Tuesday, October 27, 2009

mad house

the night's still young. my body longs for Andrei and Catalena, and zron cigarettes and plum wine. I have to leave tonight,

I keep slipping in this mad house.

Monday, October 26, 2009

and the winner is

sister's calling. it's time.
the dark car of the baroness has arrived and this time, she's brought her will.

mother's excited but father knows better.

Saturday, October 24, 2009


-it's peeing all over my exit.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

lords of beast town.

last night, - marking Hollywood. go to Sunset Blvd to see 4 yourselves.

holding Catalena's latest ysl heels as she colors the ground; she quotes me in one of my saddest songs.

"Don't waiste your best words," it says in bold pink.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

flushing snow down the toilet.

our house is storming. maids running around. frenetical. calling.

calling, "Aurora! Aurora!"
calling, "Your mother wants you downstairs immediately!"
calling, "Show yourself, child!"

what now? what this time?
they're thinking as I climb out my window and into the day.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009


sweaty sheets, unlocked doors; mother walks in on us as we're sprawled out awkwardly on my bed, naked and satisfied, staring at the ceiling.

mother's pale; looks at me like she did that time she discovered the widowbird tattoo between my legs (I was twelve at the time and shaped like and ironing board).

mother walks out stiffly - no words. maybe she's run out of words by now? she looks disgusted.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

the veins on your thighs

I love your body, Catalena.
make love to me, -you make up for a trapped life.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

how we end.

currently in Bucharest; stone-faced grandfather has gathered the whole family at his 200 acre estate. the last time he did this was to explain cousin Augustin's mysterious death, but even back then they couldn't convince me it wasn't suicide; cousin Augustin had always found life dull, like every other spoiled aristocrat with too much time on his hands.

remembering the funeral now (mother dressed in Chanel. dark blue - not black).

Augustin in his coffin; the hint of a smile on his pale lips. his face appears soothed - finally at peace.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

press pause.

today: a dull Hollywood outside my windows, waiting, mocking. the limo has pulled up the driveway.

I observe the world for a while.

Saturday, October 10, 2009


last night resulted in three full songs and one unfinished. my ugly voice echoing in my ears.
rhyming "claws" with "jaws" - "mother" with "bother". will get a Myspace account as soon as I've showed them to Andrei, he always cared about my music.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

dotted with goose bumps.

today: bathing with Andrei and Catalena.
two bottles of Amarone and 33 cigarette-ends on the bathroom floor later I realize that there's not much more to the world than these two.

he soaps her breasts - they're dotted with goose bumps.
I snap a picture.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

and I believed him.

my first year here in Hollywood:

eight years old, trying to run away back to Romania. away. away from stiff families - away from a house full of maids.
but our driver finds my tiny body wandering on Sunset Blvd the next day and brings me back home.
my sisters looked pale; mother got another wrinkle ; only the maids cried.

give it some time, kiddo, said my father. you'll love it here.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Hollywood, -tonight

the Frog wants me to sing with them, ignoring my stage fright.

they'll be @ Overground tonight, second floor.
don't bother coming if you don't know the password.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

that hour before morning turns into day.

waking up entangled in each others bodies. floating around in oceans of white sheets and bright morning sunshine. my lips are sore. the world consists of two things:

Catalena's white breasts,
Andrei's hard body,

"Now," she commands, her neck still colored with last night's kisses.

Saturday, October 3, 2009


our house, made out of bricks and common ivy.

spending nights on my window sill. I could fall.
three stories - 29 feet.
landing outside sister's window with a shattered skull, an easy scare.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

stage fright

daytime is the worst time. I spend my nights writing songs about our house back in Romania, the one with 31 windows and the well which kept me occupied during a childhood without friends.

maybe I should get a myspace-account and put up some songs, I'm not sure.