i went to my little storage unit earlier today for the first time in 10 months. so many of the objects seemed like they didn't belong to me. or couldn't. but they did. they do. and i've been paying rent for them to be kept safely somewhere for the passed year.
it is a strange time-capsule. an odd window in to a different era, a different heart. after i turned my key in the padlock and swung the big, white door open i felt as if i was looking at someone else's belongings. in so many ways, i was. i am. i took one small carload of boxes and artwork back to my house. as i unpacked, i came across such a funny and weird assortment of shit from my past. numerous lives! it made me laugh joyfully to pull a two dollar bill (with red and black ink print) from the lowest drawer of my black Japanese jewelery box. i dumped the contents of the entire thing on to the floor, cleaned the drawers and hinges of a year's worth of dust, then rooted through the tarnished pieces.
i made a massive pile of trinkets i'm definitely not interested in wearing anymore, i'll say that much! ha! i looked at the glittering heap on the floor in front of me and felt next to no attachment to any of it. i'll keep the pieces of jewelery my mother gave me even though it's of a style i no longer wear. there is the necklace she gave me for my 16th birthday. here is the necklace she gave me when i graduated from High School. and here, the necklace she gave me when i graduated from college. when she died, i took a few of her necklaces. not because i wanted to wear them, i just wanted them near. like a Bible. amulets. talismans. and who knows? maybe the future will give me occasion to wear these necklaces again.
but i digress.
i didn't remember how much stuff i'd managed to cram inside such a tiny unit. i rented the smallest one available! my crap is really shoe-horned in, let me tell you. it's going to take a few more trips to get this all sorted out. most of which will be left on Oakland street corners or given to the Goodwill. i don't want it. i don't identify with it. i have no feeling for most of what i've saved. i want to be rid of it and have a clear, wide expanse in front of me upon which i may build a new life, a new future, a better, more honest Self. i don't want the anchors of The Past pulling at the corners of my eyes, the corners of my heart. i don't need the barbs and burrs. i don't need or want the attachments. it's truly just stuff. and mostly annoyances.
but my books. god, my books!!! i've missed them so much! i brought two boxes home with me today. i found the boxes that held my kiki smith and louise bourgeouis monographs and also my collection of jean genet's writings. i've been wanting to re-read The Theif's Journal since i embarked upon an idependant life a year ago. i need to have it around me, again, like a Bible. i need the reminder of his fearlessness, the illustrations of his philosophic bravery and poetic swagger.
right now, i am uploading my cd collection in to my laptop. soon, i'll be able to relish in the sounds of my brilliant music collection as i stomp back and forth across Oakland and San Francisco. i've been without Fugazi and Tori Amos and En Vouge and TOOL for a year! a fucking year! it's so good to have my music collection here in front of me. it is an ecstasy, truly.
the future grins from its dark corner. change is afoot. there is no reason to think his grin is sinister. he is merely chuckling at the surprises he knows are in store for us and of which we will be amazed and glad - these same things which we (i too) are afraid of now. the Unknown is a scary motherfucking thing, but i feel the fear and barrel forward anyway. like my friend said "get busy living or get busy dying".
it's easier now that i have music to do it to. ;)
let's live, kid.
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.
my artist website is here.