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.

Dec 25, 2012

fuck em all

fuck you and your dashes.  these explanations/expectations.  my brother came over and we twisted the cap off two bottles of vodka.  meanwhile, i receive text messages from distant family members about what it is to be a Christian.  as if i even know.   but Christmas is definitely not a marker of faith.  i much prefer the texts of my sweet stranger.  i much prefer the taste of sweat and the memory of it.  give me an ecstatic moment!  i much prefer the memory of stubble and skin.  fuck the expectations, give me a magical reality where women and men speak thoughtfully, poetically, and without fear.  give me that solitary moment when we, in full view of God and with all the lights on, whisper to each other, spill every secret, and confess that the ache we feel can only find relief in the hot recesses of the Other's salty skin.  take whatever you want from me.  take whatever you need.  i will never stay your hand.  i might only raise your palm to my lips and kiss kiss kiss. 


Radish King said...

Love you. From the weirdlands.

angela simione said...

love right back to you, sweet woman. :)