January 2012
58 posts
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MALAGUEÑA SALEROSA
Another Indian summer. Wilted plants in the courtyard were starting to brown in their thirst, leaves curled in silent screams. The scent of dying jasmine and oleander lay heavy and thick. Everyone kept their windows open and fans buzzed and the powerlines crackled electric, in time with the impossibly loud crickets and drunk dizzy junebugs. The neighborhood was pretty quiet except for murmuring...
December 2011
67 posts
Started today and just finished “Hunger” by Knut Hamsun. What a frustrating novel.
Perhaps I am too American or maybe some rigid post-modern freak but the inner dialogue drove me insane.. and to be honest, everyone knows you can’t just jump on a fucking ship and solve all yr problems.
Anyway.
Now I’ve started “Journey to the End of the Night” by Celine....
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SCENES FROM A MARRIAGE
Her hands are soggy from washing the dishes, the faint smell of a musty sponge sticks to her fingers. Her manicure is already chipped before Christmas and the papercuts from wrapping presents sting. She fixes her eyes on his hunched over body, the glow from the computer monitor makes his golden skin look pale and sickly.
He rambles on, feeding his own ego as he talks about a girl from rehab....
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GET RIGHT OR GET LEFT
I stormed out the house with ruined foundation left the door wide open and didn’t look back to see a stupid expression open mouth big eyes panting chest and didn’t hear following footsteps and tires squealed while I burned down the street perfect mascara eyelashes clumped together in shame, cold air on a hot pissed face drove the fucking car over a 100 miles an hour and didn’t...
the second coming of christ: long ago, i was... →
zaedilux:
long ago, i was pretty fucking beautiful but i threw that all away because i wasn’t happy and now i’m lots of meat and not a lot of bones and i’m lost and i can’t be found and i’m living on bad dreams and unheard prayers and shattered hopes and scattered ashes and my heart is caving in and i’m…
Heartache in Singapore.
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“Dress suitably in short skirts & strong boots, leave your jewels in the...”
– Countess Markievcizv, 19th century Irish revolutionary, dispensing eternally relevant fashion advice. (via sharkyteeth)
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It’s never going to be a good day when the coroner is blocking the driveway and two cops with running cars. I wonder if there is an overdose or heart attack or if, just simply, this time of year kills everyone. Weird scene at the liquor store. A woman wailing to another, clenched fists and wind blown hair, a little girl caught in the middle. Even though they were speaking Armenian the...
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Who has twitter? @sirenobrien for live updates on my life.
HOW TO SURVIVE A TRAINWRECK IN THE VALLEY
My year in review and some other sentimental bullshit:
A year ago I was sneaking thru back alleys behind random apartments, cum running down my legs, wet panties in hand, cash in my bra, holes in my brain, low potassium heart levels. I was dying. I was lying. I was falling in love.
Three trannies crashed at my apartment, frijoles negros stuck to the oven, wigs and lace and red nail polish...
I will never respect married people who aren’t faithful to their partners in mind, body and soul.
I also don’t respect shitty writers.
I didn’t come here to kiss ass or win a popularity contest. This is my place to spill my guts. I don’t write, I bleed.
You should be so lucky to read this, stranger.
If I let you in (and to the few I have), my loyalty is...
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NUDE SIRENA
Sleepless in Vegas, restless and dehydrated. The city is like a familiar stranger. Between the sheets, I sweat with my thin skin and thick blood. Guilty climates. I gambled my sadness away. I’m still a loser. Drained noodle brain, sad in it’s pale colour and limp will, empty wallet with a ghost of a modeling check. Keep the positive test shots, process negatives. Nothing is ever black...
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All I want for Christmas is a cross I can nail myself to.
I am depressed. Big surprise. Back to soup and fruit and cigarette diet. Why? Because my general disdain for the human population triples this time of year and I can barely stomach food while fighting the nausea hate and anxiety brings on.
Trust me, I would fucking love a fat bloody steak right now.
It was my mom’s birthday...
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AIN'T NO GOD IN MY HEART
“Do you think most strippers are orphans?”, he asks as he pushes her bangs across her damp forehead. They lay in a crumpled heap of smoking limbs, desire cooling as they glow in satisfaction. It’s witching hour after the art show, she’s been showing off her naked body, proof of trauma and her fascination with dead things.
Without warning their sweet pillowtalk turns...
“You are beautiful like demolition. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles...”
– Henry Rollins (via thedobermanmigraine)
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DEATH RATTLE
I’m not sure how to start this story but it was quite a few years ago. I bleached my hair white, had my septum pierced, drove my Nova and barely had my license for a year. God, I fucking loved that car. I also loved liquor and met the female half of my soul. United under terrible circumstances we were inseperable from the day we met. I didn’t leave her house for a few days, she is...
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PRINTS FOR SALE
Any photography posted in the month of November or December is up for sale. 5x7 are $10 8x10 are $25 11x14 are $40 Free shipping/postage. If you want to buy something bigger, lemme know. If you want to buy something that is older, we can work something out, sizing will be limited though. Email me: ourladyofroses@ gmail.com & I will send you an invoice from Paypal.
*Every 11x14 and 8x10...
“They dream of men with gentle hands, eloquent with tenderness, fingers that...”
– Janet Fitch, White Oleander (via melanquolia)
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FLAMES THAT BURNED BEFORE YOU
Mirror image of self-loathing. Another day, another heartache. My body is a battlefield of lost losers and enemies of war; from my broken ribs that didn’t heal right, my crooked broken jaw, scars on my thighs, knees, upper arms. The bump on my nose from blows to the face. My big wet eyes, swollen cheeks that burn of scarlet shame. Imagine my weak heart resembles a lump of coal, like charred...
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SEXY REPULSIVE CHARISMATIC GROTESQUE
Afternoon confessions of a heartless romantic: While you were in New York getting handjobs from hookers, I spent my time in Los Angeles popping pills and using sex as a weapon. I never once wore clothes. I took suggestive pictures for strangers and danced in my stilettos, empty apartment as my stage. I forget who you are and only remember you as you used to be. New moon rising, same old story....
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NEXT EXIT
Christmas in Los Angeles is purple mountains during sunsets when the afternoon is orange and the afternoons are cold. Lights are wrapped around the dry palm trees and nobody cares about them catching fire because everything bursts into flames here anyway. Scripts, love letters, meth labs. People are in love with danger and being thin, looks that kill. Parents bury their children as gunfire and...