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.

Sep 2, 2010


last night i dreamt that someone who is no longer in my life (but someone i very much admired) stole a whole bunch of paintings and drawings from me. they stashed them in a glass building and when i learned of the theft, i went to the glass building and looked in through the dark windows. there were all sorts of beautiful, fashionable people inside, milling around looking at art, and i could see my work spread out on the floor in the rear of the building. i was waving my arms on the other side of the glass but no one looked at me. i could hear them talking and laughing. they were all smiling and drinking wine. and i stood on the outside, feeling entirely helpless, unable to collect my babies.

Johnny Depp showed up and he had hardly any hair. all patchy, like a symptom of disease or maltreatment. and he hugged me and said, "i know how bad this feels."

when i woke up, that horrible feeling of realizing you've been robbed was still on me- the horrible realization that you trusted the wrong person and that, as a result, a sick violation found you.

the dream was a very accurate mirror of reality. and it's no accident that my paintings and drawings were the sacrifice. the symbolism is an easy one to figure out. even the thing about Johnny Depp... which is odd and funny to me because i never dream about celebrities. ever. but i suppose he would know what that feels like: being used by people he had trusted to govern his career, having his image twisted in to something he couldn't stand, and his own naivety being shoved in his face.

and that was the dominant emotion in the dream: embarrassment. feeling so embarrassed of my naivety, my trusting nature that took me down a bad path, a path away from who i truly am... such a sick feeling. horribly sick.

i woke to find myself slowly growing angry about the whole thing. i went to my notebook and wrote fast and hard. now, with my coffee and the sun moving high, i feel thankful to not only have found my way out of that dream, but out of the reality it so perfectly symbolizes... that i am free and i have open doors all around me.


Hannah Stephenson said...

Fascinating stuff, Angela.

angela simione said...

thanks, hannah. i always feel at least a little dorky when i write about my dreams. but this one left a strong residue on me. thank you for listening to it. :)

Marta Sanchez said...

Deep in the maze here good to know there are doors out there.

angela simione said...

all around you, marta. they will stay put waiting for you. :)