Wednesday, November 10, 2004

Baroness is just a title...

This is a succulent. Yes, it's really called that. Morning Slothville! Everyone sleep tight? I slept like a rock in a river bed. So, there's this awesome rumor going around that I'm "from money." It's so beautiful, I can't stand it. Each and every one of the fifty-three dollars in my bank account thanks you for your faith and support. Mom, I know you're reading this and I can't even imagine how hard you're laughing right now. At least as hard as the time the city evicted us from that warehouse we were living in so they could pave a parking lot over it, yes? I mean, that was a laugh riot, am I right? I'm laughing at least as hard as that time in the sixth grade when the kids in my gym class made fun of me for wearing imitation Converse sneakers because you guys couldn't afford to buy me the brand name kind. What a gem of a day that was. The only thing I can think of that's funnier than that is the time dad and I were in D.C. (when I was a kid, when grampy died, remember?) and I was so hungry that I was crying. Dad and I went all over the city sticking our fingers in pay phone coin returns until we scrounged enough to buy me a hot dog. He turned it into a game to hide how scared he was. Boy was that a blast. What could be more fun? Oh, I know! The time when I was a baby and you were so starved and malnourished that you had to break into the neighbor's house to steal food so your breast milk wouldn't dry up. Gosh, what a great memory that must be for you. Hey Slothville! Anyone ever traded sex for rent? No? Just me? Well then. I guess if I'm rich, I wouldn't wish "wealth" on any single one of you. I'm sorry, you know what? This was supposed to be flippant and funny but it didn't turn out that way at all. It seems poverty is kind of hard to joke about. I'm ok now, and so are my folks, thanks for asking. We made it through to the other side (even if I am still broke all the time - it's the shoes, man, I have an addiction). But we didn't skate here on solid gold. We sweated and crawled and got our noses shoved in shit just like you. If you want to hate me, hate me because I'm a bitch. Hate me because I pissed you off and pushed all your buttons. But don't hate me because I'm gagging on some mythical silver spoon you shoved in my mouth (pipe down, pervs). That ain't mine. But even if it was, it would not, in itself, make me worthy of disdain. The line between good and bad does not lie on the line between rich and poor, no matter how tempting it sometimes is to believe so. Listen Slothville citizens, I'm getting sappy here. I just want you to know how much I appreciate that you come back here day after day, letting me be Meek Sloth and Loud Sloth and Sad Sloth and Angry Sloth and Ecstatic Sloth and Thankful Sloth and every kind of sloth that I am. I may not be rich, but I sure am complicated. Thank you for walking this road with me. The more feet there are kicking through these leaves, the easier it is. *touch*