, you are sexy,you have great lips, when you kiss me my toes curl,you are unique. you are the mistake I never had the chance to make...well, haven't yet had the chance to make.

until the next drunken dive

Mistress Gita

Dear You

okay, besides taking sexual inventory, what's up? I have become much more fluid in my sexuality as well. I had to come clean about my girl-girlness after watching a Shakira video...I found myself trolling her website, drooling. I guess I don't consider myself Bi-sexual just sexual. I kissed a girl about a month or so ago on a whim, and it was soft and wet and different...but I could never trade that for men. I love cock-which I guess is something we share these days? My boyfriend was not pleased with the fact I made out with a chick, which actually was refreshing-most guys pay for that kind of thing.

I'm glad I was there for ya...I can remember various talks we had about your sexuality. the first one being in Palm Springs, on that Park bench...Then I remember another in San Diego...I was afraid that our relationship was keeping you in the closet.I'm sad I lost you to the other team-you were a great lover! But que sera sera.

Gay Baseball. That is just goofy. I love it though....It seems uber-passionate. Passion for sports and the added element of sexuality making for an even more charged environment. i'm such a whore for passion...I love feeling.

keep in touch. First with you and when you find time, me.

Lady Fingers
To indicate
the road


Believe that.

Life crawled out of the ocean
He said that.
I couldn't
So I did

Slit.Open Legs
Shifting Inside
Now. Naked.

He was not
The first
Knew Born
Some time
After the brightest

So what
He won't believe
That life crawledOut...
of the ocean

House burning Down
My fingers to indicate a road
Not Taken

Night Listens
I believe that.
Life crawled
Out of the ocean

To night I listened.
Too closely
Me Back

He is
All I ever wanted is


Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Last night I poured myself into red sundress,grabbed a friend, and headed out into the swirling, sweaty insanity of a Memphis summer night...

Have you ever had such incredible chemistry with someone that you could feel them enter a crowded bar, long before they slipped past you and whispered in your ear?

unfortunately I have... and to add insult to energy I met him long after I met my boyfriend...after some awkard drunken fumblings in clandestine locations,he gave me an ultimatum...either finish up what I had started, or close the door...and since love runs deeper than lust, I declined consumation and used the experience as fodder for my ever evolving fantasy life...three months had passed and he slipped to the back of my mind

until last night...I was standing at the jukebox when I felt him...he had come in through the back and was standing at the end of the bar smiling when I turned girlfriend didn't understand who he was or what was happening she just knew that I became flush and stuttered a drink order...he came and sat next to us and she felt it. she knew something was up...Now I can go into every movement, every smile and double they are permanently tattooed on my brainstem...but the point is, seeing this man shook up my world..
why does this person make me crazy? why does my boyfriend not get my juices flowing like he does? why why why??? why does he turn me into a school girl?and what do I do? do i engage in the sex and betray my relationship? do i let it go?

the scariest part for me is the idea that my relationship with my boyfriend is that fragile, that all realtionships are that fragile...that love,lust, passion may not coexist comfortably...I don't know...absinth awaits.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

so there are things you do when you travel that you either wouldnt do normally or cant do-because laws in your native land forbid them...ive stowed away on trains...freak salsa-ed with an old guy at a club in a spanish mall...i drank too much of this drink that is illegal in thestates and now im leaving barcelona to spend a few days in this town a bit north of here with a 30 year old struggling writer from new orleans...if you ever come across a drink called,and i dont know how to spell it but it sounds like...ABESCYNTH...drink it but not too is illegal in most if not all states and you dont get drunk it comes on like a narcotic...i met up with nadia and she and i went out with these 2 guys from louisiana and i kept saying to her that she should chill out on the funny stuff cuz we are in a foreign country with two guys who we dont know...and i was fucked up big time-but still lucid...she ended up making a huge scene which was a some what welcome change...but when i finally stopped following her mess she lost her only jacket and atm to the streets of barcelona...and today i wake up sick...huge patches of nasty white in my throat...glands as big as spain...and i have to go find my roomate...and figure out the situation with going north...what am i doing here, is a fabulous city full of possibilties...and im far as soccer shorts ill see what i can do...maybe ill call you do figure out yer color scheme...also i want a tape of you playing music...i hope i make it back to the states without much more trouble...travelling alone wasn´t half as nice until i started hanging out with pèople and realized im better off alone...sonny terry has helped me deal...the Anodyne cd has also helped...except for new madrid because thats no fun with out you to chuckle with...later and much insanity-
Mistress Gita

Hey Killer,

How are you feeling today,stud...hopefully you made it home safe, ate some spaghetti and maybe a little crow...Just wanted send you off a little note to thank you for both complimenting my being and insulting my intelligence last night-classy. I guess you are from Mississippi, where admiration riddled with abuse is considered Also,for the record, if I was really just using my boyfriend for room and board you and I would be deep in the throws of freaky monkey love right now instead of tripping through cyberspace-so give me a little credit drinky. That said, I really enjoy sitting down with you on wednesdays for a little beer and please,don't disappoint. I promise,I'll be good in a good way no shots this time-liquor shots,money shots or otherwise.
say hi to your girlfriend for me.

Mistress Gita

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

i miei ponti ,
le città
gli stranieri,passegeri
sono stesi insieme
2 lingue diverse
parole,come dita
toccano le labbra
in un atto di possesso
una lotta,
tu,come il mondo, girando
binario 11,
il treno è partito
la pioggia
un vestito ho indossata
tu una satellite,
una mappa dell'universo
il tuo corpo, steso davanti a me
un schiena storta
di pietre lisce e deformi
un scheletro di terra
che si muove sotto il mare
e tu,
come il tuo paese,
corrotto, sensuale, in fiore,
eri poco più di un espressione geografica,
ti ho preso
tra le mie mani
una bocca spalancata,
di carne e campi
mille lingue che si muovano tra i denti
io, come il mio paese,
promiscua, impulsiva,isolata,
ero esperta dell'arte della guerra

ero incallita
mi hai rotto
uomo-bambino, tempesta
con gli occhi chiusi
mi hai detto you said"balla sopra di me"
ed io,
mi sono mossa, alla musica, su di te over
lentamente,memorizzando la tua musica,
campi zingari, l'odore della tua pelle
La periferia stendendo nelle tue braccia
svegliando dragoni che dormivano nascosti nelle facciate dei palazzi
ti stavo consumando e mi consumava
L'amore può in una vita
castelli di sabbia
case di carte
una vera casa... ma
La passione può
in un momento
bruciarti e bruciare tutto
fino al suolo
sotto le pelle
parole come dita
toccavano le labbra
in un atto di possesso (sapendo che non avrei mai potuto e era come tutti i miei pontibruciavano trane quello che ti portava via...)
i ragazzini lasciano senza pensare ciò che gli uomini cercano per tutta la vita...

Ballad of an Ex-Patriot
we have watched our leaders die.
my america war torn open gaping wound
like your heroes bleeding, broken machines
I can still taste
your poverty, hunger, screaming in the mouth
as fear
Interrupts skylines,lifetimes
with factories, prisons,
The border: An effort to make emperors of lesser men
and slaves of all the rest
and you
of pain inflicted passively-
we have have witnessed infinite suffering
men,women born
of earth and sky falling,
becoming slaves in fields
blistering, burning under the sun
men, women growing...still like the ocotillo
and like the ocotillo
I stood naked, incomplete
under layers of winter
my hands growing...cold beneath his clothes seeking out
your cities, desert bleeding highways
cutting through valleys,stripmalls
The Inland Empire
and you
smog and salt now seasons away
I can still taste your revolution,
vision of working men,women flooding,fleeing
The land they have cultivated for years
of wealthy men lying,dying in the beds
they have made of our tears
A revolution of you, your skin against mine
you, my america, dreaming, dissident gaping wound
left me bleeding, mourning,
for an eternity I would rather suffer,
Feel your absence
than for a moment
return and find

strong statements
Fear. Fear is an incredible instinct. It is immaculate when it motivates, and powerful when it cripples. You fear of being alone should become motivation for staying single, exploring yourself and finding out just what makes you tick, what is missing,and seek to fill it on your own before you seek another to fill it for you. Learn to be all of one instead of half of two. Then comes true love, mature love, then comes marriage, then comes Andy with the baby carriage. I was in love, and for the first time, was left alone, as usually I do the leaving. I had choosen to mold my life to suite his and in the end, was incapable. I lashed out at him and he left me. As much as it hurt and still does, it was a blessing. I bought a ticket and came here,and am now an international woman of mystery.My time here is limited, because my lust for politics and success is larger than my wanderlust...i hope.


A big conscience is just another way of rationalizing fear. You are scared to be and mask it as compassion for others. The best thing you can do for others is be the best you can be...the process which cultivates you requires selfishness and pain,and really poor descision learn more from your mistakes than from your succcesses. Successr ewards your pride, failure rewards your future and moves you towards a real sense of yourself and happiness...During daylight there are stars, beautifuland delicate, but only after nightfall do you see need shadow to recognize light and appreciate beauty. Okay, that's all...I am starting to get preachy... confucius say : later kid...

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

being an asshole has its limitations as karma,or whatever you choose to call the forces that be,steps in at inopportune times to policeassholes as our heroine happens to be...I am sick. I am tired. I am in Paris.the weather has been in flux between bad and intolerable andhaving a bitch of a cold the last thing i need to do is wander thestreets but alas the MIJE kicks out its little bums between 12-3...soi start walking my street worn little person around this great bigcity...its sunday and most things are closed and there is a stiff drizzle that is attempting to become thing you know I am lost,no lost doesnt cut it-when you are lost,there is hope to be found-I was a step beyond that...I turned onto this street where I was the only lady not working...noon on a sunday and the place was littered with hookers,strip joints,pimps and other unsavories-oh,yeah,and me-lets not i speed up the pace a sa man walks up to me grabs his testicles and asks me in the most vulgar french what am i going to do about it...i escape turn onto another street much like the one i left and slip and fall flat on yeah...karma...Im trying to figure it what it was...trashing the hotel room in Nice or trying to run out on my bill in Barcelona or the smuggling of absinthe...stowing away on that train...or is it areminder of how i let myself down academically this trip...i had planned on visiting Islamic Spain-ditched it for a week of Siesta...Im trying to get into school mode as I start on wednesday...bright and early for International Relations...I went to the Arab Institute yesterday to prepare me for the second part of my Islamic course...In another life I was to minor in French...Im over that...six years I studied French Language and culture with little to show for it...Im babbling now which reminds me-did i say anything too wacky when I called you ripped from Barcelona? Apologies if so...later-

a pony by any other name is still just as tricky...

okay...where do I start...before the mushrooms orafter the pint of whiskey? Before the scotch orafter I arrived in Palm Springs Drunk after asloppy night of debauchery, which could easily be labeled as deceit-under the circumstances...Howabout start somewhere after the beggining-becausethe story isnt really all that linearanyways,plus its my tale to tell-so why botherwith foreward-when all you want is the climax.Theclimax would be passing out cold in the terminalat SFO and nearly misssing my cohort,a sleepy, brooding,type from the far reaches of last summer-actually missed his plane,and when hefinally did arrive at his destination-had forgotten his keys,in a pair of pants (ones which I dutifully removed-after the whiskey-whiledrinking the scotch) and could not leave theairport...I, weeeelll lets see...I flew down toPalm Springs...a ticket paid for out love,toprovide for one last find mepiss drunk and out of sorts,smelling like I had been fucking an old lover on the floor of mybedroom did notmake4a blue screen romance or evena charming hello...and my excuse "I don't knowwhat happened,Bukowski took over-oops!" was aless than desirable attempt at shame orapology...My arrival in Palm Springs was met by a flux ofLabor Organizers and two facedideologues...syndicalism is one thing...but Ifind it difficult,the responsibility handed downto me,to bring passion to this becontinued...

Greetings from the great disaster that is my life...Things seem to be smoothing out a bit. I arrived andwas immediately struck down by a terrible flu, andRoma with terrible weather...but lucky for me, I had a calabrian farm boy, who made holistic elixirs to cureme...and lucky for roma, the clouds lifted to reveal amagnificent city...Man, everything moves so humming, peopleswishing by, vespas weaving in and out oftraffic...file it all under urban choreography. Roman street style is fun too...big sunglasses, lotsof color, lots of zippers and satin.Think New Yorkstreet chic meets Homey the Clown...The only negative element is living with my ex...inthe short time I have been here, my ex has reminded meof all the reasons we broke up, plus given me newreasons to want to live with him. It has been a longtime since I shared a room with someone I wasn'tsleeping with, and now I am sharing a room withsomeone I used to sleep with and no longer have thestomach to-which is infinitely more todayI yelled at him a string of disconnected Italianprofanity-and struck out alone in this big swirlingcity. Another thing,I thought i was done with Italianmen...I had one for love and one for sport-but thereare so many hot guys here...I feel like a kid in thecandy store...I move into my own place later thisweek-and I may have to get me some roman romance... later-me

ah....sweet melancholia...Brian, I am so deep in thethrows of my quarter life crisis...and cocktailing istaking years off my life...I met a whole new breed ofman this weekend-the conventioneer...married men whoare away on business and decide after a few roundsthey want to bang the redhead serving drinks-whichwouldn't bother me much except I AM the red headserving was ugly. Then I had this bizarremoment which starred me, my razor, and a bout ofobsessive hair removal...lets just say I waschanneling Pink, from the Wall, except further southon the body...and now I can't masturbate withoutfeeling like I am molesting a 4 year old...Then somewhere in the middle of all this, I decide Imiss Jethro and I call him in tears...neither one ofus really knowing why....then I stay up all nightbaking cookies,drinking malt liquor,and crying untiljethro bangs on my door the next morning on his way towork neither one of us really knowing gottalaff, but it seems even when I try to stabilize, myneurotic, woody allen-esque qualities eek out and makefor high comedy and/or uncomfortable need to come visit...

why I hate white people...

This guy in a bar last night in ANTIGUA,GUATEMALA told me I was 'angry' and that I needed to 'meditate'. Are you fucking kidding me? Had I not thrown back enuf tequila to kill a lesser life form, I probably would have killed him with my bare hands. We had gotten into this whole conversation about being americans...and I said that I was lucky, that I had the privilege of being from a wealthy country and pretty much had a passport to the world. And that is why I wanna organize the working class to overthrow the government. I was a little drunk. Um, anyways. That wasn't exactly how I put it, but more or less, I stopped short of quoting Marx, but I was more than half way there. Then he tells me I am a snob and I think I am better than the poor. I was like, no, I just accept that I have more opportunity and freedom cuz I am not a FUCKING KURDISH REFUGEE,GUY! and then he went on this trip about all the little happy indian people in Guatemala and how we jaded first worlders could never understand the simple beauty that they possess. Yeah, GUY! And if they get the shits, they die. They have no medical care, and in the Highlands a lot of birth defects due to lack of water and sanitation. Fucking Beautiful. Then we got back on the world tip, and I was like look buddy...I can tell you from experience I am privileged. When the cops picked us up in Germany, I was wasted, and illegal and they let me go. Had I been a FUCKING TURK, would have gone down a little differently...
Man..people are dumb. I am still fuming. Angry? Meditate? PuLeeze. Take it down a notch,Pops. Anyways, they are about to make this guy a saint in antigua and the pope is coming...I heard a rumor they are selling pope beach towels...I am all over that! Gotta go.Later

3 am phone call fromDallas,you lost somewherein Texas
whiskey drunk and thinking
as I lay 500 miles away
Memphis with me
as all things
shall pass
I love you.
hung over in my bed
spread long night split open day light
draggingthe midtown bars
your body
a southern city
under a blanketof invisible stars.
I breathe in
your dreams
while you're sleeping
skin seeping
stale alcohol sweat,smell of the downtown bars
now wet the simple curve between your shoulders
and invisible scars where I lay my head
to your music and take each breath with you
this as all things
shall pass
I leave you now
while your world is getting bigger
to map out your fate in another
the simple curve of daylight
waking you with another
country, your body a foreign city
soon you will find yourself,
love, among beautiful illusions
many who will make you feel like a man
such a beautiful illusion
of these,
willing to sacrifice to make youa better man
I was one.
I know you
never asked me to
But I will never forgive your indifference


I went to, strike that, I took a pilgrimage to London when I was 17... every american feels both a strange magnetic pull to that cold wet hunk of earth and revulsion-as america was founded as a reaction to the european I hopped the pond to feel my oats and fall in love with Johnny Rotten.

Didn't happen.

Hours after I arrived, I found myself topless on a table, my teet frozen, a man in a lab coat stood over me with a large hollow needle as I tried to make uncomfortable small talk...he assured me everything would be okay, because he was a pharmacist...and then it happened, he pierced my nipple.

Maybe it was jet lag, maybe sheer stupidity...but 10 years later I still have that souvenir-better than a t-shirt, doesn't fade when you wash it.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

ex post facto

Like most kids growing up in a shit town, I had dreams...I wanted to move to London or New York, be a writer, run with a fast crowd, make money off my intellectual beautiful,fabulous....then reality struck..all of a sudden, I was 14 with a bad punk rock hairdo,braces and a weight problem...I wasn't god's gift to the literary community, and I had atleast 4 long years (which is an eternity to a teen) before I could see my way out of Hicksville,USA... n

So I did what any other angst riddled adolescent with the William S Burroughs library would do...Travel and consume massive amounts of drugs...

I have a few stories to tell...