La Jota Nasty****OOTD

Howdy everyone,

Jota here--OOTD is #bary #more.

I learned my body

was not mine.

They are watching

us all in their minds,

burning with rage and

desire. When I was young

I touched an electrical plug

just to feel the surge of energy

I otherwise could never know.

Today the vibe is Butterflies. Drew Barrymore in Grey Gardens. Purple-and-gold-accented fan we found on the ground near Parque Revolución. It's me in a park called blue waters, agua azul.

Today the vibe is parrots fighting in the locked aviary while we cock our heads behind a family of four women: grandmother, mother, two daughters.

The vibe today is leopard-print knock off platform crocs. The vibe today is strapless black corsetted romper from La Perla off Chapultapec.

Today the vibe is walking through the city and absorbing the range of confused/hateful/laughing glances at my outfit, my face. My face is completely covered by sunglasses and a mask. I still don't feel hidden enough.

I bought a purple wig and a pair of stripper heels. Jota's first wig. Jota's first stripper heels. I can be whoever I want. I felt like Britney Spears with the long locks of sleek florescence, when she wore wigs after shaving her head.

I'm ready to be interviewed by David Letterman, who pretends he understands a single thing about me. The camera zooms in, framing the tattoo on my lower back so most Americans can gasp. I will flash David, I will dance on his desk proclaiming, "But I am Lolita. But I am Lolita. But I am Lolita." Cheek Kiss. What a pleasure, always a pleasure.

End, smirk, cut away. Is this what you wanted us to be?

It's not a joke. This is my fucking life.

****

Platform Leopard Print Knock-off Crocs: Cape Robbin Gardening Clogs https://caperobbin.com/products/cargardener-chunky-platform-ankle-strap-cut-out-hole-sandal?_pos=6&_sid=e7c1114a2&_ss=r

Fan: Found on the ground near Parque Revolución https://goo.gl/maps/uRcAwirejfT87KYP6

Romper: La Perla https://www.facebook.com/laperlarecordsgdl/

Fanny Pack: Muji https://www.muji.com/my/products/cmdty/detail/4550182016093

beetle necklace: Street Vendor/jewelry designer in Williamsburg, Brooklyn

Blue Hat: Ross Dress for Less

Drew Barrymore always a pleasure but I am I am I am strangers & friends

kiwi fresa electrolit I toss my fan aside, onto the ground I stomp around and look everyone in the eyes from behind my hat brim

my prescription sunglasses, my mask I don't want anyone to look at me but I'm too young and talented unavoidable::my mother

put me in an institution at age 13 boo hoooooooo booo boooo hooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo All I can say about it now

is I needed it.

It was the first time

It was the first tinderbox I learned my bolero was not mine. They are watching us all in their minims, burning with raincoats and destruction. When I was young I touched an electrical plush just to feel the surrogate of enjoyment I otherwise could never know.

It was the fiver tinkle I learned my bomb was not mine. They are watching us all in their ministries, burning with raisins and detectors. When I was young I touched an electrical pock just to feel the survival of enquiry I otherwise could never know.

It was the fitting tinker I learned my bolt-hole was not mine. They are watching us all in their ministers, burning with raise and detectives. When I was young I touched an electrical poacher just to feel the surveyor of enormity I otherwise could never know.

The first time, he slid his hands over my chest too quickly, and his eyes glazed over. His pupils widened. He drooled onto my face. It was not the first time. I learned my body was not for myself. It was the last time.

The first tinderbox, he slid his handicrafts over my chest too quickly, and his eyewashes glazed over. His purls widened. He drooled onto my factotum. It was not the first tinderbox. I learned my bolero was not mine. It was the last tinderbox.

The fiver tinkle, he slid his handlings over my chill too quickly, and his fabrications glazed over. His purses widened. He drooled onto my failing. It was not the fiver tinkle. I learned my bomb was not mine. It was the last tinkle.

The fitting tinker, he slid his handlers over my childminder too quickly, and his fabrics glazed over. His purrs widened. He drooled onto my faggot. It was not the fitting tinker. I learned my bolt-hole was not mine. It was the last tinker.

Sometimes we need to electrify ourselves in order to be seen. Sometimes we need to put on a purple wig to feel inconspicuous in a city we don't know. I hope you all have an amazing day.

Love,

Jota