09.17.14 // WHEN I WAS…

You could have caught me at the magazine release party, the runway show. Could have found me in the gifting suite, the handicapped stall in the unisex bathroom. I’d have been spinning and my eyes would have been wet like they always were. They had a strange permanence then, glossy retinas, like I was always ready to cry. 

I would have been shouting something, drinking what-the-fuck-ever and dancing to gangster rap with those big, red, teary eyes. Downtown demon. City sprite. 

I’d tell you that I loved you. That it’s just SOOOOOO HARD to meet people in (insert whichever major city we’d be in at the time) and how it’s just SOOOOOO NICE to meet someone as real as you. Then I’d ask you if you had any blow. You’d say yes because they always did and then I would rob you blind.

"Sorry. I’m a heavy breather, I’ve got a deviated septum. My treat next time!"

That phrase, the whole “next time” bit; It was as elusive as I was. An L.A. ghost, I haunted nightclubs and galleries, dive bars and studios. Light on my feet, always slipping away to elsewhere.

God forbid you ever met me again, God forbid you ever thought I’d return a favor, I would avoid your gaze. If eyes met, I’d suck in my cheeks, wet my teeth with my tongue and introduce myself all over again like we’d never met. 

I’d turn my back to you and kiss cheeks with the owner of the studio, the gallery, the bar, the club. I’d close off the embrace with a swift declaration of self-destruction. 

"Just hear me out… this is why I absolutely CAN NOT stand (insert any photographer’s name here)." I’d be playing with the seams in my hand-stitched designer tee and jittering. "He tried to assault me when I was fourteen."

Everyone around us would be annoyed, but they would give me full attention. You would too. Like a car accident, it’s hard to look away. A party photographer would interrupt my one-ended conversation with whoever-wasn’t-you and I’d flash him a seductive over-the-shoulder-glance. I’d wink and I’d stick out my tongue.

"Regardless, all that stupid faux-Richard flash and the oral fixation…" Back to reality, I probably would have lit a cigarette by now. "I mean, like, really. It’s been done. D’ya’know’whaddimean?"

You could have caught me any place. Any night of the week. High and getting higher. A walking, scratch that, stumbling time bomb. An in-home terrorist attack on the millennials. An inversive testament to moderation.

I would have bled you dry. I would have eaten you alive. I would have ruined your life and you would have thanked me for it. 

You could have seen me anywhere, and I would have fascinated you before I disappointed you.  

09.17.14 // CLEANING UP

Anytime I used to close my eyes and allow myself to sift through the silt and soft mud in the back of my head, untouched sediment from my childhood— the kind of stuff that really gets shrinks’ rocks off—, I would emerge feeling cold and inexplicably alone.

I used to catch myself wondering what that kid, me then, would think if he saw me now, or worse yet, at sixteen. If we met face-to-face in some sort of weird, Sofia-Coppola-does-Back-to-the-Future kind of way, would he feel sad, would he be scared, or would he find himself disgustingly drawn to it all, the way so many others had been over the years?

 Back then, I was booking jobs every day and getting high every night. People were paying me to take my picture and I had memorized the both the Los Angeles and New York city metro/subway maps by heart (or what was left of it at the time), but at what cost? Did the ends justify the means?

 At seventeen, I got out of a cab in Alphabet city, spun like twine and chewing Nicorette gum. I was wearing a rabbit fur coat that I bartered from a street vendor in Brooklyn and texting my mother.

###-####: NO IT’S FINE. I’M FINE. I PROMISE. I WAS JUST FEELING OVERWHELMED. GOODNIGHT.

 I lit a cigarette on a friend’s fire escape, alone in the apartment, shivering and telling myself that it was okay. That all of this was okay.

It’s not how everybody else lives but it is how you live and that’s fine. It is unconventional, but it’s your life and it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

 I smoked six more cigarettes in twenty-three minutes and I psyched myself out thinking about what would happen if the people in my life that I love knew (OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHAT IF THEY ACTUALLY KNEW // OH JESUS CHRIST DO THEY) how rampantly fucked-up I’d gotten, how badly I’d disintegrated.

 I told myself that I was completely inoperative and lame and that nobody else (IN THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD) could possibly be feeling/have felt these things ever. I ashed my cigarette in a half-empty bottle of champagne and I told myself it was okay.

It’s going to be okay.

I close my eyes nowadays and I dig, and I dig, and I dig. I emerge feeling lonely, but not alone.

 Back then— back in those grotesque glory days with the furs and the drugs and the over-exposed portraits of me wearing soft skin and sharp bones— it was all about showing off. Showing off the damage, playing vulnerable and open to keep people from digging any deeper. All circus mirrors and dope smoke, talking so loudly that no one could ask questions.

 It’s different now. I’ve lowered my voice, my walls. I am not alone. There are people in this world who still— even after all of this—, want to talk to me, want to get to know me. People who accept things in full. People who gravitate toward the messiness.

 People who are excited to see how I clean up.

I like messy people; people who don’t fit in a box or stay between the lines, but whose integrity is greater than any rule book and whose loyalty is stronger than blood.

Jim Wern  (via spoilsofmatter)

I just went for a 3 mile run bc I am a masochist and I have no self-respect and now my entire life hurts. ☀️💦 //
#91thousanddamndegrees

I just went for a 3 mile run bc I am a masochist and I have no self-respect and now my entire life hurts. ☀️💦 //
#91thousanddamndegrees

Anonymous asked:

I remember when your first book came out, the outro was a poem about dark reaching a point where it couldn't get any darker and light always having the ability to get lighter. It was very beautiful, but then you wrote ICFMF and you were even worse than before. Do you still stand by your words from the first book?

I do. I absolutely do. I was seventeen when I released LT//LY. I wrote that in hopes that I had reached my darkest but, obviously, that wasn’t the case. Maybe it’s that whole thing where things have to get worse before they get better. Regardless, I do believe that the light is always there if you’re open to it.

UP HERE THE NIGHT IS TANGLED AND BLACK LIKE YOUR EX-DEALER’S SHEETS/ THE WORLD SOFTLY TWINKLING BENEATH YOU/ YOU WONDER IF THERE IS A WAY TO SEE IT ALL LAID OUT BEFORE YOU LIKE THIS AND NOT BE SO SICKENINGLY ATTRACTED TO IT. // #pillpoetry #hasanybodyseenmyphone

UP HERE THE NIGHT IS TANGLED AND BLACK LIKE YOUR EX-DEALER’S SHEETS/ THE WORLD SOFTLY TWINKLING BENEATH YOU/ YOU WONDER IF THERE IS A WAY TO SEE IT ALL LAID OUT BEFORE YOU LIKE THIS AND NOT BE SO SICKENINGLY ATTRACTED TO IT. // #pillpoetry #hasanybodyseenmyphone

An excerpt from my exclusive and untitled piece for @THEORIEMAG’s “The Margins” issue. Check it out now at theoriemag.com/the-issue #theoriemag //
Photo by @CameronLeePhan

An excerpt from my exclusive and untitled piece for @THEORIEMAG’s “The Margins” issue. Check it out now at theoriemag.com/the-issue #theoriemag //
Photo by @CameronLeePhan

Can’t stop laughing at the fact that this photo was taken from three different perspectives at the exact same time. #art
Cc: @laurenwithrow @laurynholmquist @cameronleephan

Can’t stop laughing at the fact that this photo was taken from three different perspectives at the exact same time. #art
Cc: @laurenwithrow @laurynholmquist @cameronleephan

“I think that if you doing drugs is the most interesting thing about you, then you don’t have a lot going on […] I also think that it’s kind of dumb, the glamorizing thing, that specific term. Saying that I glamorize drug use is stupid because if you’ve read the book, there’s nothing really glamorous about it. It’s really shitty and it’s really sad. But, I will say that I do think there is a huge difference between glamorizing drug use and being glamorous while using drugs. [Laughs.]”
            –Kris Kidd, interviewed by Nicola Wali for Théorie magazine

Photos by Cameron Lee Phan
[Full interview and spread at theoriemag.com/the-issue]

“I think that if you doing drugs is the most interesting thing about you, then you don’t have a lot going on […] I also think that it’s kind of dumb, the glamorizing thing, that specific term. Saying that I glamorize drug use is stupid because if you’ve read the book, there’s nothing really glamorous about it. It’s really shitty and it’s really sad. But, I will say that I do think there is a huge difference between glamorizing drug use and being glamorous while using drugs. [Laughs.]”

            –Kris Kidd, interviewed by Nicola Wali for Théorie magazine

Photos by Cameron Lee Phan

[Full interview and spread at theoriemag.com/the-issue]

“Kidd is the unabashed apostle of the internet generation, penning transgressive narratives that exploit the concept of pop culture as a meaningless surrogate for faith. Best known for his darkly satiric prose, Kidd tastefully injects shards of humor into his fractured dialect. He handily slips into discussions of self-destruction as skillfully as he traverses the complex ethical philosophy behind substance abuse.”
            –Nicola Wali, Théorie magazine
Photos by Cameron Lee Phan
[Full interview and spread at theoriemag.com/the-issue]

“Kidd is the unabashed apostle of the internet generation, penning transgressive narratives that exploit the concept of pop culture as a meaningless surrogate for faith. Best known for his darkly satiric prose, Kidd tastefully injects shards of humor into his fractured dialect. He handily slips into discussions of self-destruction as skillfully as he traverses the complex ethical philosophy behind substance abuse.”

            –Nicola Wali, Théorie magazine

Photos by Cameron Lee Phan

[Full interview and spread at theoriemag.com/the-issue]