xoxo, nico

seeing is believing and looks are all i’ve got to live off. i’ve hit rock bottom and i’ll stay down here waiting until it never changes even if my palms slap a hard place like high fives after try to scrape myself off the surface again and again until i  end up at the beginning. i pretend its all okay and its gonna be alright but that’s just a sorry excuse to cover up what is yet to happen. i can’t stop a flutter bye from flapping the wings that cause the chaos around me and i try everyday to make them feel better about themselves in hopes it will save me one day but i’m beginning to realize that if i go missing or disappear then no one would care. i received an invitation in the post yesterday from an old friend who found happiness and it said i hope you can be there to celebrate my love, don’t hesitate to bring presents and cards with notes that say congratulations sealed with an account balance that covers the check enclosed. i rsvp’d but i know its not customary to arrive empty handed because no matter how much effort i put into anything i’m always going to be left trying to find the exit out of my own empty ballroom.

live every day like you won’t die or you will be lost forever.

maybe the reason why i’ve lost everything is simple…its always been my fault. i should have stayed home tonight but instead i wandered around trying to find something i should have forgot. i found you at the same time i lost my identity and for the last four months i keep crashing and burning until one day i’m going to end up buried beneath ashes that cover up the path you crossed. its not easy getting all my ducks to play in a row so all these pieces under my feet are what keep me incomplete. souvenirs from tragedies. the next time you see one of those bag ladies with a shopping cart full of god knows what do yourself a favor and pretend you weren’t looking. if she was me then i believe each empty bag would represent what it feels like every time i see those numbers over and over in my head like the ticker stopped in the middle of counting down until i get to push the button that will keep blinking red. i wonder what a psychologist would think if he spent fifty five hours over the course of two weeks with yours truly.

update: i still have no camera and no laptop. i have nothing because i gave it all away for free so they broke and i’m affraid i have nothing left to gamble. i’m all in.

i’m missing my cousin’s wedding because my account is levied for a little trouble i got into when i was seventeen. well i guess it was a little bit more than a little; potentially, i suppose its considered big trouble. i pretended to be an old lady and forged her name at lowes, service merchandise and i forgot where else. my bond was twenty five thousand dollars and i was stuck in a cell almost all night until the steel door unlocked and they released me after i called my parents in hysterics. i was supposed to fly to california for a family trip the next day but as punishment my mum canceled my ticket. i was sentenced to four years of supervised probation, two hundred and fifty hours of community service and thousands of dollars in restitution. i had to take a drug test and pay several fees each day i reported to the state every month like clockwork. i figured out how to beat the system and only got caught once with coke in my veins; mdma, acid and mushrooms don’t show up.

my boyfriend at the time had a warrant out for his arrest because of some possession bullshit so when i got caught i didn’t dare to give out his contact information. after i lost my wallet michigan told me that my license was suspended because of some stupid driver responsibility fee i had no idea even existed so i set up a payment plan to have pay it off by being deducted from my chase account then all of a sudden my chase account was frozen. the state of michigan put a levy on me because of supervision fees i supposedly never paid even though i was convicted of the crimes i committed in tennessee. this is ridiculous because i was never in trouble with the state of michigan. guess what: michigan sucks. i was supposed to be up north attending my cousins wedding that my ex-boyfriend who helped me cause all this trouble is standing up in. what the fuck. yeah maybe you and my cousin are chums but he’s my blood and you’re the last mother fucker who should be there let alone standing up. thanks alot asshole i hope you had fun.

well maybe there’s a god above but all i’ve ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

it’s not a cry that you hear at night it’s not somebody who’s seen the light

it’s a cold and it’s a broken

hallelujah.

i can rip out two tear sheets from teen vogue and relix magazines with my copyright but ironically enough i almost didn’t have all the funds and bob dylan randomly began to play subterranean homesick blues. luckily i dug another dollar bill from the bottom of my pocket book to pay for the change on top of the only ten i had left to my name. relationships are the same. you win sometimes you loose someone else’s gain like the hundred i had tucked into my passport somebody must have claimed. the puzzle of my identity are finally piecing back together but i believe in all this mean time we live for an invaluable passion. if rock paper scissors was a competition then love is what was won.

he asked out princess but come to find out from a little birdie called abby road mr. wonderful has been in bed with her flatmate for the last few months swooning her before hand with champagne and oysters. i told duchess and she said he has been pursuing her cousin and i just ran into him with his ex-girlfriend looking like they were in love. opening night of james bond he tried to get in my pants but i said no due to my own personal reasons. princess was in love with his conversation then and couldn’t understand why i would pass up the perfect potential lover. maybe it was because i know something you don’t know or i got bored and i would bet money that he never deleted those incriminating photos of me in a pianos bathroom off his i phone. subconsciously we’re all in love with fucking the player but unfortunately we trip then hope we don’t fall and this is the reason all of our knees end up covered in blood.

i was in a coma until a lifesaver woke me up from this never ending nightmare. he was there all along and in my wildest day dream i always believed a fantasy could turn into something real but i never dared myself to think it could happen to me. i have had the worst luck over these last couple months but i’m not going to let myself blame my personal responsibility on anyone else. if you’re up to the challenge then why don’t you step into my souls and take a little stroll around the block just to see what fun you could possibly run into if you pretend to be me. you can hold my hand while i tip toe barefoot through these puddles until we reach the swingset that takes us to the red hot air balloon when we transfer in order to get all the way up to the moon. i’m on the list with a plus one. there’s a hammock reserved for you and me but the dead bolt won’t open until you fix the lock or i locate the key.

i asked my daddy to find my high school diploma packed in a box somewhere in a closet at the home they sold because where i grew up became too much to own. this isn’t the first time i have purposefully misplaced my identity. after high school i took of to nashville and stole a kitten from the humane society. i decided he came from a litter of strays and justified my actions because i saved him from the gas chamber. i wasn’t allowed to have pets in my boston apartment so i left him to roam around the mansion with a hidden driveway on a country road. a month ago he didn’t show up at the side door or sneak in to the garage when it opened. last night our next door neighbor found him floating in their pool and my daddy buried him in the back yard alone.

sometimes you stumble upon the diamond in the rough but it still makes me wonder how many of them i cut out of my life. if we were all paper dolls then maybe i would be a staple that connects the two who got ripped off from their original piece of paper. if you read my palm you would see my life line is interrupted in several places because its me who turns on my heals and leaves behind one one of two pairs of shoes. it would be so easy to steal someone’s identity and pretend to be almost me. maybe they saw me as something they didn’t need. maybe they couldn’t handle me. they said i was too much so i jumped.

what is the obsession with living in the past and being the center of attention? lately i’ve been hiding any motivation to be scene or play games tagging everything but her face in a little black book because it just got so fucking old and boring. i don’t miss those places i’m pretending i can’t get into without any form of identification and to be perfectly honest i simply haven’t wanted to see you face to her face in your sick and twisted little face off. i can’t be in those situations any more because i am the queen of drama and i never think before i say the things i mean. you never said you were sorry. you never cared about anything other than making whatever was currently on your arm better in a for worse way. no refunds no exchanges. i can’t take back anything i’ve chosen and i will never be the one afraid to fail. devil vs devil. winner takes angel.

good luck keep in touch hope to see you soon. maybe i will stay up really late at night and stalk your facebook or login into your myspace because i happen to guess the password on accident once in a moment of weakness only to discover that you are the most boring fucking person on the planet. some relationships make me sick to my stomach and i don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to stand on your own two feet instead of let them control the places you go and the way you feel when they stand there a few feet from me. i have no problem ignoring you not one bit because you are a bad habit that i would like to quit. sometimes it fascinates me how fast people can go from being in love to an acquaintance you see more often than not or once in a while but what the fuck no one says we can’t be friends.

poor little rich girls i wonder who you’re going to play with later.

when i kicked my fiance out of the beacon street apartment we shared for two years miss christmas moved in. a year later she relocated to the lower east side and i stayed at her place after la la land didn’t last so she is the reason i’m wasn’t homeless in the freezing cold streets of new york city when i decided to run away yet again with wet feet. last year we wound up living a few blocks from each other in kings county and last night she called me at two thirty in the morning freaking out with a fever of one hundred three point eight. by the time i got to her place the mercury rose to one hundred four point three so i put her in the car that drove us to the hospital.

the mansions in newport rhode island are lined up in between a rock cliff and a winding bellevue avenue. high society imported italian marble and threw lavish parties to impress the vanderbilts and the astors among 200 other famous ornaments on an exclusive list. the scandal that a prince created when he divorced his wife and married a half his age mistress in the foyer of the family’s summer estate was gossip all over the titanic. the newly weds were returning from their honey moon in egypt and boarded the ship with first class tickets off the coast of ireland but only the pregnant widow got on a life boat before it split in two and sunk to the bed in the frigid north atlantic. his heart froze like an iceberg no one saw coming until it was in front of a telescope lens. ta ta for now maybe in another life we will meet again.

the last time i was stuck in the emergency room i got a ride there in an ambulance. miss christmas was there when the decision that marrying him in the foyer of the astor mansion was probably not a good one. i was going to keep the solitaire diamond tiffany set on a platinum ring as a token so i hid it at the bottom of a change purse full of quarters he used to flip in order to figure out if he was lucky. when he came back to collect the rest of his belongings i had already come to the conclusion i don’t deserve the present nor did i need a keepsake to remind me of something broken. this is old news borrowed from a history of blues.

danger

…feels so good.

evidently my addiction has not subsided. he remains present and I will be seeing him this week.

i have no soul it seems.

no soul or self control.

there’s a way to kiss and make-up for the lies and twists hidden between significant friendships. only time can heal these wounds and even if the scar tissue was cut open after the stitches were removed months ago you could still end up bleeding blue blood. i rolled up a photograph and slipped it into an empty wine jug carefully packed at the bottom of an old treasure chest buried in a hope cove. the fragile stickers have been worn off for years and the last drop stained the edge of my imagination when i fit the cork back on top. there’s a hand drawn map folded in my pocket and i never leave home without the broken compass concealed in a hand me down locket. a fortune teller once told me i hold the soul of a young love who was taken away before she was supposed to go. i wonder if that’s the reason why i always find i myself in the wrong place at the right time or if patients is playing tricks on me while i sit and wait for the one and only who can show me directions back to where i will dig up my time capsule. eventually i’ll be able to replace the pair of white lace gloves i borrowed to brush off all the dust and uncover what i had to forget to loose on purpose.

i love new york but j’tadore paris. i’ve never been there but i’m supposed to live there. i’ve said this for years. at a fair in the county of orange a palm reader told me it was meant to be. she said i was destined for a happy ending and that the soul mate i was yet to meet is friends with friends of friends. three two one degrees of separation then on and on about how i surround myself with fame plus fortune. they sing and i dance to harmonica bass ukulele bongos and tambourine all wrapped up like the present inside the world that revolves around who we’ve scene. this gypsie told me my aura was the color of burnt umber and that i would have to wait for what my third eye refused to see. i responded with patience is my only vice and i have a tendency to refuse to think twice before i end up in a position that i’m not supposed to be in. whatever worked must only work for them.

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. . .