slowly, slowly

i am late on The Jog because i've been scrambling around in my poems this morning. always playing, rearranging, finding. poems are strange. sometimes i love them, sometimes i hate them, sometimes they embarrass the hell out of me.

anyway, i have no clue what number draft this is or if this poem is even done, but i thought i'd give it a little breathing room. sometimes the work gets better once i decide to stop hiding it.



daily, daily

for Jared who goes on loving me even though i'm crazy





against a white wall without
portraits, all my hairs
in their proper place.

quiet as a candle
and ink stains on everything- i feign,
burned down to a stump-

i say 'please'.
i try
to keep my hair in place.

a thread
decided to dangle,
tickled

my red rims.
a lost lash
behind the lid.

fingernails in the paint,
hair in the baseboards.
and i've tried so hard to keep things clean.


(pretty girl, pretty girl, you are a strange water.
dark as carbon. your ships gone sour.
your hair is a wreck.)


the grapes fell.
turned to wasps.
i go dry of excuse.



he kissed my hands.
he tucked me in.

meekest.

mildest.

a cup of grass and butter.


he let my hair down.
he took the pins out.

this day

i woke and wrote. wrote and wrote and wrote and checked the date, checked the calender.

it is the last day of november.

some sense of fear welled up.
some sense of excitement.
this thin day- the eve of december.
cold.
bright.
a needle.

is it dipped in silver?

my hope flies up. the new year is almost here. the same hope i had this day a year ago. but our year fell to disrepair almost as quickly as the year before it. i am anxious for a good one. or anxious for my eyes to change. i want to see the good. i want to be aware. but the fear comes closer... this is how it goes.

will the silver tarnish?

my child-like hope. my wishing well. my small want for everything to be okay.

star light, star bright. you sit there in your cold orbit, little star, with your fingers jammed in your stupid fucking pointy ears. have you heard me even once? have you ever heard anyone? prayers filed away between planets, gone unheard, unnoticed, and our world is spinning, spinning, spinning.

i am doing my best to listen.

i am doing my best to dig my self out, away from this type of grim anxiety. hope and fear, back and forth, back and forth. let me stay on the good ground, planted in hope, planted in the sun. let me think of the forest. let me think of my mother and the forest behind her, behind her roses. deer-bitten. slowly frozen. the forest is not to blame. crackling. the sounds are strange. it is easy to become afraid.

i am doing my best to listen.

this day.
this thin day.
this eve.
the cold sweeps in but the sun is out, unclouded. the crow comes to squawk. the branches come down. the vines twist and grow. my feet will pound and my heart and my breath and my hope. pound, pound, pound their way toward the end of the year. the thread end. the needle cut loose. a new eye to push myself through.

i am doing my best to taste the silver below the tarnish.

i am doing my best to listen.

magic

awake, awake, awake after a good, warm, deep sleep and i don't remember any dreams at all. we got in bed a few hours early to read and ended up staying up a few hours late. we nested down side by side in all the big pillows and ate strawberries and pistachios as the pages turned and turned. and i noticed right away how good and softly romantic it all was and felt so thankful and happy. i wondered how many couples do things like this, or even how many friends, in pajamas and blankets, curl up together with books and things to munch and i hope most people do.

i read, all in one sitting, 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'. and on the 2nd page i thought, 'this is a story i'll read over and over again. this is a story i need to read over and over again'. i wanted to begin again at the beginning the second i finished it and commit the little rhymes and songs to memory before i moved on to 'Through the Looking Glass'. twinkle, twinkle, little bat. i read it like a child and didn't look for any symbolism or any of that junk whatsoever. i just read it and got lifted away by it, let the writing sink in to me and swim around and reek some wonder in my bones and brain, let the silliness spawn and multiply. my dear radish king is right- this story has magic in it and i can't believe i never read it until last night. the writing is just so good and so so musical. infectiously musical and full!

and when i went outside this morning with my coffee and my notebook and my dog, there was a wild turkey right there at the line of the forest, trying to fly, flying a foot or two at a time, back and forth, going nowhere at all, back and forth and gobbling all the while. inga sniffed the air and figured she'd find the ball she stole from the neighbor's dog instead of watch the turkey with me. the boredom of a rottweiler makes no sense. but i watched the poor, stupid thing and eventually it waddled its way deeper in to the trees, gobbling and gobbling, and a new bird with a weird squawk came to take its place.

morning

there is a heavy and loud wind coming down from the forest. heavy and oppressive. gorgeous. and then a thick silence. no cars on the road even. dead silence. and yellow leaves spinning. i hear it before i feel it, the rush, the screech of tall trees swaying and whining. limbs are coming down. inga raises her noise and catches the strange scents of deer and bobcat carried down to us from the high forest.

there is something eerie in the silence that follows and the blue light of this morning. there is something forbidding in it. ominous, in spite of its luxurious feel and sound. disconcerting and strange. the yellow leaves spin. they are the signal. they are a warning. my pages flutter. there is an awful determination in this weather. the tall trees sway and drop their pods. the squirrels are gone.

if i had tough shoes and a better coat- a good coat that i could get dirty- it would be a day for brave photography. the solitude and loneliness of the camera. there is that type of death in this wind- the death of frozen things, people held down, and cars turned on their side.

huge branches are starting to fall now.

and last night i lay awake a long time and my thoughts turned angry, hurt, selfish. desirous. i couldn't sleep. was it 'The Bloody Chamber'? i couldn't get comfortable. even the pillows became cynical, ill at ease, uncomfortable, and inadequate. i tossed and turned in my angry thoughts for hours. this wind, in from under the front door, rattled my heart and made it hurt, made it go mean.

i woke and found things on the ground that weren't here before. the forest branches and bits of litter from the highway. the wind is to blame. i woke and all the angry thoughts had been carried off. i woke happy:

the coffee in my new white mug and the pen in my hand,
the new white page waiting.

sigh...

the house is warm and the left-overs are tucked away safely in the fridge. i had ham and mashed potatoes once already today and plan to have another plate of said deliciousness once more before bed. it is the third ham i've ever made and this time i got it perfectly right. it is just the right level of saltiness. so yummy. i love salty foods. and we also have a brand new bag of pistachios which will be chomped on at some point this evening as well.

we did leave the house for a while today, in spite of it being Black Friday, to go to the book store. i hate Black Friday and i do not participate. i do not find it to be exciting or exhilarating in the slightest. i don't think it's funny to be mean to people and i don't like it when i'm put in the position to be mean back just to maintain my own personal safety. there is no deal so sweet that i am bribed in to venturing out at 3am to go shopping. none. besides, seeing grandmothers fight over sweaters and grown men fight over computer screens is not joyous for me. i find it all sadly silly, to say the least, and morally abhorrent, to say it best. fuck Black Friday and all it stands for.

but the book store was pretty much as empty as it always is. sad... but at least one safe haven, one room of peace and silence, one bastion of intelligence and beauty and goodness for me to duck in to. i picked up another copy of Catcher in the Rye because some friend (i have no clue which one) stole my last copy of it. this has happened twice now. i can't make sense of it. the other thing friends, or shall i say "friends", steal from me is Hole's "Live Through This". i've had to re-buy that album more times than i can remember. it is no longer lent out to anyone. ANYONE. it's MINE MINE MINE and NO YOU CAN'T BORROW IT, DON'T EVEN LOOK AT IT!

but back to books- i also got angela carter's "The Bloody Chamber" and Lewis Carrol's "Alice in Wonderland". can you believe i've never read it? AHHHHHHHHHHH! shameful, i know! but i will rectify this most grievous trespass shortly. i promise. there's really no excuse for this except maybe that was the year i had a bad teacher or something. i really don't know. at any rate, i've got my very own copy now and will read it this winter. it seemed like the perfect book to lay in bed all day with.

and as the cashier rang me up, i noticed what a spooky little girl my purchases made me look like. it made me smile. the guy behind the counter smiled back, not creeped out in the slightest. good man.

gimme some!

inga says happy thanksgiving.

off to a good start...

i've been attempting the 'drawing a day' resolution, trying to get prepared and build up some steam for the whole thing and, let me tell you, this will be no easy task... but i'm game. and already i see it works! not just to get my juices going, but also just to lighten my mood. i can't tell you how wonderfully it kick starts the day! i highly recommend it.

anyway, the first few days of it i made pretty crappy drawings. i expected that and also expect it to keep happening. there's really no way around it. but you've got to get the crappy drawings done and out of the way to get to a good one, right. and so...


untitled (sisters)
11" x 7.5"
water soluble graphite and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009

round two of this particular image. and it definitely won't be the last. there's just something about those white socks and black sandals. some sort of nostalgia or longing or painful expectation, assumption, requirement...

i don't know, i just like it. i'm excited to see where it will go. and me along with it.

soon, i'll be heading over to my neighbor's house to devise a plan of attack for thanksgiving. we are joining forces and i am so excited! she's got the turkey, i've got the ham, and there are tons of potatoes (sweet and not sweet) and brussel sprouts and deviled eggs and cranberry sauce and on and on and on. and this will all be for 5 maybe 6 people. hahahahaha! gluttony! about this time tomorrow, i'm sure i'll already be wondering why the hell i suggested this and will promptly begin feeling disgusted with myself. until then (and even after), i'm going head first.

good morning!

new forks in the drawer. forks of my choosing. can you believe this is the very first time its happened? it's true. i've moved away from my hand-me-down flatware and got some that i actually like. form and function. a style of my own choosing. for however small this seems, it actually made me very very happy. ha! silly, i know, but it's the small things, right? and also, new bowls in the cupboard. bright white porcelain. just two. one for me, one for my sweetie. and this ensures there will never be more than two bowls to wash on any given gluttonous day. i'm going to hide the other bowls and only use them if there's company. and only if it's company who request soup or something that needs to be eaten from a bowl. i'll hide them and not tell my sweetie where they are. yep, i hate cleaning this much. and so i'm devising crazy little schemes like these, whittling down so there isn't much to clean. and it isn't so much a choice based in some sort of anti-consumerism (though i'm on board with that too except for when it comes to cool shoes and art supplies and books), it's pretty much an anti-cleaning campaign. the less there is to be responsible for in terms of dust and crap like that, the better. the more time opens up for painting, for play, for laughter. and so i whittle whittle whittle away and make space for better things.

also, i finally got through the huge stack of composition books i bought early in the year. i filled the last page of the last book yesterday. this is a proud moment. and so now i've decided to make my own notebooks for awhile. i have so many loose sheets of paper and scraps i've saved that need to be put to some sort of use. besides, i think notebooks of the hand-made variety generally look cooler... although i've always been partial to the black and white speckled composition book. and for as silly as it may sound, the type of notebook you use definitely influences your practice. at least it's influenced mine. i need a notebook i can be rough on, scribble in, scratch out entire sentences, make mistakes, spill ink and coffee on. those fine leather journals just don't work for me. they force me to be clean and polite in a way that is sabotaging and endlessly boring. i find it hard to be honest, to be brave, when i'm worrying about my penmanship. any other writers notice this?

amends...

amends (1)
15" x 11"
ink and gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009



amends (2)
15" x 11"
gouache on paper
angela simione, 2009

p.s.

read this because this is art.

thank you.

most people wouldn't know it (at least i hope they don't) but, the truth is, i have a tendency toward sadness that is life-long. it's been a struggle of mine for as long as i can remember. even as a child, i felt sad on a pretty regular basis. things were chaotic and, in the midst of that chaos, all i ever wanted to be was pleasing.

when i was in college, i thought that the majority of that chaos had been layed to rest a long, long time ago. i was wrong. and to be perfectly honest, i've only recently gotten out from under the weight of a pretty massive and painful 2 year long depression. 2 years. that's a long time to feel bad about yourself, your life, everything. and if not for the bravery of my mother and the kind patience of my sweetheart, i'd probably still be in that horrible place of self-hate. i could not shake myself loose from it... and i can only imagine how painful it was for the people in my life who love me to watch me become so frail, so scared, so fed-up with my self... so opposite who they know me to be.

my practice slowed to a crawl. it took months to finish a painting that should've only taken a few weeks. and when i noticed this, i felt even worse. all i could see was failure. failure everywhere. not good enough, not smart enough, not refined or beautiful or important.

now, i'm amazed i got any work done at all during that time. absolutely amazed. while i was going through it, i kept reminding myself 'the work will save you. the work will save you. it's saved you so many times'. i made a point to at least try to trust it... especially when i felt there was nothing else i could trust. and there were moments all along the way where i achieved that trust but, looking back, it is glaringly apparent that i started building enormous hurdles, contingencies, expectations, and stringent rules about art, my practice, what qualifies and what doesn't, definitions for success... all which hurt my life's work... hurt me.

this blog has cataloged a lot of this in spite of my attempts to keep it quiet. it's all here. the strange struggle that i think is normal for artists. our identity is wrapped up in the work. it's impossible for the work not to suffer when we are suffering. and this isn't a bad thing so maybe i should've been more open about it at the time... it might've helped someone else. it might've helped me. but those damned contingencies were in the way and i just couldn't allow myself to share something i thought was shameful. that child's desire, the "i only ever wanted to be pleasing" was too active. i was not strong enough to expose the reality i lived in. i was afraid of getting THE LOOK. i was afraid of compromising my career, people's opinions of me, not meeting their expectations, not meeting my own.

but what about the saying 'many hands make light work'.

i take comfort in it. newly.

a comfort i historically deny myself.

it takes honesty. honesty is not any easy thing. it's hard to know, in times of deep sadness, what the truth even is, let alone speak it. but one thing is certain- my practice did save me when i let it. when i was honest, it fueled me and lifted me up. it gave me such a tremendous hope. a hope worth focusing on, keeping in front of my eyes, not blinking away.

and this space. this undefinable world, built in text and light, has become such a wonder, such a privilege... a document of hope.

today...

we woke up far too early. didn't drink nearly enough coffee. went on another house hunt. found out the house we like is beetle infested and needs a new roof. that's a big fat NO. i wore my 'i love you but' banner all around, everywhere we went, and a few people commented they liked it. bounce in my step. and then also the realization that finding a home takes a lot of luck and just the right timing. we've resigned ourselves to the NO FUN fact that it will be awhile. and so i'll go ahead and get new curtains. we need them. our little warm threadbare abode.

and so i ordered a pizza and plan to make it an early night. i want to go back and write in my notebook, curl up, feel safe, be warm, be held. ink. black scratch scratch scratch. little heart-sick masochist. little dreamy-eyed woman. little little me, far out in the dark of our forest highway. far away from old dreams and old hurts. feeling safe again these days... and quiet. very quiet. and a big need to move slow for a little while longer.

the weather man was not wrong...

it is coming down pretty hard out there. definitely not a good day for walking around without an umbrella. and converse are not rain shoes. i am thwarted. lucky for me, i am stocked up on coffee and hot chocolate and yarn. today is the perfect crochet day. warm home, sleeping dog, 2nd pot of coffee brewing, and a nice little nesting instinct toward making scarves and sweaters and beanies. not too bad a plan. besides, i've got to find a way to get things done in spite of winter. i will not lie... it's hard for me. i am not a winter animal. i hate the cold. cold is pain and i'm not a big fan of pain. in fact, the whole idea that hell is fire and brimstone seems like nonsense to me. i'm convinced it's one humongous iceberg.

hmmmm...

it's supposed to rain all day today... starting in about an hour. this isn't exactly welcome news. i'd planned on a trip to the city today to go art-looking and laughing with a friend of mine... on foot. and, after 4 1/2 years of living in the bay area, i still don't own an umbrella. my die-hard southern california training: i expect to wake to sunshine every single day.

maybe my buddy's got an umbrella...

maybe the weather man is wrong...

putting up plans...

my mind is spinning spinning spinning on new year's resolutions, coming up with all sorts of funky ideas to play with: making a quilt, a sweater, black and white striped curtains... fun stuff like that. but i've also been thinking about more businessy things too. it must be done. big on that particular list is refreshing my shop every quarter which spells quite a bit of work on my part but also, if i can manage it, a bigger commitment to my career in a very tangible way. and that's always a good thing. and i'll be starting on that now, making new drawings and things to offer up come january first. everything that's in the shop now will disappear come the first of the year and then every three months the shop itself will be re-curated with new work. keep it fresh, right? that's the name of the game, i've learned. and it doesn't seem easy but it'll keep me moving forward, determined, and thinking about art in an ever-expanding way.

linked to that, i've decided to go ahead and do the 'a drawing day' thing too. i've always been so impressed by the artists who take this particular project on and there's a ton of blogs out there dedicated to this exact practice. the results are always wonderful. it expands the definition of what a drawing is and how to go about making one. for my purposes, at least at the beginning, i'm going to keep a fairly traditional definition in place: marks on paper. and i'm not going to wait for the new year either. i'm gonna go ahead and get rolling on that now so that when the first of the year hits i'll be off and running at full steam. i may even create a second blog to document it... we'll see. having a list of images without any text is sort of a nice aesthetic and i've noticed i'm a person who responds well to having an OUTSIDE to answer to. it keeps me in line. :) however it goes, it'll go well and i know it'll be such a beneficial and wonderful addition to my daily living. dedication = goodness. i draw almost every day as it is but sometimes i don't finish the drawing and it sits hidden in a portfolio for weeks and weeks before i remember it's there. so that's the catch: to finish a drawing, big or small, every single day for an entire year. this is a pretty steep commitment but i'm up for it. drawing, as an act, has always helped the paintings. always. and it's fun too. i'll keep you posted. i've got 5 1/2 weeks to work out my plan of attack on this and i'm pretty sure i'll need every bit of it. and maybe even a new camera.

other than that, the new year will actually be more about maintaining my current commitments and deepening them. The Almighty Jog, my morning writing time, reading, eating healthier foods, drinking more water, doing the dishes on a more regular basis, practicing good listening skills, the laundry. ha! you know, the stuff that makes life better and a bit easier. and i think i'll save the "drink less coffee" resolution for later. i just love that hazelnut dreaminess way too much. i only got involved in the whole coffee-craze about three years ago so i've got some time before i start feeling the ill effects of a rampant and unrestricted coffee addiction. bare with me on that one. besides, it helps me write and paint and it just tastes too good to let go of. not yet, not yet, not yet. ;)

new...

my sweetie and i went to bed really early last night and caught up on a bit of the sleep we lost on the trip to southern california. and it did me wonders, for sure. i woke with a lightness today. some happy laughter in me. and sanity. and hope.

as my sweetie woke himself in the shower, i took my dog and notebook outside in to the cold and wrote wrote wrote and realized almost instantly the importance of goodness and humor in a person's day. how necessary they are... especially in the hard times. and i thought of my mother, two hours ahead of me, sitting out on her porch too, drinking coffee too, looking at her own beautiful forest and smiling.

there are so many things to be thankful for. she has roses. the breed that smell heavenly and cool and gentle. butterflies follow her around. it's true! they land on her nose and it creeps her out a little but it's a magical thing still. and i think of her, all bundled up in the iciness of this same morning, feeling happy and thankful and taking in all the small pleasures and know, for sure, that i must do the same.

a storm came through last night and the sky is white with low-laying fog and clouds now. i'll jog even if the rain decides to drop again. i'll run and breathe hard. i'll move. the leaves are turning yellow and brown. the end of the year, signaled in the vines. it is twisting toward its' end. and me. wondering where this year went. lost to confusion and desire, mostly. but if i look a bit closer, quite a bit of happy accomplishment as well. a calming down of old hurts. there is a newness in the stirrings. the holidays are welcome this time around. closeness and friendship and the ease of good, simple things.

good morning. :)

long slow breath out...

my optimism is here. it's alive but it's quiet. curled up. small. a child hiding under the bed. confusion feels like hatred sometimes. hatred for the world. its rhythm. its mode. that chaos spinning spinning spinning and make no bones about it- there will be no answer when you ask why. hardness. and last night i crawled in to bed an hour late and laid awake a long long time. my heart, sick. so sick in my heart, so sad, i felt like i might puke right there. i laid on my stomach and shoved a pillow under it. pressed my intestines inward and shut them up. shut them down. went to sleep finally. and got up at 5:40 this morning. made coffee. remembered i have a dentist appointment this morning. no jog til evening. i look for comfort in the small corners. i am finding some. a little. a little.

the news

what's the good word?
the good word dropped down.
the good surgeon.
confirmed.
my pretty mama-

reduced.



fear.
fear.
fear.
lift your foot.
go.
you are asking too much.


not her.


not yet.


bake you,
scald you,
shrink you in my kettle.
scorch and sear
til the unwanted thing dies.

i'll fucking murder you.




what's the good word?

confirmed.


the good doctor
the good green
deer in the yard
bee sting
a small mass burning
a hole in the middle of my mama.



not her.

uh oh...

i just checked my calender. there are only 6 weeks left in the year. and being that i am quite fond of rituals, markers of time, beginnings and endings, honoring the process of things, keeping traditions and making new ones, it is time to start thinking about resolutions. yep. yikes.

there are two large paintings that need to be finished and poems i'd like to get a bit deeper in during the next month and half. care-packages to make and little christmas gifts. after that, there will be new additions to my morning rituals to get used to. i'm happy that my morning writing practice is safe and solid. i'm happy that The Almighty Jog is working its' magic in my life and has become a prized part of my daily living as well. and, of course, this blog. i can't believe it's been just about an entire year since i made the resolution to be diligent about this thing. i've done pretty good, somehow managing to get a post up just about every day and letting the practice enrich my life. it has been such a blessing, this little space. this strange land of text and desire. it has brought such wonderful, talented, courageous, beautiful people to me. i am honored and so full of thankfulness. so full! and warm and ready to be brave... to go on being brave, to get more brave with my work, my writing, the paintings, my relationships. and i think that's what the majority of my resolutions this year will pertain to.

big on the list is getting a solo show together which means DOING THE WORK! it means having the bravery to let my practice wander around and do what it wants and just trust the effing thing. :) let it humble me, let it take the reigns and run. just work. let the work be what it wants to be. and my job is to be diligent in my respect for that. the process itself is a magical thing. my stamina seems to be back and my wide-open definition of what art is, what it can do, be, what it's good for seems to be back too. this is a very happy thing and i've missed it.

and the work has brought people to me that i feel so lucky to know. people i admire. people who are good and kind and hard-working. this blog even. it's become a strange little labor of love, an art project in it's own right. why not? and a string that connects me to you in such an artful, gentle, encouraging way. i can't tell you how wonderfully it has strengthened my faith... this little line of us that write and buzz and go on trying for a better way of living. it is so encouraging and gracious and just down right beautiful! and my poet goes on twisting up a net of words, building a nest for us to crawl in to, be safe, be shattered, be alive inside.

the trip down to southern california had a great big silver lining to it. for as grateful as i was about my life, it made me even more so. i saw so clearly all the things and people i love, the things i need to protect and nourish and never ever take for granted. i am so lucky and i want to honor that as best as i can.

following the work and not making demands on it is the best thing i can do. the work makes me a better, happier, healthier person. it makes me good. and that goodness can't help but spill out and slide around in the other areas of my life. my friendships and loves. the work is graceful and patient. i want to be graceful and patient too. the work can teach me this. i just have to listen. i just have to guard it. i just have to work.

and for the next 6 weeks that's all i plan on doing. i won't get lost in scrutinising the paintings or poems, i'll get lost in the process instead. i'll see where i go. for the next 6 weeks i won't make any assumptions about anything and just work work work. january 1st i'll take a look and see what i've done and see where i need to go. for the next 6 weeks i plan to just enjoy each day. that's it. simple, yes, but amazingly hard for a person like me. i've developed a nasty habit of being way too concerned with the future and not enough about the Here and Now. the Here and Now are things, i'm learning, that need to be honored as well. i'm going to have to come up with a few resolutions that will help me do that.

what about you? any new year's resolutions in the works?

good morning...

biting cold bright morning and me, bundled up, safe, warm, coffee in one hand, pen in the other, and scribble scribble scribble. my mornings. my wonderful wake up. i missed this while i was gone. a person's routine takes a back seat when in someone else's home... when there's a more pressing issue. but i'm glad to come back to it. thankful. endlessly. and my mama so proud of the life i'm building. all my sweet ways of being in my day. i woke up at my early hour and made coffee. i sat out on the front stoop, freezing, and wrote in my notebook until my hands were so cold they hurt. i came inside, turned on the heater, and kept writing. 12 pages this morning all in one burst. the gates opened and the ink slid out. there is a rhythm and a soft yearning in me. there is a quiet call working in my finger tips. there is a slow race in the corners, all the hidden places of a person, of me. there are cold beads of dew on the windows. my breath is white in the air. my dog curls up, hides from this chill, and me too- bundled up in fleece footie pajamas, thermal underneath, a beanie, and heavy, crocheted socks. winter arrived whilst we were away. and the yearning goes on. forward. undaunted. feeling its' way. waking up. a rhythm. a haunt. gratitude and mist and the white sun up in the sky.

ahhhhh...

we left at 8pm last night. i didn't want to wake up anywhere other than my own home. i didn't want to wake up to anything other than my beloved vineyard. i didn't want to fall asleep anywhere other than my own big, warm, ridiculously soft bed. and my sweetie seconded that emotion so off we went, in the dark dark dark, twisting up to the straight arrow of the 5 freeway. i dumped a whole bunch of horrible gas-station coffee in my stomach, thick from cooking on the burner all day, but it had the taste of salvation in it- the taste of leaving, forever, one's home-town. i don't think i'll ever go back. that was the last one. there won't be any more reasons. none. and that is a good and welcome cause for celebration and gratitude. the charm that once existed there is gone. bulldozed down just like the endless orange groves. it has been engulfed by the never ending strip mall that is southern california. brown, grey, trash, peeling paint, billboards for strip clubs, and not one single smiling face. we got stared at a lot. my mom said it was because of our smiling. no one smiles in southern california. i noticed that when i lived there before i'd ever even been anywhere else. no one smiles. no one but me and mine. and so the word of the day was "out". get out as fast as you can. and so off we went and rolled up to our front door at 4:30 this morning. 32 degrees but the warmest, most welcoming sight- our little cottage, the vineyard leaves, still and green and shining, and our enormous bed waiting. my mama got on a plane back to her mountain home this morning. back to her green, her deer, her roses, her man. she is smiling, always smiling. and me too. this is a great comfort. everything will be okay, whatever "everything" is.

sigh...

i haven't had more than 5 hours a sleep every night i've been down here. i am tired. i took a nap and am still tired. and now i'm drinking a cup of re-heated coffee. the coffee i made and promptly forgot about when i realized i should just go take a nap.

we are driving back tonight, all night. and i am happy to drive all night long to get back to our little, safe, warm, happy home. happy as a person can be. and tired.

today...

morning coffee in southern california. my brother's big ol' beautiful house. a couple more days of hugs and we'll be back on the road home. my sweetheart came too. and inga is in tow as well. my whole kookie little family. :) i feel much lighter and easier now that i've hugged my sweet mother. there aren't any answers but there's a lot of love and that's something to feel safe inside. sometimes love is better than knowledge. love is always warm. knowledge can be quite cold at times. and i prefer faith to worry.

please...

in a few hours, i'll be locking the door behind me and heading down to my home-town for a few days. very spur of the moment. there's some family stuff going on. my brother burned a line up the 5 freeway yesterday to come get me. he's sleeping, finally, here in my little living room a few feet away. it's been a few days since he's gotten any real, good sleep so i am being as quiet as i can. he needs it. today, my job is to be a good friend and sister to him.

he came inside and saw the big elsie portrait and fell in love. it made me happy. i think it's important to love her... even if you don't know her story. there's just something about the look on that little girls' face. a premonition. a history. a call. a call to action. and it is worrisome. i'm going to let him have the portrait. maybe she can work some magic in his home. guard the corners and arches. sing in a whisper.




anyway... i don't have much information about what's going on but the information i do have isn't good. i hope it's all been misconstrued. i hope there's been a misunderstanding, a mistake. i'll know when i see her. but if you're reading this, would you add my mama to the list of people you pray for? please.

goodness...

i stayed tight and warm and away from most forms of technology this weekend and will resume this plan in just a few minutes because it has treated me so well the past few days. we had another little house-hunting adventure yesterday. the first house we saw has already been snapped up by some lucky person out there but no matter- there is something out there for us too and patience is what we'll need to find it. in the meantime i've been crocheting and painting little heartfelt pictures of words. the ground outside in the good light is still wet from the storm so i can't take pictures just yet but i'll have things to share soon. and last night i had a kind of dream i've never had before, at least not that i can remember. it was drawn. yep. and it was drawn in the style of the illustrations that are found in my childhood shell silverstien books. i dreamt i was a little scribble of a girl and i had a red balloon. the balloon was the only bit of color in the whole dream. everything else was black and white and scratchy. i had black and white striped stockings. i wore a little scratchy white dress and pig-tails in my hair. i was a little girl. little. myself as a child and very quiet. and i tied my balloon to the big limb of a tree just like a tire swing. but every time i tried to swing on my balloon, it would rise up, helium filled. when i backed away from it, it would lower itself again. i wasn't sad in the dream and woke up after trying to ride the balloon for the second time. i came out in to the living room to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and old footage of peewee's playhouse way back when it was a theater production. god bless peewee herman. paul rubens is a genius. it was perfect and happy and my sweetheart is starting a steak dinner for us. sunday. sweet and beautiful and warm. meka-leka-hi meka-hiney-ho.

under and over...

stitch, stitch, stitch, and twist. grey day. drizzle, drizzle. gold gouache and red glitter. a cranky rottweiler. rekindling. re-thinking. learn, push, pray. slowly, slowly now. easy, easy. gold and red and grey. twist. twist. rottweiler yawn. a trigger in black, breathing slow, easy now, curled up around my toes. the warmth continues to roll. the gold. the bows. the bows are tied. ribbons 'round my wrists and eyes. grey day. safe and low.

drizzle drizzle drizzle...

a storm has welled up overhead but is managing to hold itself together. the clouds are low and dark, turning from pale grey to slate, heavy over my little corner, sprinkles on the glass. it should undo itself this afternoon, says the forecast, says the neighbors. little little inga and i are curled up safe inside. she is dreaming in the big red chair, kicking out her little deer-like legs, snoring delicately, and small soft covetous barks. the heater is on. we are warm. i have my hooks and yarn to twist. the oil will wait today. the camera won't find good light to click in. i am happy anyway and words and words and words. my lover snuggled me awake. he snuggled me in his sleep. i brought him coffee in the shower and we laughed at ourselves all morning. i am happy. and the words are coming back. words and words and words.

start...

the sun is up an entire hour earlier than i'm used to. i've scribbled in my notebook already, spilled an entire cup of coffee, read a bit, and talked with my dog about what it all means. The Jog awaits but there's still time yet for other things. my long mornings. my easy-does-it jump start. my pleasures bundled up in to one great big gift when the alarm goes off. it seems like it's been so long since i've felt this kind of happiness, this eagerness for the day and the work i might do. so long. i have missed it. tremendously. i have missed myself.

i want to draw awhile this morning before pounding through the vineyard. flowers or aprons. black and white. pencil scratching scratching scratching. my thin mouse. the line sniffing out the shape of a shadow, finding its' solid geometry. it feels like love when it happens, when it falls in to place, when it comes down just right. don't jump. don't run. lay down next to it and you'll see it's warm, you'll know it's good. there's nothing better. not one thing. clarity.

today...

i've been painting and cross-stitching all damn day and it's been WONDERFUL! ahahahahahahaha!

and now back to work.

this night...

the moon is enormous tonight. enormous and bright. a thin blue cast coming down. and still early enough to not be quite silent outside. not yet.
there is the traffic of people heading home. lights on the road. joggers and walkers and even a girl with a stroller. all lit up by the great big buttery moon. hurrying home and it makes me appreciate their movements, these strangers- knowing they have something to love. every single one. a reason to get going wherever they're going.

i painted today and i drew and crocheted and jogged and laughed. i ran the gamut and felt no rush rush rush. i felt no need to slap down labels, look for titles, justifications. i played. and now the big ol' moon that jumped up over the mountains and a person who hurried on home to me too.

looking for home...

after dinner last night, we all sat around and talked and laughed on the great big veranda at the neighbors house. they told us about funny and wacky camping trips they've been on, all the little sideways adventures and fun... and it dawned on me that my sweetie and i have been on one big sideways adventure since the day we got together. we've moved every year and a half for the passed four and a half years. and though a couple of those were to seize beautiful opportunities, it always makes for a strange transition and re-ordering of life. and come to think of it... my family moved a lot when i was a kid. i didn't grow up in one house. i didn't go to one high school.

anyway, when we moved here a year and a half ago, i couldn't seem to get up the energy to unpack. i think it took me a good 8 months to set our possessions in order. and of course, every time i opened a new box, i saw all sorts of objects that i no longer wanted, no longer needed, and some ghosts tried to get out too. and for the first year of our stay here, our little home has been in a constant state of re-arranging, removing, weeding through, getting rid of, rotating paintings, etc, etc, etc. and as i was telling the neighbors about this last night and watched their eyes change and heard how chaotic it sounds to most people- moving that often - i realized that maybe it took me so long to unpack the boxes because i feared i'd just have to repack them soon enough. my sweetheart and i have lived an a strange moment of upheaval and change for almost 5 years. some of it good, some of it not so good, but we've managed to be good to each other in spite of all that...

and so when i started feeling nervous about the house we looked at, nervous over what a big decision it is, i realized that i'm sort of scared to put down roots... i don't want to have to yank them back up. i don't want to have to relocate anymore. at least not for a few more years. i want to get down to enjoying my daily life and be free of the feeling of impending DOOM of having to move again. it's been hard on both of us and i'm ready to settle down for awhile. i'm ready to build and grow and change IN ONE SPOT. i want to start putting together a show and making plans and all sorts of wonderful things which is so hard to do in a state of flux. tremendously hard. and the longer i'm here in this area, the more i love it, the more i see the value of living in a place like this. i don't want to uproot again and go some place different just yet. i want to keep running through the vineyards with my dog, writing and drawing first thing in the morning, painting and playing. i don't want to lose these things. i want to keep them safe. i want them to grow and get bigger. i want them to weave in and out of my day and i want to feel secure enough to just be happy where i'm at. my sweetie feels the same way. we want a bit of ease and a bit of consistency and all those adult things that once upon a time sounded so boring.

mmmmmm...

i really do love Fall. the need to bundle up gets me thinking of deep, warm quilts and sweaters and scarves- all sorts of reasons for me to spend more and more time with my trusty crochet hook. and that's exactly what i've been doing all day today. my right hand is pretty well cramped and tired at this point but it's alright. i know how to smile through the creative pains. :) for sure.

it's our turn to make dinner for the neighbors this evening. it has become our sunday tradition. it's pretty cool seeing as how neither i nor my sweetheart have any family in the area other than each other. so we're making family traditions with our friends instead. it's a good thing. especially since the holidays are basically here. Halloween kick starts it all- the mad holiday rush, rush, rush.

yeah, i'm already thinking about thanksgiving and Christmas... things to make. i think i'd like to put the whole handmade movement to work for me this year. especially since everyone is having some NOT FUN economic woes, why not return to what the holidays are really supposed to be about? why not operate with faith from the notion that it really is the thought that counts? besides, i've got skillz. and i'm sure i can find a way to harness them for a sweet and warm holiday season this year. some of the best Christmases we ever had growing up were the ones when we hardly had anything; when money was super tight and we all had to get creative. those were the times when we really came together as a family. when we were warm and gentle with one another. when we felt thankful and safe and loved.

hello november!

yesterday for halloween we actually went and looked at a house. yep. no realtor, just us, trespassing. it's a red log cabin tucked up against a mountain by the russian river. we drove over a huge old steel bridge to get to it and vineyards all around. the house has a black pot-belly wood-burning stove. we could make fires if we lived there. we could chop wood and go shopping for axes if we lived there. and the roof was pitched and beautiful. all the wood on the interior had been painted white and there were all those cute and cozy little built-in things- nooks! i love nooks! and in the tiny rear courtyard there was a claw foot bathtub - outside! - which was plumbed in! this is actually the major selling point with my sweetie- an excuse for outdoor nudity. ha! and being butted up against the mountains like that means no one would be the wiser anyway and my virtue would stay intact. :) we looked and looked and re-looked in all the windows, going around and around and around the house, peering and poking and tip-toeing just like little kids, just like the trespassers we are. we left our nose prints on every single window. we were there so long that i had to go around to the side of the house and pee. and we daydreamed the whole time we were there and for the rest of the day too. when i woke up this morning, my sweetie was looking at it online. :) very cute and so much fun to think about. i couldn't fall asleep to save my life last night. i was having way too much fun fantasizing about interior design and all that stuff. nesting, nesting, nesting. ha! i called the realtor and set up an appointment to view the home later this coming week. as long as the roof and foundation are sound and there's been no crazy pest damage, we're gonna put a bid in on it. first time buyers. our first real home. if we get it. but even if we don't, it makes my heart well up with love just dreaming of it. love for my sweetie, love for my life, for the life we're chasing, for inga, for her bouncing prancing self, our little kookie family and the drive to keep it happy, keep it safe, and to honor it with everything i've got.

just thinking about it, dreaming this way, makes me zone in on the fact that i am truly in love with a great many things. a pretty good little halloween.