xoxo, nico

curator gillian sneed has put together a fantastic mix of fine art, ephemera and found material. i love that it’s both high and low: everything from beautiful paintings and drawings to sex animations, hilarious craigslist ads, film screenings and disturbing sex sounds on vinyl. gillian has also included my writings (a mix of poetry, fiction and actual conversations) on lovers and obsessions. enjoy!!

SICK LOVE OPENING PARTY
THURSDAY FEB 26, 8PM-11PM
CATHERINE SLIP
22 CATHERINE STREET #2F

super excited to see you all!!!
xxx
ewa josefsson

P.S. OBSESSION, SEX, HEARTACHE, ADDICTION and LOVE is expression. . .

silly little rabbit

that old saying that reads if at first you don’t succeed then try try again but i don’t get it. why would i want to try harder when i always end up loosing in the end. i’ve never finished first and i’ve argued with our father eight million times over money and competition that i’ve come to the conclusion the only ones who truly love me are my own demons. they say they care ten times to one only because i’m the first to volunteer the information and the only reason i do it is because i don’t want to be alone. i will be the first to admit that i am my own worst critic and the only person i hate more than me is being by my self. pretending is everything. nothing is real and i am my own worst enemy.

he told me no one wanted me around. he said i would be better off dead to make him feel better about himself. i listened and i pretended to take all of the pills he stopped dosing to make his brain function like a normal human. i let him believe what he thought i had done and i never stopped him from calling nine one one. i drew a bath in a pink porcelin tub but before it was filled up the ambulance had come and apt number one was buzzed. no more than seven minutes had gone by before the saviors were inside. they asked me to put on my clothes but i said no, if you want me to answer your questions honestly then i’m staying under the covers of mr bubbles. they asked if there was any domestic violence but i didn’t have to say yes. at this point my eyes couldn’t lie and we were separated beyond a reasonable doubt. my heart was ripped out but there was nothing i could do about it because i was stuck behind a glass wall on suicide watch at the local hospital. the nurse tried to make me drink a cup of black stuff to dilute the poison she thought was in my stomach. i looked at her dead in the eyes and said if i had taken as manay pills as you think i did then i would be throwing up uncontrollably at this instant. if i wanted to kill myself with prescriptions then i would take one every twenty minutes and let them seep into my blood stream so i could overdose myself slowly and feel nothing. i would rather be fucked up than try to chug that stuff so she took it away and watched me eat a piece of chocolate cake leftover from lunch.

the problem is an accident is too easy. i’ve tried so many times and have not succeeded. i have failed at living and being deceased. i have no fear of either and hope that one day i can be better at one than i am at the other. i thought i took enough the night before last but i threw it all up and woke up on the bathroom floor with nothing left in my stomach. the last thing i would have done is call nine one one and the last thing i’m in love with is the tolerance i built up to drugs. i am alive to realize how much mean time would have passed before anyone even noticed. whatever god dammit i suppose i have to get over it until the next time i decide to self destruct. so what. life fucking sucks. i deserve to wake up.

now i lay me
down to sleep

i pray the lord
my soul to keep

if i die
before i wake

i pray the lord
my soul to take

the line that strings the beads of my rosary must have been fraying for a while because they all fell off and rolled all over your hardwood floor as jeff buckley sang hallelujah. i hate that song. it reminds me of being stuck in a catholic mass dressed in my sunday best on the coldest day of the year buried someplace up in the mid-west. jesus was a cave man who rose from the dead but i think he was a magician with tricks hidden in the folds of his robe. if there wasn’t such thing as technology i couldn’t imagine how exciting it would be to see somebody walk on water then turn it into wine. wow imagine that i swear he would totally have been my best friend. wait no fuck that we could have be madly in love and i would have had no choice but to be mary magdalene’s sloppy seconds on the third day after you rose again.

derek james has iphone ammo uh oh.