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.

Nov 5, 2012

oh, fucking hell...

i see stars... 

i've been drinking...

what else is new?

my pleasure becomes my primary concern and today my primary pleasures were writing in my diary and catching up on sleep.  i bought this tingly eucalyptus body wash that sends my skin into shivery convulsions and i took my time rub-a-dub-dubbing as a result.  it was nice.  now, at 11pm i begin to wonder the fuck i did with my day.  in a week i fly to new york and there are so many things to take care of between now and then.  it is  seriously long list and a jam packed schedule that i must contend with.  most of which is fun as fuck but, by nature, i am a dreamy and somewhat lazy human being who prefers to spend her time star-gazing and looking out the window day-dreaming with her chin resting solemnly on her palm. 

my mind turns to romance:
 
weren't we just talking about God?  weren't we just talking about how i wish i could believe unmistakably in Him?  weren't we just talking about warmth and sex and saliva and the diseases that live behind our knee caps? 

fuck it all. 

i'm in love with life and i have no answers.  my morality shrunk to the pathetic remains of a cat's maggot-ridden carcass by the side of the road in the wake of my mother's death.  mama, what am i to believe in now?  your soul doesn't just escape me, it escapes us all.  where did you go?  i do not feel you and i have not felt that you ascended to anything, anywhere. 

i see you in my dreams and sometimes they feel so fucking real...  what am i to do?  what am i to believe?  it only means that i miss you horribly and i wish i could talk to you.  i wish i could pick your brain.  who else can i be honest with and still be loved by? 

everyone else has too many superstitions and closed morals in the way.  all these other people hate me for having feelings and for having caught the short end of the stick.  i'm still standing, mama, but they don't know what harm they do when they espouse their beliefs...  such closeted, mean beliefs that leave no room for frailty and the normal bumps and bruises that come along simply from living.  seriously, mama, who are they to judge?  they have no idea what i've been subjected to.  they have no idea who you were.  they have no idea what i've endured.  and i never told you, mama, because i didn't want to hurt you and, what's more, i didn't want to complicate your religion.  we've all been taught such stupid shit.

i listened to the Lost Highway soundtrack over and over again today.  i painted and i crocheted.   i tortured myself with the ideas of Right and Wrong.  i have no clue what is best or what is good or what i owe other human beings.  i try my best not to hurt others but i know that i will inevitably fail.

we all will.

we should not make the stickiness of living a crime.

4 comments:

yolanda said...

i´m in love with life!
and you´re not alone.
and music saves me because it breaks me. (i´m ALIVE)

everything...
:)

angela simione said...

<3

Jane Lancaster said...

so beautiful Angela.. and so true..

angela simione said...

jane! so good to see you! thank you so much, sweet lady! :)