Wednesday, August 18, 2010


by Misti Rainwater-Lites

I do not feel comfortable telling you these things. If my mother finds out she will stop buying me tacos and pedicures. My friends will disown me. My son will Google my name someday and say,"Mommy is quite the whore." Still, I soldier on in my muddy bloody combat boots as this jungle of self-discovery and show & tell is the only terrain I know and trust.

I am addicted to masturbating to pictures of Faith. If you would like to see pictures of Faith simply Google "Faith Big Tits." She is British. She has big real tits and she wears an expression that makes me wish I had a dick.

I am addicted to the process of writing and revising and sharing and self-publishing and submitting to various online and print zines. I am addicted to taking pictures of toys, spiders, myself, garbage, food, murals, buildings, the wondrous world around me. I have asked my husband if I can take pictures of his cock and balls. He says NO.

I am addicted to driving and listening to "I Feel You" by Depeche Mode and fantasizing that the man I feel feels me, too. I know he doesn't feel me like I feel him but I enjoy deluding myself that he does. I am addicted to the words the mind the spirit of the man I feel. I am addicted to loving this man who does not love me back. I am addicted to sending him e-mail and gifts and snail mail. I was addicted to calling him but I deleted his phone number from my cell phone so that I will be less invasive in his life.

I am addicted to sniffing Pine-Sol and Kiwi shoe polish. Whenever I am shopping in Wal-Mart I make a beeline for the shoe section. I open up a tin of Kiwi black shoe polish and aaaahhhh...the angels sing. I do not open up a bottle of Pine-Sol, or haven't lately, as sniffing Pine-Sol gives me a nasty headache. I also enjoy spraying the glaze I used when I was making domino pendants into the air and sniffing the air. I also enjoy sniffing my funky arm pits.

I am addicted to Facebook. I am addicted to finding out which book of the Bible I am (Revelations), which famous dead writer I am (Oscar Wilde), which Peanuts character I am (Snoopy), chatting with Shane Allison, writing on Lara Konesky's wall and imagining that my male friends are in love with me based on my status updates and photo albums.

I am addicted to my blog. I am addicted to coffee. I am addicted to sodium. I am addicted to candy. I am addicted to YouTube. I am addicted to Ezra Pound and Federico Garcia Lorca. I am addicted to books. I am addicted to buying books and cds and dvds at eBay and I am addicted to my fantasy life. Someday I will live in a studio in the Mission district of San Francisco with long straight Cookie Monster blue hair and "How does my ass smell?" tattooed on my left arm in Sinhalese. I will be a burlesque dancer. I will be the darling of the poetry scene. Many people will wish to fuck me but I will not let them. Too, I will picnic in various parks. I will mostly eat Chinese food because I am also addicted to MSG and Chinese cookie fortunes.

Misti Rainwater-Lites encourages you to buy her books at, especially Bullshit Rodeo, her most ambitious and fascinating novel to date. Her favorite word in the English language is chlamydia.


  1. everytime i read about ptsd, a car backfiring is used as an example. i either haven't ever heard a car backfire, or i'm so spaced out that i haven't noticed. i worry this makes me a mental illness noob.

    yes. expand this alarming and enlightening blog. MIFTI.