People are going to think what they want to think. I let them. You cant control perception, it’s a losing game, so I don’t play. I let them lose. Lose themselves in their own fantasies of what thye want me to be: a rebel, an angel, a romantic, a heartbreaker, a child, a man. Perhaps Im all of these things, perhaps im none. But what I am is for me to find out, not to be dictated to me. Its for me to know.That is my right; to make mistakes, to disappear. But most importantly not let comfort hold me back, not now, not ever. Because predictability is boring, and boredom is something to rebel against. 

Instinct stays silent and strong. It is why my instinct is my brother. This is why I trust it. We are the same instinct and i. Instinct is the strong and silent type.

Sergei polunin

Its makes me feel invincible. And if I didn’t feel like that I wouldn’t keep fighting to get back to where I belong. 


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Iphigenia crash lands falls on the neon shell that was once her heart: a rave fable

A rave fable: bandstand doll plays


Enter club scene: aircraft hanger. A column of light shines on Iphigenia. Music blares. Lights. Dancing. Rave.


Iphigenia: The aircraft hanger opens an electric wound. Somnambulant bodies throb under the crimson light. Girls with cellophane chests

Put blue pacifiers in their tender mouths

While Diesel shirt boys twirl and hip-shake

To a subsonic bass line.


Downboy by Gisela A plays:

Fresa Girls move amond the throbbing mass of shadows.


FG2: Hey. Its gonnen faster.

FG1: What?

FG2: Everything. Look at the screen.

3: What?

2: the screen.

1: its cool

2: What?

3: Lets move.


Iphegina: A thousand factory girls move as the beat consumes

The everlasting promise of sundown.

Iphigenia feels her name escape through the pale insomnia

Of the fake Gucci, Prada, and Helmut Lang seething around her.

“Oooh and aaah” she lets herself cry.


ALL girls: Ooooh and aahhhh…


Ipheginia: As the cobras hiss n the blue lounge to one side of the wide open hangar. I have become invisible in this flickering light.

Lick me.




Virtual MC: Lick her, cries the Virtual MC, and welcome to the end, el fin, finis!

Lick her face and rub up against the slimacric wood of a planer about to go to dust. This is el fin, children. This is the end. Hold onto your cojones. We go the sound to un-still your hearts blasting through tommoroow, hasta manana, until the wee bleak trash-can Sinatra hours of a dim morning that will go on for days, or until the enxt brutality brings us face –to face. Ick and moan, cabrones. Moan in the creep of this psychedelic light because here we do what the state says.


Achilles picture flashes on all the screen. BORNS image.


Virtual MC cont: lift up your hands, guerrilla ballerinas showing off your Hello Kitty straps. Its time to smash our heads, down those raspberry martinis, and dream of Mars, Because “the war is over, the gods are over, everything..” Hijos and hisjas de la gran puta, is over.

So lick those scab off those valentine lips,


Achilles image licks the screen and swallows a tablet of E


Fresa girls place E on Iphigenias tongue.


Virtual MC cont: the boy with cherry crush, crazy love, hot pink, star red lips. Achilles. Give your tits and dicks up for our very own war-bred pop myth with Day Glo hips that move, oh yes.


Ipheignia: Whos he talking about?

FG2: The boy with the body. SEE?


BORNS is on all the screens. Electric Love Video playing.


BORNS/Achilles: Stoked up on the cocaine

Living with a migraine

Looking for an end to end all my days

Strolling through the backwoods

Living on the wild glue

Taking what I can fo what I pay

Swimming with the rats

Behind the cops

Cutting white snow on the hoods of la migra

Pulling small roazors from inside my leg

Cutting young men

And al lthe pretty girls

Dance in the deluge

All the pretty girls


Why don’t ou kiss me?

Killing for a bum rush

Off a lousing bum fuck

Bitches in the corner

Begging for a blow job

Caught in la tijera

Of a road made of sin

Spinning my brain: oh what can I, what can i..?

And all the pretty girls

Dance in the deluge

All the fresa girls die..

Why don’t youdie?

Where is your father, girl?

Where is your father?

Hes left you all alone in the world.

Tell me.


Achilles sings to the camera, a la mick jagger


Ipheginia: Hold me. My limbs ache. I tremble. I blur. One hundred and twenty beats perminute: my heart goes.


Achilles video fades


Ipheginia: The fresa girls surround me iwht their stained skirts, and metallic forheads. I move, pulse, escape. The inside of my chest bursting. I tease myself into thinking no one can find me here. And then I see you standing beside me, Father, except you don’t look like yourself. You wear a smart coat and tal hair, place your hand over my eyes, and whisper “shhh, angel.”


All FG: shhhh

Iphigenia: As a knife comes inmy back and I feel myself fall a thousand feet down

craig armstrong – escape plays

ALL FG: Shhhhh

Iphiegina: A thousand feet into darkness. And you don’t say anything. Father, you done even say


ALL FG: shhhh

Ipheginia: You just smile. With white snow on your tongue. I am laser-lit. Suspended. A hundred million particles of light. Iphigenia is dying. Hold me.


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Thanks mom

It’s overcast in Chicago, but not too cold. It’s a quiet morning, except for the occasional humm of the El train and a car beeping down the alleyway. The trees are almost naked save for the few rotted leaves clinging to life before they fall. Sitting on the back porch enjoying my breakfast of one American spirit, the solitude is cozy. Bells chime softly in my ear , another angel gets their wings. Unlike my usual black Wednesday escapades I decided to call it an early night and share a bed with my friend, getting a restful sleep and some quality conversation . I’m old. And that’s ok.  



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Sometimes you meet a man and there’s a million reasons why not to love him. Maybe this or that. But what’s irritatingly absurd is that despite these inane things you love him anyways. It’s numbingly dumbfounding! It’s irrational! But ya love him anyways, and you go on loving him.  


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Remember those old school quizzes? Well I was feeling quizzical and decided to fill one out . 


What do you find attractive in a person? Wit. Intelligence. Talent. but mostly that they can make me laugh. 
Do you collect anything? stories and masks.
Have you lost anyone important to you? My brother and sister passed away 3 and 2 years ago. it still hurts.
Are you in love? I am very much in love. 
What are you currently reading? Chekov’s A cherry orchard
Describe your family? jesus. hardworking. lazy. crazy. loving. sad. alive.
What is the worst injury you’ve gotten? Currently I’m dealing with a hip flexor injury that is pesky.
Talk about your past? its convoluted, naivety, dark, and thankfully there are the beautiful moments that shine though. I grew up in chicago, i was the youngest of 4 children. my sister got me drunk for the first time and also held my hair for me to puke for the first time. i had my first kiss on the back of the bus with ryan van de veld, it was sloppy and mostly gross. my first boyfriend was hank, the class clown. i met my fist best friend in 3rd grade. my second best friend my freshmen year of college and my third best friend, living in the city. sadness sucks. love is better.
what are your moral views? don’t shoot thy neighbor. 
what kind of clothing do you wear? my closet is stuffed with clothing from salvation army. and rodarte. 
what are your religious views? there is a universal connection amongst us all. love is the answer.
write a poem. 

 i fell in love, not at first sight, but at first kiss. 

               but life was too rough a sea and i couldn’t keep steady

            and now, a little while later in life, his hand in mine

               and those lips and those eyes and those lips 
tell one secret you have. I’m afraid. 
who is your favorite artist? alexandra billings

what is your favorite scent? chanel mademoiselle
do you drink? err yes.

do you believe in an afterlife? yes

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Neon reflectors

Another year is laid to rest.i need to remember to thank my mama. Last year in New York I saw this is our youth on Broadway and ate pork buns with my boyfriend. This year, in Chicago, I’ll dance the blues with my best friends. if i knew a year ago what i know now all id say to myself is CHILL THE FUCK OUT! i can be neurotic and insecure and self deluded. i hope to hell those qualities dissipate like Now. but I’m happy. Really happy.   

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A rave fable 

a rave fable 
BORNS electric love plays

Three Fresa girls emanate from the factory walls. metallic crescents on their foreheads. their club dresses are slightly stained. they have shiny red lips. 
FRESA GIRL 1: Yvonne? thats me.
Iphigenia: Dulce….Simona…Lucy
FRESA GIRL 2: Lucy? I’m Lucy.
Iphigenia: Anita..Natalie..Sarah
FRESA GIRL 3: Hey. they finally spelled my name right. Sarah. With an h at the end, not an a. like all the bastards think.
Iphigenia: Names upon names 

Foreign to my tongue

I move them around in my mouth

As I run my hands across the smooth surface of these factory walls 
FRESA GIRL 1: Is that where we are? I havent been near the factory in a long time. 

FG2: The last thing I want is to be near a sewing machine.

FG3: We’re here because of her.

FG1: Who?

FG3: ipheginia

FG2/1: That bitch

FG2: She’s been nipped and tucked since the day she was born.

Iphigenia: Maria..Claudia…Katie…

FG1: Katie’s gone too?

Ipheginia: I feel these girls hands on me. I feel myself pulled…oh, their touch warms my skin…

FG1: She must think we’re living

FG3: With our throats cut?

FG2 (to Ipheginia): Hey girl, take a look at my jagged necklace.

FG3 (to ipheginia): Take a good look, because your blood will be let soon. 

Ipheginia: Everything is alive here. Everything Id ever want…

FG1: Oh. she doesn’t know about us.

FG2: What?

FG1: The fresa girls.

FG3: the ripe girls, like strawberries, who come from the deep country to work in the factory.

FG2: Who spend twelve hours a day at a sewing machine.

FG1: Come time to get paid.

FG3: Mere dollars a week

All FG: Wed go out all night

FG1: To remind ourselves

FG3: What a bit of tenderness

FG2: What a bit of candy limbs and tainted love can..

ALL FG: Do to wreck a body.

Ipheginia: I could be one of these girls. Who says I have to be Ipheginia?

FG1: She really doesn’t know about us.

FG2: The shit girls.

FG3: Who find themselves dead.

FG2: Killed by anonymous hands.

FG1: Outside the clubs, bodies violated and slashed on the dirt gravel fields.

FG3: And no one knows…anything. (To Ipheginia) Because who is going to lift a hand to save a fresa girl?

Ipheginia: (singing) Sofia…Mora..Doris..
Ipheginia dances amongst the names and the neon crosses
FG2: Lets scare her. Lets show her our wounds.

FG1: No. she’s too happy.

FG2: Bitch. look at that dress.

FG3: Look at her swirl.

FG2: Its Chanel.

Iphegnia: The names of all these girls enter my brain. I take them on, and undulate. Oh…I am losing myself.
(Iphigenia spins spins spins)
FG3: I remember dancing

FG1: yeah?

FG3: Like she’s doing now.

FG1: Remind me.

FG3: I remember..hips..and torso…

FG2: I remember arms. lots of arms. and feet.

Iphigenia: I am losing every part of me, and I’m all right.

FG2: She’s doing it all wrong.

FG1: She doesn’t know the moves. what can she know stuck in a garden all day?

FG1: I like the way she dances.

FG2: Its like she’s stuck inside herself.

FG3: Sexy-weird.

Ipheginia: I want to be just like you, girls.

FG3: Like us?

Ipheginia: Names on a wall written by lovers who caress me.

FG3: Caress us?

Iphigenia: You are beautiful girls.

FG1: Hey, Iphigenia. take us to the club, will you?

Ipheginia: To the club?

FG1: You can get us in, can’t you?

Iphigenia: I can get anyone in.

FG1: Take us, then.

FG3: And we will wear our hair in pillows.

FG3: and our jackets square.

FG1: and we’ll go among the living again.

Iphigenia: Among the living?

FG3: Take us dancing, Iphigenia. Take us away from the walls of these factories where we left our skin.

Iphigenia: What?

FG1/2: Take us.

All: Oooooing and aaaahhhhhing into infinity. 


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