while i'm young i wanna have FUN FUN FUN

and cry cry cry.  i want to think of your body, so far away, the way it lay shivering beneath my lips, my hot hands, my wishes for a better future.

but what of the future?  the new year is so close.  she presses against me like an invalid needing to be carried, needing to be seated on some cold throne; needing milk or meat or salt.  and i want to please her.  i do.  i want to be obedient and diligent.  i want to be thoughtful and poetic.  i want to be ABLE.  the new year breathes against my neck and i wish it were the hot breath of a lover.  that hunger.  that dire need.  that ache.  maybe it is.  while i listen to Lou Reed and drink the apple/vanilla/peppermint vodka my beautiful Annie gave me for Christmas, i think of the year about to be born.  what sheets lay waiting to be tangled beneath my body?  what fist might in catch my hair?  what page might catch what horribly hot poem, what anxiety ridden wish, what letter to my mother written far far far too late?  can i bend beneath your heat, sir?  can i bend beneath your lips?  because i have enough Truth within me, i am not seeking it from you.  i want only the external, the expression, the slip of sweat and spit.  you owe me nothing and i would love to bear witness to that fact.  let my body and face be a record of all that you DO NOT OWE ME.

(it is always a slightly scary moment when one wonders if a lover has yet googled their name.)

but what is it i am after, exactly?  what is it i long for?  every day i hunger after something.  i ache and ache and ache.  i type the words, i let my ink spill, i twist my wool and fashion myself a new poem, a new blanket, a new prayer.  and yet?  and yet?  and yet?  i am without.  i am hungry.  i need a new scene.  a Poetry i can curl below as if it were a man.  i need a Poetry i can be afraid of.  a Poetry with some weight. 

i need a Poetry with a fist.

we count down the days.  we pour the alcohol in to our cups.  we wish for the best.  do we think of our mothers?  we think of ourselves.  we bend to the wind of desire and wait to be kissed.  we hang up our clothes and pretend to be good.

do you think of me as much as i think of you?

who are you
watching me from way over there?
it'd be nice if you leaned in a little closer.  it'd be nice to sit together, your neck an inch away from my lips; your skin, a net for my breath.

but tonight we only have my pitiful words and the glow of my little electric play pen.  maybe that is more than enough.  maybe it's just as good as candle light.

the passed few days i've spent such lovely mornings with my diary.  page after page filled.  my handwriting becomes wild and loopy.  i write faster and faster.  i forget eloquence and choose vulgarities instead.  i write with pens stolen from hotel rooms and think of New York.  i wish it weren't winter.  i'd fly back in a minute if i had the right coat and the right boots.  i miss the bowery.  i want to walk along the streets there without a plan, notebook tucked in my bag, a map and a couple bucks for drinks.  i will be back in the spring.

but here in my little corner of california, i listen to depeche mode and crochet a sweater for my best friend's mother.  she is my mother too in very special, specific ways...  and also a friend.  i lucked out meeting Becca.  we met in a color theory class at CCA and have been friends ever since.  fuck student debt.  if one thing came out of going to art school, it was meeting her and i assure you her friendship is worth ever cent.  in fact, i got her at a bargain.  when my mom died, she cried on the phone with me.  i called her from tennessee and as i cried, she cried.  i will never forget that moment.  i will never forget that level of spiritual generosity.  what it is to cry with another human being...  it's something beyond words.  there is no way to describe it.  thinking of it even now makes my eyes sting with tears.  there is no way to thank someone for it.  the best i can do is say that Becca endured the torture of that moment with me.  she breathed it when i breathed it.  she didn't back away.  the dark didn't send her running.  she stood with me there in that moment and didn't flinch.  i recounted my last moments with my mother to her and she bore it with me.  when i returned home after the funeral, she sent me my very first tube of red lipstick.  NARS red lizard.  and just like that she changed my life.      

("art witch" indeed, my friend.  ;)  i miss the hell out of you. if anyone speaks the same language as me, it's you.)

she is such a treasure.  i love her endlessly.

so let me spin another song and let me pour another Greyhound.  i have the day off tomorrow.  like a good girl, i went on a 2 mile run today.  i'll do it again tomorrow too.  i'm thinking about the New Year and making resolutions.  you know i'm too impatient to actually wait until the 1st to get going on my plans but, still, i love the ritual.  i love the marker of time.  a brand new year finds us again and i am thankful for it.  so thankful and so hopeful.  for the first time in years i feel like my life actually fits me, that i am not living a lie.  it is a fantastic feeling to feel authentic.  it is a good, deep warmth.

and here in my white bed, i call up my favorite memories...

oh, i would snuggle up against you if you were here...




but first i'd rub your feet and leave my lipstick on your cheek.   and just like last time, we'd look each other in the eye and be sure not to regret a thing.

X

i begin to think at times that i might be one of the worst people on the planet. i know this isn't true. one of those strange fears left over from childhood. the bad habit of self-hate. there are plenty of people out there who are way worse than i could ever be but, still, i think it. i feel it. some sort of cold nausea of the heart. the pounding of such a sad organ. round and round we go, all this aching blood looking for an outlet, an outcry, some sort of solace from what the world is and what life has been.

i am such a fucking downer here. tis the season in so many ways. this white rectangle is my repository for all the bad little things i hide in real life. it is the precious receptacle of everything dirty and mean and whiny. i can be totally unattractive and completely loathsome here and the only punishment i can count on is that no one will read these words which, in this age, is a big blessing. who knows what the hell i'm trying to say anyway. this has become a death blog and i really don't know what that means or entails. i finished reading Close to the Knives and it was all so painful and beautiful and i thought that if i can at least outfit my friends in black sweaters and black banners and leave them with some interesting things to read before i die i will have done alright.

he writes: "i want to be untouchable and without need."

i writhe beneath such a sentence. i know exactly what he means and it makes my heart hurt. i want to feel such a deep, inconsolable void that pain doubles over itself like a somersault and spits out something beautiful and necessary. something beyond all this whining, all this conjecture, and hungry hands searching in the dark blankets for some amount of security.

i can't name the things i wrestle with. nouns have no power over them. still, i lean in toward the future with hopeful eyes like a child. such a big hope that i am blistered by it, radiant and expectant and willing to go on trying and working and struggling.

i sat down with my tea, back in bed with my notebook, in the early morning. black outside. steam and honey in my cup. i scribbled the date - Dec. 15th - and my pen moved no further as i realized there are only 2 weeks left in this month: only 2 weeks left in this year. and i have only just taken a breath. i have only just had a short rest. i look up and we are on to the next thing. i am not complaining. i have finally learned how Good it is to be busy.

life is changing. it has too.

i am changing right along with it.

even this blog is changing. and i guess that makes perfect sense: as i change so do my expressions. i am in an in-between, something of a transition or transformation. and i feel encouraged by this. bare with me while this mirror wobbles and attempts to show my reflection again.

and in the meantime, i twist up new roses and lay the oil down, speeding toward the new year with as much strength as i can muster. we're almost there. finish strong.

elated

the opening friday night was wonderful. and insane! it was so packed with people the gallery got hot! :D and that's 3000 square feet of tremendously high ceiling space we're talking about! it was amazing! the art-going public in san francisco rarely disappoints. they come out in droves and love to laugh and smile and join in the fashion parade too. it's impossible for a people-watcher to be bored here. if you're bored in san francisco you might have sadly been born without a capacity for joy.

i've been lost in my elation even since. :)

and i finally got to meet the sweet and talented and absolutely adorable artist Amanda Smith. if you don't know her work you are missing out! it is fantastic! gorgeous! and with a splash of darger on it that is unexpected and beautiful and just so intriguing! it was so wonderful getting to speak with her and we totally had one of those cute and awesome moments when you meet an artist who's work you love and you both say "I LOVE YOUR WORK!" at the exact say time! hahaha! :D i am so happy to have work on the same wall as her.

and this morning, dark and early, i took the first steps toward a few new year's resolutions and enrolled in spring classes. german and ceramics. i'm probably one of the extreme few art-nerds who, in high school, did not take 2 years of ceramics. i think i had one semester and then focused on drawing and poetry as my electives. anyway, i've been wanting to learn how to make crazy plates to hang on the walls for a couple years now so i figured why not now? especially after getting up close and personal with Amanda's work and seeing how beautiful ceramic art truly is. and the same goes for learning german. so many of my favorite artists and writers are from germany and austria. i'd love to be able to read the work of elfriede jelinik and herta muller in the original. though the translations are absolutely beautiful, it is apparent that some soul has been lost. and so here we go! i'm a bit nervous but also very excited! it's been a goal of mine for a very long time.

the month that stands between now and my first day of class is going to fly by in a crazy, wonderful blur of work and art. in the middle of the reception, Freya and i were already working out a plan for the january exhibition. :)

i am stunned by all that has happened and is happening.

glowing and motivated

things are busy and wonderful and i'm just rolling along with it, feeling so satisfied and happy and encouraged. more than i've felt in a long time. i really can't stress enough how absolutely wonderful it feels to work with people who trust the ins and outs of my practice, who want me to do what feels right and just be myself. it's amazing and i am absolutely grateful for this experience. and we've been reviewed twice more! DANG! and DOUBLE DANG! ha! Artbusiness.com covered it the other day. scroll down til you find Slingshot. and Content at Fecal Face too! beautiful photographs! and tons of them! and i'm in one of them! see if you can spot me. i'm wearing a black shirt that says THE END in big white letters but the END is blocked by someones arm so it just says THE. :) but YAY!!!!! i'm blown away the opening got so much attention! it's so exciting! and we're already working working working on the december show which could prove to be our last exhibition in the space (we're only guaranteed our spot until january).

i'll be sitting the gallery again today. please do come down and say hi. 890 valencia @ 20th. i'll be there from noon - 5pm. maybe even a bit later today. people seemed to be really streaming in around 4:30 last week so i might keep the space open a bit later today if it ends up being the same.

in other news, i've finished the admissions paperwork for my local JC so that i can learn a new language in the new year. :) it's been on my TO-DO list for a very long time and, as i thought about new year's resolutions, i decided it was time to take a run at it. i can't enroll until the middle of next month but the first step has been taken and i am looking forward to wandering around on a college campus again. i love college. i always have. i highly recommend it. :) and also, if i take a second class (which i definitely will. probably something like screen printing or ceramics. fun classes!), it defers my student loan which is awesome. two birds, one stone. survival at its finest. :)

busy busy busy

i am neck deep in applications this week. both in terms of my epic job hunt and a few artist residencies i've been drooling over. with the new year just around the corner, my fire is stoked high to get a few things wrapped up and set in motion. burn, baby, burn!!!! and then i can move on to the lovely task of choosing a whole new batch of new year's resolutions. :) it's a tradition i definitely enjoy taking part in but, now that i've quit smoking (can you believe it's already been 4 weeks!), i'm having trouble coming up with them. ha! what about you? have you started thinking about the new year yet or are you dreading it, pushing back the thought of the holidays as far as you can? maybe i'm pushing back the thought of the holidays by leaping right over them and going straight to january?

2...

this is my 2009 self-portrait.

in chronological order from first to last, the notebooks...

3...

so close. so close. and i filled the very last page in my notebook this morning. i wanted it to last me all the way to the end of december but i got on a hot streak and fill a minimum of 6 pages every morning. i'll just shove some loose paper in the back and keep on writing, writing, writing all the way until the ritual ends.

today i was thinking about the difference between needs and desires... and how some desires are so strong, so based in personal values and ethics that even if they aren't needs in the survival sense of the word, they are still very real necessities. i'm trying to make distinctions between what i find to be necessary to my life and practice, and what i've been told or taught to expect of these things. it is a squirrely, winding thing. but good and worthwhile. i'm making lists. i'm reading the work of people i admire. i'm trying to learn from them, their work, their bravery. i'm feeling kind and easy and sweet. and very very lucky.

4...

strange dreams all last night. i can't remember any of them. it is a frozen morning. smoke then steam. fog in the forest. white grey sky. moss on the tress pointing North.

it is monday.
my nose runs.
it looks like rain.

yesterday i managed to wash a few dishes. i drew The Anonymous Girls on a book page. splattered their covered faces with ink. sighed. the house is a wreck. but it's not nearly as dreary as it sounds. it's warm in here. and safe too. i'll do my best today to feign health in small ways at least. feign life. it is monday already. and the sky gone white. stillness. and the counting, counting, counting...

i am big on the ritual this time of year:

i tell myself- it is time to look in the mirror. time to wash the smoke out of your hair. get the monster out. don't let it follow you in to the next year, little one. do the work.

i remember how excited i was this day a year ago. i absolutely believed that the changing of the calendar was a magical thing. that the new year would sweep through, a tremendous broom, and clear out all the old ghosts. take the webs out of my doors and i'd wake new year's day to find everything clean and bright and in it's right place. an eye-blink. corrected. proper. pure. i honestly did believe that.

and here we are again. the same day a year later. on the hinge on the new. but this time around i've built my own broom. i'm doing the cleaning myself. my own hands, my own pen and page, my canvasses waiting on the wall. sweeping, sweeping. slowly, slowly. but it is a sure thing. and i am still hopeful for some magic. i have new eyes this time. eyes that are able to see such things. and i know, for sure, what tools to use to clean my own slate.

be gentle with yourself.

i love you.

i'm not the only one.

5...

the countdown begins...

and me, still sick and heavy with the sadness sickness brings... or is it the holidays? this time of year seems to have an adverse effect on most people. it breaks the stride of happiness and productivity and thankfulness, contrary to what the holidays are supposed to mean. still sniffly and stuffy and aggravated but somehow excited to see the new year arrive. i'm glad to see 2009 shove off and a new opening, a portal, spread wide-open in front of me. there are too many hopes for me to list. my head is too deep in the fog of congestion. the fog is not burning off. but the hopes are here, alive and thumping despite lethargy and distraction. hope always, shining bright as a child, shining like a new tooth, a golden door knob, an open, lucky window, a promise ring, a charm bracelet, a poem. shining shining.

the shining is what needs to be clung to.

this year so many things changed. it was all flux and chaos and desire. it was lost to despair sometimes. it was swimming in bliss sometimes. it was a bundle of love and hate and hurt and pleasure. it was angry and mean. it was gentle and soft. time fell out of step. the fog layed down. the fog refused to burn off. and then suddenly... the brightness. shining hope and unexpected kindness and inexplicable resilience. and there are still 5 days to go.

most days, i am thankful for all of it. even the hard stuff. even the stuff that hurt so bad and broke my heart. even the things that made me want to scrap the whole shibang and start all over again. all of it. because through the hard stuff came such beauty, polished and gleaming and unexpected. in that barren space, words sprung up and twisted themselves around in to odd little poems and i learned that the rules no longer matter. and it's a nice place to be... to have gotten far along enough to know that the rules no longer apply. and that is what 2009 has been. the shattering of ALL RULE.

ugg...

christmas day my sweetie and i both woke up sick. the kind of sick that gets worse as you go forward through the day. and it's pretty much the same way today. we got out and did the grocery shopping. we needed orange juice and NyQuil. and i don't know where the last two days went... somewhere lost in the fog of mental congestion that seems to come along for the ride when one gets the flu... i suppose there was a holiday somewhere in there. ha! all this to say, i am currently shirking all responsibilities to lay around in footie pajamas and whine and eat carrot cake instead of fruit and i really want to watch Donnie Darko tonight and be lazy in front of the television and not do a damn thing at all other than that. maybe i'll make popcorn. greasy butter-loaded heart-clogging popcorn.

counting today, there are only 6 days left in the year. geez. too fast, kids. way too fast.

yum

potatoes boiling and brussel sprouts too and steaks in the broiler. garlic and pepper and butter across every inch of every thing. our home smells good. this week is all about cooking. comfort foods. none of that fancy stuff, just good ol' home-cooked deliciousness. and i don't mind one bit. i'm looking forward to my sweetie's christmas vacation- lazy days under quilts and watching movies, hiding and huddling together from the winter outside the windows. lazy days spent with Angela Carter- i just started The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman and am already hooked. lolling around in warmth and words and letting this strange, hard year wind itself down. i've had enough and am content now to wait it out. except when it comes to the paintings. 4 huge oils going now and it is quite the juggling act but happy and fun. i'm excited for where the work will go this coming year, where it will take me. i'm excited for so many things and looking forward to january 1st.