FLASHBACK: 2002: "I Bleed Words Until I A Read All Over." Acrylics, oils, ripped up pages of my chapbook, bandages.

Having chicken pox as an adult SUCKED.sucked sucked sucked. so, the little cluster of nastiness was only a size of maybe a quarter and a nickle and it showed up on my tummy.

"where are you heading with this...?" you ask. just wait.

so my doctor gave me vicodin because she insisted i am going to need it.

thinking that i am a tough bitch, i tried to deny it.

she forced me to have it.

holy hell. that small quarter-and-a-nickle area on my tum tum BURNED LIKE HELL. so i popped in a vicodin, and was high as a kite. it's a high where your mind is still working at it's normal tempo but your body is moving as if the air was made out of sludge.

so in my drug-induced stupor, i ripped up the pages of my chapbook (i used to perform back in the day) and plastered it on the canvas.

my roommate don at the time saw me passed out on the couch with red paint all over my hands and forearms and was like "yo, alf!! are you okay??". upon which, i grunted like Chewbacca and pointed at the piece. he goes "aw, shit. that's dope, alf."

and so it began... sorta.