House of Wax

I had a strange thought yesterday. I heard Kristen and Louie talking around the house, but I couldn't see them. I searched around and around but couldn't for the life of me find them. I saw the sprinkler going outside, meaning someone must have been out there watering the grass. I then saw Kristen's dress blowing in the wind, looking almost like nobody was inside of it.

What if I had made up all of my closest friends within my psyche? I had actually bought the Monroe House, and every friend holed up within it was a different side of my emotions, ambition, and failure. I've been talking to myself for the past two years, in a house all by myself. I mimic the nuances of each persona, having each take over my body. They all have the same way of talking, so you'd never know I was switching personalities.

Kristen: my sex appeal. Indulging in feeling good, wearing clothes without a care for the consequences, she's the skin of my being, an epidermis that attracts others to look at me. People feed off of me, but they're really feeding of my Kristen multiple personality.

Louie: ambition and logic. Confidence and drive, he is the one who both gives me my day job and strives for the dream of Patch. He was also the one I destroyed onstage night after night in Citizens Banned -- symbolically, isn't that like me trampling all over sanity? People thought I was nuts afterward. Raping my frontal lobe.

Adri: my emotional core. He is also my conscience, assessing my goals, whether or not I should bail on situations. He also holds my wit and humor. When I'm at social gatherings, I'm Adri. If I've disappeared for a long time, no phone calls, you think I've committed suicide or hopped a train to some far off land, you'll know that it's because Adri took hold of my brain a little too long.

Taylor: all of my artistic crass and ambition through the way of creation is through Taylor. My nice side. My approachable side. The only reason I get girls is because of Taylor's persona within me.

Marta: She is my polish sausage link, my Id. My lusts and catharses come from her. Please her and you've made me your slave. She is the gatekeeper to having me approve of you being around my person (or persons).

After I ran through this lineup, I forgot what it was I was supposed to do, and settled on looking at my beard in the mirror for five minutes. Weird morning.

Wesley Willis -- "Suck My Dog's Dick"