simple

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today, i bought myself flowers.  big, red daisies.  i don't know their actual name.  i cut their stems and put them in a mason jar.  i put the mason jar on the dresser by the bed.  i listen to patti smith.  i twist thin, soft, black yarn around my crochet hook and sink into a revery about how life once was.  not all my reveries are sad but i allow myself even those that are -  the freedom to mourn, the freedom to be upset, the freedom to feel lonely and singular.  the light was beautiful today and the food i'd bought for myself tasted good.  i walked in the sun, bought myself a new notebook, let my deep scars shine inside of me.  i tried to listen to them.  today, they want to cry.  sometimes, the old aches wake up.  sometimes, the best thing to do is to let them...  to give them their due, to allow for a reckoning, to give them their say.  and so i twist yarn around a hook and listen to car alarms, listen to my laundry tumbling in the dryer, listen to patti smith.  i pour myself a glass of Dr. Loosen Riesling and salivate all over a tiny hunk of Saint Auger blue cheese. i allow myself these pleasures, these luxuries, so distant incongruous to the life i once lived.  i allow myself this moment.  i allow myself to be silent, to stop the performance of so many things, to free myself from the cage of constant smiling.  i lay on my bed in front of the small electric fan and twirl my hair.  today, i am grateful for it all, everything that has happened even though my spirit lowers its feathers to hide its diamonds. despite the anvil of memory, today was new.  and tomorrow so shall be.  

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i just love her. :)

hope

we took a truck-load of books over to the new place yesterday. easily a thousand pounds of paper weight. GEEZ! hahahaha! and this morning i loaded as many paintings as i could in to the truck and j will cart them all over later this afternoon while i get in some study time in preparation for my German final and go to my second-to-last shift at my retail gig. the end of things... the slowing of the old cycle yet still racing to the finish. there are things that i must finalize and be responsible to for just a little bit longer. walking outside yesterday evening in the beautiful yellow light in oakland and having a new set of keys in my hand woke up a firey hope. it was hard to drive away and come back up here to the cabin. and looking at j across the restaurant table yesterday as we celebrated with philly cheesesteaks, i realized that nothing is broken and that we are completely beautiful, wiser than we were at the beginning of this little detour out to the country, and stronger for having gone down this road. i stayed up late drinking mint tea and finished Just Kids. i'm not going to spoil it for you, just read it. especially if you're an artist. especially if you need a dose of courage and an art-related pep talk. i think it's required reading for all artists or anyone caught in a struggle. it's a very encouraging, inspiring document. patti smith's honesty in this memoir is so generous, so beautiful. the book, in so many ways, functions as a guide and a warm hug. it was definitely the right thing for me to read as my life here winds down and a new one springs up in the east bay, right next door to my beloved san francisco.





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the apartment hunt is finally over and so many hopeful things have arrived

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Easter Sunday

and i think (in paraphrased ways) of my favorite part of the bible: if they'll not receive you, shake their dust from your feet.

and today also strangely (fittingly?)- the anniversary of Martin Luther King's assassination. a day that always makes me sad. always always always. but thankful for his life, short as it was, as a proof of the absolutely gorgeous potential for nobility in man.

two "poems" for you this day:

yellow

brewing a second pot of coffee and listening to patti smith, i'm on a painting rampage today. i started a big, yellow oil painting a few days ago and, unexpectedly, letting a bit of color back in to the work has made me go gaga for the process of painting again. i love that! one small change and the reason i fell in love with painting in the first place is reawakened and i'm a frenzy in the studio. i feel more driven and dedicated than i have in weeks. maybe this change has been waiting to happen longer than i realise? at any rate, it feels great and i'm happy to be working in this manner again: my long-loved realism.