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 3, 2011

now

i have learned too early maybe how short life is. i am afraid of the brevity. i want to be an old woman in my bed. i do not want to be cut short. i am afraid of being cut short. i want the death (and life) of Louise Bourgeois- 98 years old, warm in my bed after a day of work in the studio, spitting images and loves at the world all the way up to the end. i want to work with that fire. i want to be a slave for decades to it.

everything is memento mori to me now. i am making myself a sweater with a skull on it. i never really cared for skulls as an image much before but now i am strangely attracted to them. i think of vanitas, our eye-blink existence, and want to claim every single shred of joy and sweetness i can. especially those bits found inside the swivel of sorrow. they are the most nourishing, the most poignant and necessary.



my sweater doesn't look like this but maybe i will attempt to make something along these lines as well. i love it.

come see me at slingshot today if you're around and we'll talk about art. or we can crochet together. i'll be sitting in the huge window at 890 valencia in san francisco.

8 comments:

Hannah Stephenson said...

Joy in spite of/alongside the brevity of life is beautiful. I know you'll make something good with this.

angela simione said...

i hope so, hannah. :)

thank you for continuing to read here, my friend.

Jane Lancaster said...

life and death...my sister liked to sit in cafes and knit..she died 2 years ago..i used to think like you but now i don't want to get that old anymore ..without her..

angela simione said...

jane-

(((BIG HUG)))

my mom was 7 days away from her 56th birthday. i think that'll be a rough birthday for me when i get ther... surpassing her... feeling how young she felt.

i'm so sorry for the loss you live with. i'm glad you came my way and are doing what you're doing.

Jane Lancaster said...

Angela how kind of you to leave this comment. Bless you. I read about you mum on your blog..so young..so sad..this death thing is a whole new ball game...big hug back...

Andrew said...

The skull. I have one, it's the same and different. Been thinking the same way as you. Ugh, what an unmovable weight it is. Just so thick and heavy. Everytime i feel something good it's stolen away by the thought mom doesnt get to feel anything good anymore..........

and then just as quickly the captcha to post this comment is "slarl" that makes me laugh!

angela simione said...

andy! yay!!!! :D

hey everybody, that's my bog brother!

yes... what you've written here is beautiful and i feel the same way. the other day when i was driving home i thought of how she always would walk up and lay her hand on the side of my face and how that's not ever going to happen again. i lost my shit and started crying so hard i had to pull over. it makes me tear up right now just to even write that.


and then, just like you say, the flip switches and something hilarious will happen and all i want to do is be strong enough and good enough to live as full as possible, be in The Present, and be thankful for every wild breeze that finds me.

:)

(i bought some more Constant Comment today and thought of your joke about nagging.)

i love you.

angela simione said...

jane, thank you! :)