Sketch #3

i know better to start numbering things.

i’ll goof numerically eventually. but for now this works.

there is a cat nestled on me. sucking on a towel, splaying her claws and digging them accordingly. sometimes she runs her paws through my beard which feels super weird. when she purrrrrrs, she drools. thus another reason for the towel.

days and nights are flying by. time, space and life. moments.

i can’t seem to get my brain on today. its a weekend day so that’s ok, but the feeling is real. writing sometimes helps me engage those neurons. does the brain have neurons??

i had someone YELL at me for posting my drawings/sketches yesterday. and this person additionally demanded I post more nudes. there are 4000 images of me nude on the interweb. is that not an abundance of???

i blocked the asshat ( gosh i love that word ) of a stranger. whatever dude. it doesn’t change the feeling of being yelled at tho.

the wind from yesterday has taken most of the leaves now. they are bare. naked. i like the bleak in it’s own way. lacey. sky reaching.

after the birth of my son….perhaps i have shared this story already. i grew out my armpit hair.  i wanted to see how long it would take for my husband at the time to say anything. to notice. after the birth of my son it was as if i was no longer his wife. i was solely now the mother. i felt the loss. almost like a grief of sorts. his family noticed the hair. they would pull me aside. perhaps you can shave your armpits?? we understand that you are in a hippy phase. ( ha! ) said the white conservatives. sigh. finally, said husband did say something. “whats with the hair?” I then said, oh…i was just curious if you would notice. He said, “fuck you”  We never discussed if I liked it, or how he felt about it. You could cut the disapproval with a knife. This was also around the time he said things like. “I don’t need you.” Years later when hurts recycle themselves, when what he said …repeated itself. He denied what he had said to me. he never did own up to his words. his indifference. All I could think about at the time was …wow, this is not how it’s supposed to be.  I loved being a mom. For a period of time I was a stay at home mom. I loved that too. I was good at it.  I felt lonely in a way that was pretty describable. for a women who was married and beginning a family, that was pretty uncool. Much later when the marriage was ending. Him turning his back on me emotionally showed up in my art. profoundly. when i showed him 3 large drawings i had made and commented on my observations. can you guess what he said???? 

this sketch was all of 3 minutes.

compared  to  the  other  two….me  thinks  you  can  tell.

my space bar on my lap top was just acting funny.


a bit of clarity found me …

thinking about the months of 2019 gone by

i tried on posting differently.

i tried dosing my fans with my reality

truth be my life is not that interesting.

not in a day to day way

there is a sameness to the way i do life

some things stay the same.

posting truth and in the now revealed some interesting things about my followers.

and posts that are sharing and vulnerable in the now revealed very interesting things about me.

come 2020, i will go back to my retro style posts.

i will stay as far away from the me/the person in the equation

and just stick to artful nudity.

at least that’s how i am feeling right now.

earlier today i was filled with this memory of myself as a mom.

it was with my very young son. early grade school age. he was in tears. something had happened at school. he said. “mom, i just like want to be like everyone else.” one thing about him was he didn’t often speak. he was private and reserved. when he said something you listened. and you treasured his insight and his sharing. he was such an internal intense young being.  i remember holding onto his slight shoulders. I remember my heart breaking because he was struggling. and yet, i shook him. I spoke to him firmly.  i remember saying. “NO. you never EVER want to be like others. It’s better be your own person. It’s best to simply be YOU. NEVER try to be like another that is ordinary. be like someone that sets them self apart …someone that you really like and admire.” It amazes me that i remember this moment so clearly.  I wonder if he remembers. I wonder if I failed him in that moment. I still feel this way about being our own selves.

The OTHER decision I made has to do with my green chair. 


it no longer offers a place to sit. it just takes up space.

the chair is simply fucking uncomfortable.

I kept the chair for when company comes. Noone really visits me … and if they do, we usually share a meal so, what’s the point?  I have other chairs. Not like this one of course but  …in a pinch i can offer someone a place to sit.




Autumn 2014


in my fantasies

halloween includes heaving breasts, no panties, sneaky kisses  and getting some.

that’s what costuming is for.

otherwise its some popular forced march that i never belonged to.

i’ve had good ideas for the party i have to go to

and feel once i am there like the douche bag/wall flower that i really am.

have i described myself that way before??

i can be brassy and bold

for a sec.

and then stupid peer whatever knocks me flat.

if i never participate in the parade known as halloween that’s OK.

FIVE years ago. i was getting laid. a LOT

i felt desired.

on the side. here, at flickr. there was other deliciousness happening

i was getting the attention i deserve.

perhaps that’s the difference to today.

the attention vessel is so very very empty.

on flickr a comment called me “a rider”

excuse me?

REad my “about”.

it’s not all about the pictures asshole.

or perhaps it is.

these pictures were taken in the house i lost

i hate the farmers tan.

not a fan of the belly.

but i remember feeling great arousal.

i remember thinking someone would like these

i remember photographing myself here.

probably the same pants i had on last post.

i miss the wet

the want

the attention.

in the same week, a very hot image of mr cowboy and I.

i was on the counter. legs spread, there was rum

and levi’s.


strange day today.

something pretty wild happen


it may not all pan out

but the tone of the day altered because of it.



That Something

it’s pitch black dark.

i ate dinner already. empty fridge club and all.

it’s month end

and, i am eeking it.

sales are low.

a very thin crescent moon is rising within the framing of my window. seeing it right now is making me very happy.

my cat is curled up in her little cubby next to the chair that i sit in. no, not the green chair. that chair has lost most of it’s luster. much like I have. it’s only there for company to sit in. but nobody visits. i wonder if i got rid of the chair if all of a sudden company would knock on my door. it’s not like i’ve ever been one to really entertain. I love to cook for another. I did that for staycation, i did that for the man who has a dog instead of dating. i did that for my daughter….

I am in my corner so to speak. the place i do most of my writing. it’s the corner that gives me a view of the space, and the view of the trees and sunsets outside.

the tiffany lamp next to me is the lamp that goes through the most light bulbs.

i made art all day today.

part of that included taking 2 sets of nudes

1, just one,  struck me as appearing to have

that something

that thing inside of me

that is

alive somehow.

i have not felt a desire to photograph myself for some time.

the sameness of it

or the sadness of it


the whatever of it.

just isn’t really there.

a phone call last night with an old male friend

had me laughing out loud.

i ended the call because i was losing my voice.

i don’t do that much anymore.


the laughing felt really great.

the cat and i

do a lot of silence.

i love the silence.

here is the capture that might remind me

that I am in there.


the moon sliver is now gone.




Not sure I will continue here come 2020. 

I recently ended a 3 year project. The vibe had left it. It went flat.

This may be at that juncture.

2019 for lack of a better way of saying it has been too vulnerable.

the story in real time is changing.

i am not clear who is that interested.

or who cares.

sure the interest in my being nude is there. duh.

i am more than that.

i am not clear my interest in myself nude is enough.

there are over 4000 images of me nude on the interweb

perhaps that’s enough?

perhaps the memory of who i was then

when all of this began

filters the who i am in reality today.

so many of you think of me as who i was.

not who i am.

this can be frustrating.

i want you to know something.

when you write to me. outside of blog comments

i am often very flattered.

so flattered, i copy those comments into a word file.

on a bad day, i’ll give those messages a read

Often they remind me of a feeling of cherish.

The document is FIFTY pages long.

Since my world is so solo, and so sameness, and in current times

so so very anxious.

the words you wrote to me

the pause you took to write them

and the sentiment from which they found me

is treasured.

in my real world you are not really here

but my virtual world is pretty rich.

lately though some who write to me has had a layer of skank.

a layer of disrespect. an expectation that is inappropriate

requests for things i have NO interest in doing.

who the fuck thinks they can ask for such things?

i get rattled by these random asks.

before, i could let them roll off my back

lately. not so much.

think of it this way

lets say you were my lover.

lets say you expect us to be intimate.

your expectation would be thwarted because all i want at the moment …

is to be held.

my disappointing you would mortify me.

( retro. bra wearing days. before all the flesh fell and bra wearing became a thing of the past. I miss the visual ornamentation. The breast swell. The pretty. I don’t miss the expense. cost rape. stupid. it’s underware for gosh sake )