this is what Bonni's music feels like....

My friend wrote me that she feels like s&m has walked out the door of her life, and that it just takes honesty to get inside of her, instead of having to break down the walls with pain. But I feel like I am going backwards from that space; the walls are building themselves up inside of me, like a little girl is crawling up into my stomach and hiding herself in the wet walls of my insides. And it seems like there is nothing but the tearing of those walls that would make her come out and scream and cry and feel the fresh air so that I could feel young and free. There is just so much I don't want to deal with right now. My whole life has been changed, at least for the next year. All of the schools said no, so I won't be moving, won't have a reason to quit my job and travel, won't have an arbitrary situation that cues me to finally call 'bullshit' on John for disappointing me... It's like I'm in the middle of a lake, and all I want to do is float here in the water, where nothing can reach me except for the soft motions of the tide, and if I let my head slip underwater, I can't hear the people and obligations that are screaming for me to come back to the shore. And it's so calm underwater, but my fingers are pruning, and my hair is getting tangled in my face, and I can't move myself quickly with the water pushing all around me. But it's so quiet, and so calm... and I know I should come back for air, and let my skin dry so that I don't rot, but I just want to sleep, to float in the comfort of unconsciousness.

watch what you mutherfucking wish for.

I just heard from UCSC today. Nope. That makes all three of the grad schools I applied to. All of them. And I can't even tell you about how awful the situation that Bonni is in was. I'm trying to advocate for her a little bit; I called the news today, hoping that they'll get down on that shithole that they sent her to. It's outfuckingrageous. We sat all day with her on Friday, watching the med assistants and orderlies come into her room and look around the curtain at the 101 year old deaf and mute lady with a look on their face that said, "I think... uh... she looks... uh.."

Yup, she was dead all day. And it took them all day to bring other people in to check to make sure that she was dead. They're also denying Bonni the drugs she's prescribed half the time (maybe because they're taking her oxycontin and dilaudid themselves, hmmm?), but sometimes giving her the shot in her leg to thin her blood three times instead of two per day, (maybe because no-one is washing her properly or moving her every couple of hours, so she's at risk of bed sores and staph infections, hmmm?)... Well... that's only the beginning of the crap. Like when they emptied her catheter and didn't close it, so by morning time her piss was all over the floor. How about that, huh? Or the doctor who didn't call her perscription in to the pharmacy? And then came by and told her she'd be getting speech therapy. That girl has absolutely nothing wrong with her speech. She talks more than a speed freak, and is still as incredibly fucking hilarious as she's ever been. She made us laugh about all of that crap most of the time we were there. But she can't fucking move herself or walk. What the fuck does she need speech therapy for, huh?
I want to kill. Tomorrow I'll be contacting M.A.D.D. Who would have ever thought that, huh?

This week makes me violent.

But you should buy Bonni's album; it is fucking amazing. Swans and Twin Peaks influences can be heard, samples, and her amazing performances... I love it.

www.fearofdolls.com

This site will also link you to the fund for her benefit, although you can donate at any Washington Mutual to the account for the Benefit of Bonni Suval.
Do it.