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.

Feb 18, 2011

anger

yesterday in the rain, a run-in with a stranger. an unhinged woman far older than i decided to verbally threaten me. i raised my voice in turn. she hustled off, lost in whatever fanaticism her mind resides in. i should've just shined her on and said "ookey dokey", made her feel like an asshole. or worse, stupid. but the fact a stranger decided it was okay to threaten me caused this amazing surge of violent anger to course through me instantly. instantly. i had been writing about my mom's death in my notebook when this poor soul decided to interrupt my poetics with her utter bullshit. and the fact that nothing came of it is completely beside the point. so i raised my voice at a stranger? and a jerky one at that. big deal. it's the surge of anger that has caught me off guard. i have never felt this particular breed of anger before. i actually envisioned myself grabbing this woman by her hair, yanking her head back, and screaming in her face I DON'T CARE ABOUT A FUCKING THING, YOU DUMB CUNT! MY MOTHER'S FUCKING DEAD! WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE! which is not exactly the case but very close to it... i care about relatively little these days. i have been uncommonly stoic the passed few weeks ever since my mom made an appearance in one of my dreams. i ran to her and held her bony frame to me. i held on to her so tightly and she said "Angela, it's okay. I'm still here." and this huge fearful anger rose up inside of me. i didn't say anything but thought "they told me you were dead. they told me you were dead and i believed them. i am so mind-fucked, mama." and then the horror of waking and my first thought being, "no, mama, you aren't still here." ever since that dream i have been in a state of cold anger but not even a ripple of it has shown itself on the surface of my life until now. i have managed to keep it entirely still.

i care about art, words, friendship... nail polish and lipstick and that's really it. i don't care about success, failure, the rules, whatever. have it. take it. i don't give a shit. the state of shock that has insulated me up until now, allowing me to proceed gracefully through the day, giving no hint to the painful actuality of my inner world is melting away. a new form begins to show below this waxy shell. a new girl. i stay up late to listen to music and paint my fingernails silver. i stay up late scribbling and scribbling and scribbling and then wake up early to do it all over again. i don't want to waste any time. i go to class. i pay close attention. i work hard. it has never been so important to me to use every second to its full potential. i can't even tell you how i'm doing. i don't know. i'm not good. i'm not bad. i am in the middle of a race.

13 comments:

Radish King said...

You are so remarkable. Your art and your words are all over my house a testament to that very idea. Carry on little one. I would have bitch-slapped her for you had I been there.
love,
Rebecca

Radish King said...

ps. Left you a phone message.
xo

Hannah Stephenson said...

Using your time, that is always a good thing.

It takes time to process pain and grief (as I'm sure you know). It won't always feel like this.

Marta Sanchez said...

Love you Angela, let the feelings come. I am glad they are coming out scary as it may be.

Jane Lancaster said...

this sounds very familiar Angela.. it fucking hurts that's all there is to it. Thinking of you...

my friend kicks boxes!

angela simione said...

rebecca- thank you. sweet friend. for the what-might-have-been bitch slap and the wonderful phone call the other day. i love laughing with you.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

angela simione said...

hannah, thank you. i sure hope not. some days i feel pretty good. solid and thankful and full of laughter. and then the wave crashes and the whole world changes.

angela simione said...

marta, it totally scared me that i fely such a urge for violence. totally not like me at all and i even felt embarrassed writing about it here but i figured that someone else out there might be feeling the same way... that makes it worth the risk of embarassment, for sure. thank you for for your deep acceptance and compassion.

angela simione said...

jane, thank you! i'm glad to know this isn't irregular. it surprised the hell out of me! but you are exactly right: it fucking hurts. somedays i just can't contain it. it can't help but come out.

Heather Jerdee said...

Listening to what your writing and feeling on the net and she could have an army of Angela friends after her (hee-hee)!!! <3 to you Angela

angela simione said...

hahahahaha!!!!! thanks heather! YAY for angry mobs!

molly said...

oh shit.
this is what i'm afraid of.
i have to go before my own mother.
i'm sure of it now.

i'm so sorry you lost your mom.

angela simione said...

molly, thank you. it's such a weird, fuck-ed up thing. i still don't believe it half the time. i think of it and say "that's ridiculous! no way! there is no way that shit just happened."

but WELCOME! it's good to meet you. i spent a lot of time on your blogs this morning. fantastic! :)