Blood and Guts in High School

Read Blood and Guts in High School for Free Online

Book: Read Blood and Guts in High School for Free Online
Authors: Kathy Acker
Tags: Fiction, General
the Connecticut town.
    We stole.
    Me and Monkey were the first to steal. We were high on meth. We ripped off Bloomingdale's, a big department store in New York City.
    I was going somewhere my father and his girlfriend were also going. Johnny and his girlfriend wanted nothing to do with me.
    We took a taxi to Bloomingdale's so we could be straight. I was dressed in a red wool suit and a light brown wool coat. It's necessary to be straight when you steal.
    I was hanging on to the end of the taxi Johnny and his girlfriend had picked me up in. Clearly they wanted nothing to do with me. The rest of Johnny's rock band were in the car.
    As soon as Monkey and I got to Bloomingdale's, we separated. I checked my appearance. My dark curly hair, light makeup, and dark red suit made me look like a nice, rich girl. I wanted to stay that way. Being nice and rich is a dream. I checked my vibes. I told myself to stay guarded, slow and calm. As I entered the store, I checked out the store's vibes. No one was following me.
    Daddy and I are standing in the downstairs of the Laguna Beach Hotel, which is Nixon's favourite hotel. Facing me there's a rectangular white wall. A few feet below this white wall and to its right, single stairs with no back move upwards. Further to the right, another large
----
    rectangular white wall. Set in this wall, one-third of its width further right, an absolutely black hallway. Above this white wall, empty space; above the empty space, a white hanging rectangle means a room. There's nothing around these walls, staircase, and hall.
    Back east, architectural objects are connected to, hidden in each other.
    I move alone without daddy forwards BACKWARDS through the hotel. The hotel is now, is really large transparent squares. I glide to the final back room.
    The back wall of this room is really windows. Windows are opaque. Windows through which I'm seeing a black phosphorescent ocean. None of the men in daddy's band want to be with me and daddy's with Sally. I want to go swimming I have to go swimming. The ocean is bright green, even though it's night. The ocean is glowing.
    Now the window is totally transparent. Through it I see a man's body as if dead turning in the sparkling green water.
    I wanted a fur coat.
    Little halls surround one long black major hall. Thin white walls, almost non-existent, separate these halls.
    I bought a red sweater in the Junior Department on the third floor so anyone who was watching would know that I wasn't a thief.
    Then I rode the escalator upstairs to the Fur Department. Tossing my brown woolen coat across a rack, I tried on fur after fur. Stealing is luxury. Ten or fifteen minutes later the salesgirl had to run across the hall to get change.
    Of course, daddy and Sally and the boys in his band are given their rooms first. My room is the room no one else in the world wants.
    My bedroom is the huge white hexagon in the front left corner of the hotel. It has no clear outside or inside or any architectural regularity. Long white pipes form part of its ceiling. Two of its sides, which two is always changing, are open.
    My bedroom's function is also unclear. Its only furniture is two barber's chairs and a toilet. It's a gathering place for men.
    Hotel men dressed in white and black come in and want to hurt me. They cut away parts of me. I call for the hotel head. He explains that my bedroom used to be the men's toilet. I understand.
    My cunt used to be a men's toilet.
    I walk out in a leopard coat.
    Dear dreams,
    You are the only thing that matters. You are my hope and I live for and in you. You are rawness and wildness, the colours, the scents, passion, events appearing. You are the things I live for. Please take me over.
    Dreams cause the vision world to break loose our consciousness.
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    Dreams by themselves aren't enough to destroy the blanket of dullness.
    The dreams we allow to destroy us cause us to be visions/see the vision world.
    Every day a sharp tool, a powerful destroyer, is

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