these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.

thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.

my artist website is here.

Mar 6, 2010

and so it goes...

by late afternoon yesterday, i found myself in a fragile mood. a fragile place. and i grabbed the keys to go lose myself in the throng for a little while. i lost myself looking at clothes at macy's for awhile (didn't buy any but tried a whole bunch of stuff on) and then went and looked at curtains and bedroom stuff at Target. Target traps me and i ended up staying there almost until closing time. i left with a curtain rod and 2 pairs of funky socks. funky socks have always made me happy. especially striped ones. and always knee highs. but on the drive home, i found myself getting tearful and feeling like a scared child. these things creep up unexpectedly sometimes... but they are inevitable. for all of us.

it's just the weight of the past, i suppose.

the weight of the past.

there will always be the big WHY. always the mourning for things that never were or things that left too soon or things that should have never been.

the death of an ideal.

the death of an ideal is a grievous thing. the grief is massive and can span years.

but we (i) can create new dreams to take their places. better dreams, better hopes. most of the time, i think i have an idea of how to set about accomplishing that. some days... not so much. yesterday ended up being that kind of day. but this morning i woke feeling so much better. not scared, not so unsure, not so tangled. i am drinking good coffee and i put up the new curtain rod and curtains. a deep plum. maybe eggplant. a deep, dark, dusty color that is warm and gorgeous.

it's nice to know that things can be deep and dark and be warm and gorgeous as well.


Maggie May said...

this was the perfect thing for me to read this afternoon. i am this way right now. so thank you for sharing.

angela simione said...


you are very welcome, sweet girl. warm and gorgeous as you are. ;)

Kate Zambreno said...

oh sometimes i am like that. i need to go to a department store, or target, walk around. why is this so soothing, walking around, looking at objects we can buy, that can solve problems so easily? the order and lighting? i think for me this is something i so often did with my mother. so there is something about it in my childhood.

Marta Sanchez said...

My past keeps coming up in dreams, but now I don't cry at missing people who have passed. Exactly as you wrote a deep and dark yet warm and gorgeous.

And do you have any knee highs with toes?

angela simione said...

kate, i did this with my mother too. and when we were destitute sometimes we'd drive through the wealthy neighborhoods and dream together about living in those big beautiful houses and what color curtains we'd put up...

in a crowded store, especially one like target, i know i can find distraction. i can be completely ignored too. i can be just like everyone else. i don't really think about it like that in the moment though. and i still dream while i walk up and down the aisles. i still think of the dream home.

angela simione said...

marta, i'm glad your dreams don't make you cry. the past can be such a heavy thing. and memory too.

i had one pair with toes that i got for christmas one year and it took me forever to get used to wearing them! it felt so weird! but on these cold nights i wish i still had them. when i lived in southern california, i'd find myself sweating after wearing those suckers for 15 minutes.

Elisabeth said...

It is a puzzle when emotions sneak up on us at times when we least expect them. The other day I drove down through Swan Street in Richmond here in Melbourne and noticed yet again the advertisements from the 'Make a Wish Foundation'.

This charity arranges for children struck down by dreadful situations usually of a medical variety to get together with others to grant their greatest wish.

The sight of a small boy aged around eight years and dressed in over sized army fatigues beside a large tank with the words 'I want to see the army' sent me into a pale wash of tears.

I could not fathom it then and even now it's hard to analyse.

I won't go on longer now save to say, we are more sensitive than we sometimes credit. Thanks, Angela.

angela simione said...


oh, it's that the truth! way more sensitive than we realize most of the time. and the pressure (from inside as well as out) to be strong, to handle everything that comes our way with stunning grace and fairness... it just piles up, i guess.

and memories can be such a forceful thing. they can send you right back to that time and place, and there you are, feeling the pain and confusion and regret all over again as if not one day has passed between then and now.