Page 17 of Pieces of Ash
I see her eyes when I bring someone home. I try not to look, but I see. She hates me and thinks I’m a slut. Well, I am a slut. And she can hate me all she wants. I’m all she’s fucking got.
We were doing okay for a while there. I got clean. The kid was going to private school. I don’t know when things started to slip. I only know they’re fucking slipping now, and I should stop using but I can’t. I fucking can’t, okay?
I missed this morning’s job call, and they hired Jane Fake Tits Simpkins to do the shoot instead. A little late and I’m out. Well, fuck them. If they want Fake Jane, they can have her. I’ll find a different gig. Miranda says I’m a pain in the ass andpoison and no one wants to shoot me, but fuck, I’m also Tigín. Youngest bitch to own the catwalk since Twiggy. So she can just unwad her granny panties and call me when she’s ready. Fucking Vogue or Elle or someone will call. And until then, I’ll use this journal and do my own fucking rehab for a while.
I’ll go One Day At A FUCKING Time and say to myself, TIG, You Can FUCKING Do This, and I’ll make the kid macaroni and cheese for dinner and let her watch Survivor with me later because she likes that.
I’ll get myself back on track.
It’ll all be okay.
Tig
XXXXXX
Day #2 of THE NEW YOU!
Dear FUCKING Diary,
FUCK MIRANDA.
FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK HER.
FUCK HER SAD PATHETIC LIFE AS A FUCKING AGENT BECAUSE SHE COULDN’T CUT IT IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING LENS, which is exactly what I fucking told her.
A catalog? A fucking catalog? Are you shitting me? It’s been four weeks without a job, so I call you to see what’s up, and you offer me a fucking catalog shoot?
Do I LOOK like a fucking catalog model to you, you nearsighted fucking cow?
“What do you say, Tig? It’s the best I can do.”
Know what I said?
I said, “SHOVE YOUR FUCKING CATALOG JOB UP YOUR FUCKING ASS.”
So she said we’re done.
Just like that. After 8 fucking years. WE’RE DONE.
Well, FUCK YOU, MIRANDA, and good luck getting 8 years out of Fake Jane.
I was done with Wilhelmina anyway. I’ll find someone else to rep me, for fuck’s sake.
I called Gus, and he said to send Miranda flowers and say I’m sorry and take the catalog job. And then, while I’m talking to him, the fucking landlord calls AGAIN for April rent but fuck him too. He can cool his fucking jets. I just need time. I’ll come back. Ialwayscome back.
Fuck the landlord.
Fuck Gus.
Fuck Miranda.
Fuck this journal.
And fuck the kid looking at me with big eyes, hoping I’ll stay home tonight. No fucking way. I’m going out.
Tig
XXXXXXX
