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.

Jun 18, 2011

the way it is

ever read your own work and think "what a fucking psychopath"? ha! yeah... one of those days. or weeks. still, it feels good to be writing. moving the pen and hitting the keys. i was up so late last night bouncing between Word Documents, adding and subtracting sentences, sometimes spilling entire paragraphs, and i think 2 pieces might actually be the same piece... might need to be combined. i think of anais nin writing the hard stuff first, the passages that were bound to take the most out of her, and then sewing them together later. so much of writing seem to be about building bridges, about making patchworks. i've been cutting up pages and pages of printed prose lately and taping them back together in different arrangements. it's been good to work that way.

i found louise bourgeios' Destruction of the Father at the CCA library the other day and sat down in one of the big leather chairs and read for a few hours.

on page 49:

...You can stand anything if you write it down. You must do it to get hold of yourself.


No comments: