Björk say’s she’s going to wear lipstick when she breaks up with someone. I don’t have to break up with anyone, but it sounds good anyway. It would be nice to go to Nordstrom or MAC and have a girl dust my face with powder, give m some eyeshadow, and most importantly, give me some lipstick. I don’t have to look like a girl. Rock star makeup would be fun. Even though Dylan gave me a book about lipsticl, I don’t want him to follow me around of be there, It will probably be a while before I get some makeup because I can’t go anywhere myself. Dylan’s afraid I would get lost and he tells me I can have a bus pass or work on getting a driver’s license when I become a permanent outpatient.
So here I am in Dylan’s townhouse with my notebook and I have the door shut. I know how to use Word but I like scribbling better. I put Bjork’s Homogenic in the player and begin to write.
Lately, Roger’s been doing pictures of himself as the Gold Lady. He is in his ideal drag queen costumes, of course, and he draws himself in a ton of sequins! I stole a few of his drawings so you can have a look at them. In the picture of Roger in the pink dress, he says he can draw better than me. I’ll give him that. But does he have more style? Everything’s so busy with sequins and gold and silver stitching that I get lost looking at it. How many times have I tried to teach him that the dress is only the compliment? He only wishes he can be the Gold Lady’s official drag queen. He can’t even spell Versace! Drowning in glitter? Is that the best he can do? I have to admit I like “You’re lucky enough to kiss my orb,” but he can’t grasp Andy Warhol or fashion designers.
When I wrote the story about the Fake Gold Lady, I never thought it would apply to Roger. He is my friend, even though he’s a freak—a scary black drag queen. When he puts on make-up, he draws on himself Mephisto eyebrows just like the pictures. I wonder if he’ll notice the pictures are gone.
I could always blame it on Bryan. Every time Roger is pissed off with someone, they blame Bryan. Despite his protests of innocence, Bryan always winds up getting seriously bitch slapped by Roger. If people simply simply shrug their shoulders without blaming Bryan, Bryan gets bitch slapped any way and the orderlies are slow to stop Roger because they don’t like Bryan at all.
I’m afraid of Bryan. If Roger and I both get out of the hospital, he would try to hang on us like the leech he is. In order for me to show you what this idiot is like, let me draw a picture for you.
Tags: fiction, mental health, Resplendence, the Gold Lady
