By Sarah P
03-01-93
Now listen, I don’t know who you are or why you’re reading this but I have this theory that if you write something down, no matter how well you hide it, someone will read it. Somehow. Which is why they invented paper shredders. I know this to be true and yet I feel this compulsion to write everything down and keep it. It helps me think and then I see what I’ve written and it’s a part of me that I would shred just as soon as I’d shred my right arm. I give up. I give up. I’ll hide it all here in plain site. Maybe if I don’t try to hide it, it’ll get ignored.
So anyway, what I want you to know is that none of this is anyone’s business but my own. If you don’t agree with what I write, put this down and leave me alone. If I offend you, all the better, serves you right. Just don’t ever let on to me that you’ve read this. It’ll only upset me and I’ll never speak to you again.
_______________________________________________
Last night I dreamt that I had one of those big leather swing-type things hanging from the ceiling in my bedroom. There were thick silver chains holding it together. It upset me ’cause I didn’t know what you were supposed to do with it and it took up a lot of room. Even though I wasn’t sure of it’s purpose, it had a definite obscene look to it. So how could I explain it to any various parental types who might come through? Or Fredrick? What if Fredrick saw that thing? What could I say? A monument to my undefined deviance? All I know is that I was relieved that it was gone when I woke up. I’m also very pleased that I seldom remember any dreams that I might have.
__________________________________________________
03-03-93
I would like my death certificate to read “Death by Misadventure”. That is John Hiatt’s fault, he put that in my head. I’m not sure how I’m going to achieve this but it’s important. It defines my life so well. Maybe I’ll put some money aside towards a bribe for the coroner. How much could that cost?
_______________________________________________
L.A. County Coroner
1104 N. Mission Ave.
Los Angeles, CA 90033
March 04, 1993
Dear Coroner,
I am leading such a ridiculous life that I am sure that my death will be imbecilic. I would like for you to give me a list of ways to die that would qualify as “Death by Misadventure”. This is what I would like to have on my death certificate. I believe that if I have some foreknowledge of the requirements I could, perhaps, have some psychic power over how I expire.
Thank you for your consideration. I hope that I haven’t taken up too much of your time.
Yours truly,
Sarah P
____________________________________________________
03-04-93
There’s a stain in my bathroom sink shaped exactly like Jesus Christ on the cross. You can only see it on overcast mornings. I sit in there with my coffee and contemplate who, or if, I should tell. I do not have room for a shrine. And I have to tell you, I really don’t like the idea of hordes of Christians bowing and scraping and kneeling and praying in my front yard. I don’t think it would be good for the lawn. Also, I just know that the day channel 4 comes by it will be bright and sunny and Christ won’t show. Better to just buy some Ajax.
___________________________________________________