I have everything neatly lined up in several rows, all managing to quietly mock the chaos of my life. I think this sense of minimalism or neatness that I think i crave is all fake. I like clutter. Think better with clutter. Am more inspired by clutter. But, I try to pretend that clutter is not the way of my world. I try to pretend that I am neat and exist within the boundaries of sanity—not boring, but not too eccentric. I took out my nose ring and bought clogs. Traded my roughness for traditional working-girl comfort. Some might say that I have sold my soul to the man, that I am part of the establishment now. And I am. there are unchecked realities that are made comfortable by the establishment. like paying rent and taking the bus and scheduling dentist appointments.