i love being around people's mothers.
i love looking at pictures of people's mothers.
it's the closest i can come to looking at pictures of my own.
still, ma mere, the caught image of you sends me running.
i've learned how to keep a dry eye:
don't look at beautiful things
that pull the old heart strings
and which you'll never see again.
and so i bask in the smile of other people's mamas and feel absolutely real joy. i keep my own mother's image in my heart. especially when i look at the sky. i think of her when she was 19, walking cobblestone pathways in Germany, wearing her forest green velvet blazer. i can finally fit in to it. i wore it on thursday and thursday was the best day in the whole fucking world. :)
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.