Another Journal [08/18/2013]

Chello bello!~

Well, I’m in the same place I’ve been finding myself the past few Sundays. In this ridiculously inhabited laundromat. It is both hot and highly occupied, and the rain & humidity are not helping at all. The people mostly appear vexed. The black ones peering amongst each other in the most accusing manner- I myself could not seem to locate this transparent omen…

 

I’m wearing my hair in a bun again as I always do- Well two buns, one on each side of my head. I’ve been wearing it this way for months… I like it, I feel that it suits me. My clothes, pewter grey pants, and old oil stained tank, and a charcoal grey Hanes sweat shirt that I can’t seem to figure out where I got it from. I came with the intent of writing, poetry, or painting my nails a sweet peachy caramel color, I like the way it looks on my brown skin. I wanted to get away. From the migraine, the dirty clothes that dream I had last night about Aaron, and more importantly people. My displeasure was every where.

 

To my right a plump tall white man with salt and pepper hair, a bushy mustache- awesome mustache, sat across from his sweet little daughter. She appears to be about 12, her thick brown hair in a pony tail. She’s wearing a tie dye shirt. She was adorable, her attention on the T.V screen, they’re playing Home Alone – His on his iphone….Interesting- Across from me. The same kind, kind man we had met last Sunday. All of a sudden, interestingly enough, everyone started disappearing- Yes, including the black people (shame on you closet racists).

 

I wallowing in thought, as I always did. Scribbling down every memory strand- Dad not even bothering me. He knows how I get lost, he now encourages me to do so. Yep, I’m a lucky gal to have Papa… Awesome gay dude- or so I so ignorantly presume, wearing low riding skinny jeans, pink underwear and nail polish, and a slit-backed cropped belly shirt. Say as you please I admire his individuality often times I wish more people were like that…

 

 

XOXOX

 

Kyanna

Journal Entry

 

I woke up this morning stretching and yawning as I rolled about my pallet on the floor. My eyes slowly blinked as I caught my first visions of that day. Papers- Notes, stories, poems, strewn all about my room, just as the clothes, shirts and shoes I had so lazily threw around earlier in the week.

 

“I need to clean this filth immediately,” I spoke aloud turning to my belly to sit up.

 

The morning started as I knew it would. Work work work. It smelled as if an animal had died somewhere in the house, the back toilet was backed up for no apparent reason and there was shit spewing out of the tub. Now. Aside from my ovaries throbbing in pain in conjunction with my bleeding vagina- this was the most fucked up thing that could have happened. I started boiling water, spraying cleaners every where, running back and forth trying to fix these unlawful travesties….

 

The trash was take out- Dishes washed, the tub filled with the same harmful bleaches I wash the dishes with. So what? I’m weird like that. The garbage can filled with hot boiling water and that delicious smelling Hawaiian Lysol- The steam calling me it needed to fill my ostrils with 3 sweet seconds of paradise.

 

I rain to the computer thinking I must post on my blog or my 500 thousand followers are going to think I’m dead ( yeah right). Gotta get the ball rolling- Only to get put on hold due to my brothers addiction to Naruto Uzumaki.

 

»Damn you Naruto, I loathe thy very breath- Lest it leave you- «

Anyway, hopping into the shower for a few to wash the homemade cholesterol treatment I made off and freshen up-

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Mr. Pry-or (God forsaken landlord) was rattling at the door of the bathroom.

“What the bloody fuck!” I yelled distastefully. I was covered in grime and God only knows what else, and he decides that for one in his ridiculous life he wants to be a responsible landlord? I smell a can of rotten ass fish. Needless to say I was pissed off. I need me time. Shower time dammit! He, Squidward came in snarking about then pretended to be fixing the toilet and tub. Pssssst. Guess what? He was fucking faking. I was already at 10 but damn. I was seriously seeing red.

Fast forward to night. I’m clean. Bathroom is fucked but oh well. I’m okay. I’m alone again. I’m journaling. Sigh. Tea time. No not tea time. Not now anyway. Guitar time. Lewis Caroll time. I just adore his work. Off I go.

Ciao for now.

©copyright Kyanna Kitt