upon deciding to move to new york...

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...and creating a life that feels right for me.




the tickets are bought.  New York, here i come.  :)

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going through photos...

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...i think it's time to make a zine.

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need

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sick day

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sometimes the silence is mandatory...

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...and warm.


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DON'T CRY

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an instinct toward joy

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it's near impossible to think back to just a little over 2 years ago, spend a moment with those memories, and relate to them.  that wasn't me.  THAT girl is not THIS girl.  that life is not mine.  i wake and stretch wide in my own bed.  my hand reaches down down down and i give myself cause to smile.  a roof i pay for above me and a blanket i made with my own hands. and for however humble my accommodations may be, they are mine all mine and i love every inch.  my satisfaction is deep and abiding.  i begin to take pictures of the small moments...  the silly bear planter that i use to hold my pencils and crochet hooks, the books piled in to a boarded up window ledge, Seth sitting on the kitchen counter...

i was once so miserable that the very idea of making a visual record of my life - a life i was so utterly at odds with - was a humiliating, horrible thought.  i didn't take pictures for years.  i had absolutely no urge.  no instinct to nest.  no instinct toward joy.  i made lots of pretty good art and i will not say that era is without value...  but i'll never be grateful.  i will never say Thank You for those days.  i'll feel thankful, rather, that i somehow managed to acquire the wherewithal to find a way out.

slowly, the camera has found its way back into my life.  i want to know myself and my life through different lenses and films, different croppings and configurations.  i take pictures of my mouth, my smile.  i take pictures of my naked form in the mirror.  i take pictures of my friends.  i take pictures of the things my neighbors leave on the curb and the defunct churches down the street.  i take pictures of my diary.  i take pictures of the notes i leave to myself stuck to the door of my armoire.  

i take pictures...

i'm in an era i want to remember.  

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the morning after

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agony

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what beauty have i lost?  what beauty have i forsaken???  goddamn it!  i mean, shit, Angela!  what the fuck with your clumsy ass???!!!  i fucking lost the last month's diary in a rental car today.  jesus christ!  my head is spinning.  if not for being drunk, i'd be an inconsolable mess and i'm goddamn serious.  those pages are my life.  they are not eloquent, they are entirely messy and full of slang and all sorts of ill-manner of expression but those expressions are MINE and they are GONE.  i carry my diary with me everywhere.  everywhere.  i need the notebook with me, bouncing against my hip in my tote bag.  i need it.  i NEED it and it's gone.

i can let go.  i can say it doesn't matter.  i can shrug and tell myself , "it's just a thing, little girl.  things don't matter."  but between those black and white speckled covers rests the description of the morning with X when he spoke with his young son...  his small voice radiating from the receiver in to the air of the hotel room while his father lay next to me, naked, caressing my shoulder, as his southern accent filled the room, calling his boy "baby"  and "precious".  such unmistakable, unarguable beauty.  such love.  this father, this son.  and this lowly girl, this stupid, inept, aching woman at his side...  so awestruck by the reality that such a love can exist...  a love my father never felt for me...  yet instantly recognizable to my eyes, to my ears, to my heart ...   it was a moment of such total, clear, undeniable beauty that two days later my heart broke under the weight of such a memory...  a memory i will gladly bleed for and writhe under in pain; a memory i will gladly suffer to keep.  i am blessed to have had that moment.  two hours tops in a hotel room one morning in november...  lost in the contents of my diary, motherfucking LOST!  i hate myself so fucking much right now i have no words!  i have no words. I HAVE NO WORDS because someone out there has my motherfucking diary in their hands and, hoping they love it as i do, i have to find a way to wake up tomorrow morning, make coffee, and write on loose leaf paper.  i want to fucking vomit all over myself right now.  i cannot believe this happened.  rushing, rushing, trying to return the car on time, my precious notebook slipped from my bag and somehow i didn't notice.  FUCK ME!!!  GODDAMN IT!!!

if you rented the zipcar "hot pants" from the chevron on telegraph avenue tonight and found my diary, please contact me.  please please please!!!! angelasimione at aol dot com

thank you and i love you forever.


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makes me wish you were here

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this morning...

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...counting my many blessings.   

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this wish

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the countdown begins...

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a mere 8 days stand between me and my adventure.  or maybe the adventure is (and has always been) well under way.  it is, in fact, the life that came before that has made me capable of living bravely now.  i am ecstatic and discombobulated and so entirely grateful.  my bag is packed and waiting.  i'm thankful that i have a few more days at work to keep me occupied and make a bit more money to throw around in new york and berlin.  otherwise, i'd just be a total basket-case right now pacing in the kitchen and waiting for the morning when i get to board my plane.  it's almost all i can think about at this point.  :)

i'll leave an hour early for work today to stop off and buy a red Kelly Bundy dress to wear during my travels.  i feel a red dress is absolutely necessary.  especially a tight one. :)  red lipstick is, of course, an undisputed travel requirement as well.  and this morning, Becca and i texted excitedly back and forth to each other about how inexplicable and wonderful and TOTALLY UNBELIEVABLE this whole thing is.  regardless of what happens, this will definitely be an eye-opening, life-changing event in both our lives and i feel so excited to be on the cusp of it.  excited and lucky.  

i can't believe this is my REAL life.  but it IS!  

the feeling of being Capable is one of the best feelings in the world.  it is my hope that, regardless of a woman's life or dreams, she feel Capable.  it is the very root of genuine happiness, courage, and self-respect. 

satisfaction is a wonderful feeling

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romance.


and last night while walking in the cold, cold wind in san francisco, i realized no one has ever provided for me as well as i provide for myself.  i must somehow allow myself at least a short moment to feel proud of myself and the life i am creating.  these dreams once seemed so far out of reach...  impossible to believe ever coming true.  here i am with a passport and plane tickets with my name on them.  BIG MIDDLE FINGER TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO SAID MY GOALS WERE STUPID AND UNREALISTIC. 

smiling so big right now.  :D 


hahahahaaa!  and i cannot help but giggle to myself.  i know i still have 3 1/2 weeks to wait until i board my plane to New York but it's going to fly by and my excitement is building building building.  Becca and i will rendezvous at her favorite restaurant in the village 2 days before we get on another plane to Heathrow Airport.  i'm trying not to get misty eyed just thinking of it now.  i'm trying not to get too far ahead of myself.  i have absolutely no idea what to expect but i can't wait to grab my bag and let this adventure begin.  yesterday, i played tourist in SF and bought the bag i will live out of for a month.  bright yellow in honor of my long lost Bumble Bug.  i loved that little car so much but the life that awaits is one in which owning a car is totally unnecessary.  it's unnecessary now.  i love that i live in such a way that allows me to enjoy the romance of riding trains daily.  and aside from which, me and my converse get around just fine.   ;) 

artist life.

HOLY SHIT!

covering the basics

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DEATHMARCH (write your heart out)