DOES THIS SOUND RIGHT?

I called my boyfriend cryin because I’m mentally ill, no wonder everyone’s so mean and stigma-rollin over me, they want normal, consensual reality, life in the habitus, who can blame them for beating off an untimely twitch, I know the difference between IR-rational and NON-rational Bob, this is my choice, huh, what’s that if not insane, plus setting back the whole womens’ movement every store I go into, hysteric, sexhellholekitten template, unladylike, swearin a lot, can’t you see I’m no good for you baby?

Artist, he says. Indubitable, unquestionable, ipso-facto, inside and out, that’s your template, bona-fide creator, people don’t get artists, don’t know how to talk to them, it’s an entire terrain they know nothing about, don’t even see, does this make sense?

You’re doing what you were born to do, call it what you want, you were born to be an artist.

Um, the suns not yella it’s profiteering?

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