Sit This One Out

I came today to share that i feel it may be time to phase out of what i do here at the blog. perhaps you’ve noticed that i am not posting as often as I use to. the compulsion to post is completely gone, and the reasons to stay and post are no longer rewarding. i don’t discount those who still subscribe, read faithfully, visit occasionally but any interactions that are meaningful are quite minor, definitely minor compared to the flurry of things when i began here over a decade ago.

with things pandemic, i hesitate to make any major creative decisions. it’s such an intense time right now. do i want to completely disappear – i am not sure. and yet, i feel when i do come to post I think to myself gee, i should share a nude image vs i can’t wait to share something nude with you. there is a difference. it feels obligatory, stagnant and forced. and flat. being here no longer feels like

when i got here today. wordpress shifted to it’s new upgraded whatever posting template and it SUCKS. no option to work in the classic way. i am not in the mood to learn a new way of doing things. that might sound a little childish – but change is not something i am in the mood for right now – took me 10 minutes to post an image and i can’t remember how i did it. fuck that.

SO for now i am sitting this one out. i may post again. i may not.

if you want to reach out. you know how to find me. i welcome that.


Beddian Birthday occurs when the age a person is turning, is the same number as the last two digits of their birth year.

you get one in a lifetime.

that’s about all we can say about 60.

i was thinking about birthdays, and decades and parties and cake

at 10 there was a birthday party at our house. my friend from school, and my two neighbor girlfriends were included. one has to remember how unwelcoming my home was. the party was tense. my sisters were part of the gathering and i didn’t want them there. i was 10 and wanted my double digit gal friend space. i had a pixie haircut and my mom had made us these culotte jumpers. the jumpers were cute but not when your sisters were wearing them too.

at 20 i threw a party for myself inviting co-workers. we were ending a season of work together so it was also like a going away party. i secured food that was my favorite from where i grew up as a novelty, and noone really wanted to eat it.  i remember feeling rather disappointed by it all. like people in attendance were just being polite

at 30 i was 8 months pregnant and steeped in unhappiness in my marriage. my first child was just 3 and i was realizing that he and i were no longer going to be just the two of us – there was a lot of celebration with his extended family, which felt terribly awkward. after that birth i spiraled into post-partum depression, but had NO idea what that was. only in hindsight was i able to put all those pieces together. my mother went all out and made a homemade rib dinner birthday feast. my brother was there – our bdays are a day apart and i remember having a really good time at that birthday. my mom’s kitchen counter was so full of dishes that she lit the candles of our favorite birthday cake on the kitchen floor. that was a good memory.  i can’t even remember if my husband was there.

at 40, my second husband threw me a surprise party inviting people who he thought were my friends. they were not. awkward as get. he lacked finesse in the details. it was hosted at a gals house whom i had recently had a difference of opinion with. shortly there after the friendship ended. turns out hoopla like that. surprises were about him. not about the recipient.

at 50, i was brand new to a community. i was an empty nester. i had just bought a home, a feat i never thought possible, and in the end, not a good fit for me as you know. i got caught up in the making the impossible happen. at that time i was business focused, and later was shunned from a good portion of that town for having my own ideas and hair on my legs. sigh. i bought my own cakes and champagne and hosted my own random gig. the strangest collection of people attended. and noone ate cake. whats that about? someone asked me what 50 felt like and i described it as a springboard into the unknown. something i could feel underneath my feet.  most of my 50’s sucked.

60 finds me the most isolated i’ve ever been. my emotional and physical health challenged. it’s not that i have some terminal illness – thank goodness, it’s the myriad of failings that my body continues to throw my way. it’s my mind when it gets to that overwhelm place and my day is lost, it’s a panic i have that is indescribable. it’s the depth in which my heart is broken. over and over. seemingly the memories of things thwarted just haunt me – if there is a place of letting go – i have not found it yet. lately, the phrase where were you? has shifted to where are you?? but really where the fuck were you goes back to my youth. who’s got your back. who’s got you?? who gets you?  my connections to others virtual, thanks to things pandemic. oddly, i share that with you. we now have virtual connections in common in a very real way.  but how connected are they. really. i tell my children — there are the things we don’t say to each other.  this verbal silence causes harm. this saddens me. speak your shit. people disappear and i dislike it. i’ve distanced and detached for self preservation way too long now. a boundary.  a management of emotional bandwidth with no regret. i am better for it. this is truth for me. I’ve not left others in my wake. i’ve not ghosted or abandoned. i’ve just learned to say no.

I’ll make a special dinner for my beddian birthday. one that complies with my current eating program. i’ll find joy in …well, the only food joy currently is an avocado.

i’ll have a big piece cake in a delayed gratification way ….later. maybe. can one feel indifference about birthday cake?

last night i was snuggled in a blanket reading. for a building of 200 elders i find it rather amazing how very very quiet it is. a deafening quiet at times. so so very quiet. and i love it. i had quiet  years ago when i bought my house and i didn’t know what to do with it. i love and feel grateful for the privacy, and the peace of quiet. i also live in a city, so when the city awakens …there is noise. lots of noise. I also love that. quiet to me is very different from silence.

in my lifetime I steeped into three different communities. one as a new mother, the other as a single mom, and the other as an empty nester. where i live now i am the artist. a long overdue, perfect for current times way to be. each layer I felt i left some footprint, some layer of impact, something i can be proud of. when i wondered what i would be when i grew up i never thought how i would contribute to the world but i did. in my own way i was part of things bigger than myself. today i let my art be the connector. during the pandemic i joined a few new virtual groups. with consistency i ingratiate perfect strangers to me, and to my work. i continue to see that i have a volume of work that has distinction. unique to me. i am an artist. but i really need the affirming. I need the feeling that comes with the statement, “i love your work” I value the following.

how this applies to my nude work remains to be seen. i am just not making much nude work at the moment.

i mentioned this photo a bit ago and that i liked it. so, let me this be my beddian portrait.



i am not alone in trying to keep it all together

one can either encourage and flatter and be kind

or one can be mean and an asshole.

quite a bit of both from some of you.

i guess i have let some men/fans down.

“not putting out the juicy bits”

“lighten up”

“you use to be”



I try and let comments like that roll off my back, i don’t know who the folks are that write that to me, they seem to have an opinion based on something they see and think they know. vs my particular reality – they have NO idea who i am.

however, when you are eeking it,


shit like that just hurts.

being mean does not champion another human.

i’ve lived a long enough life to know that there will always be assholes.

why?? i mean really why?

does asshole move a person forward in life somehow?

with so much tension, isolation, tragedy and harm

people still must be assholes?

on the other side of asshole-ness

is kindness.

which i treasure

and appreciate.

you who are kind. you are wonderful, i hope you know that!

as to what I might need or want for my birthday.

and thank you for asking.

seriously. very cool

there is always a wish list. mostly now they are wants ( indulgent ) vs practical need – but something i don’t afford myself are magazine subscriptions.

a few that interest me are:

V fashion magazine – i use this large format glossy deliciously heavy page stock for all my binding art work. That and W magazine. ( thinner, newsprint almost page weight )

Audubon or National Geographic or Orion – i find great bird images in them – which i use often. i use to glean these from our library but since the pandemic. not so much

Sun Magazine for black and white images

the above are about $40 or so annually.

in the realm of magazines i don’t know about – those that highlight flowers, botanicals, quality fabric or textile publications interest me greatly. I just don’t know the titles of those. I need them to be again of a specific quality. martha stewart, dwell or simple living are not of quality – the photography in those are sterile and often flat – i once knew of a shop that had over 2300 magazine titles. or was it 3200 all in one place. ready to buy, to peruse, to have in your hand. woah. i have never paid retail price for a magazine, unless i am in an airport or something. On my shelf currently, almost all the magazines i have are gifted or found, and with those — I make my art.

which as you know, keeps me sane

i ask with no expectation but since some of you wondered

i gave it some thought.








thanks for the blog traffic the other day someone.

it’s nice to know that someone is here.

may not be more than that

but still. it’s nice

long and last summer weekend coming up.

i’ve been taking 4 day weekends most of the summer

pretending that it’s fun somehow.

escapism at its best

september launches sequential birthdays

birthdays of the most important people in my life

mine included.

the big six o

is that a big birthday?


send presents.

pandemic times put some of my health issues on pause

some really have to be attended to

this fills up my time/because it’s stupid

hoopy loopy insurance game playing stupid

and, because my bandwidth for all of it emotionally is pretty low

i am having panic attacks.

well not attacks. i had one.

but still.

health issues

took two images of myself in august.

one is too revealing of my face

but i actually like it.

this one is the most recent.

i like this one too

i don’t know how much i will be around the upcoming weeks.

focus is going internal.

well being centric focus.

send presents.

Kind And True

there is traffic here.

at the blog

that’s nice.

thank you.

over at flickr.

gawkers, and collectors

and rif raf prevail.

a few are


kind and true.

i appreciate you too.

the people.

it’s been said that i use to be


yes, i took more risks, i was more playful, i was expressed in a different way.

but that’s not because of me.

the really good images i’ve taken??

those come from

attention from all of you.

in the heat of things anonymously nude

where there was dating, and trysts, and newness

many many more of you were way way way more attentive.

i am not complaining.

truth be, today.

not sure if i could be as responsive as I was then.

i became broken if you recall


and triggered.

it doesn’t mean that i am not still in here


it just means a certain patient understanding kind and true

person would have to be at the core of the attention i need and deserve..

i was finding self love way before it was trendy

but really?

self love is a crock of mainstream bullshit

love yourself??

be accepting?


how about allowing others to contribute

how about connection


and attention.

be nice to your neighbor for goodness sake.

am i not the gal next door??

that’s what everyone use to say

don’t forget

some chocolate cake.

( had to throw that in there. i am off any and all food that is fun and i am dying )

images below all were spired by the personal attention of someone. a man.

the gift of their attention had me feel pretty, wanting to please and playful

plus i was way hairier.




i feel tired sometimes in a way that exhausts me

that the hold it all together somehow


has fallen flat,

that an all consuming tired has taken over.

in pandemic times i took on DO.

do things to keep me busy

do things to challenge me



the energy to do is just not on target always.

some days are not as


mondays however are seriously

too much tired.

i’ve got some health stuff.

i am sure that adds to the tired.

and some drama.

i heard that my father died.

the family didn’t tell me until 6 weeks after the fact.

the hurt and anger i feel that they did not tell me comes and goes


not a sense of loss

a huge pissed off feeling instead.

i masturbated the other day and injured my parts.

like a wound.

who does that?

there were two photos from the set below

one is full length

the full length one bothered me because my ankles are covered in scars

from my cat.

not sharing that one.

i am fat, bearded, scarred and pissed.


the image i decided to share today

shows how long my hair has gotten

but check out that doorknob.

that’s the real picture right there

A Tone Of Sorts

gee, 5 years already.

today marks an anniversary

i got dumped on this day.

such a mix of i really knew better and this isn’t working reality

but shit, i so didn’t have a plan.

just weeks prior

these images were taken.

i don’t know how these happened


he was not easy to work with in this way.

participating within my creative ideas and all.

these are a vibrant set of images

that i really love.

perhaps he was enjoying himself too?

the tone of them is immediate.

as circumstances go it was a long weekend

my standing in the doorway shirtless would otherwise have not have been a thing to do.


for fun, or to honor said five years – i removed him, leaving just his hand.

a ceremony of sorts.

creative ceremony

with a bit of fuck you on the side.

felt demonstrative to do that.

i like them even more.

in things pandemic

these images sure resonate with the word TOUCH


the lack of.

or in my case, the lack of.

since leaving him. 

forever ago.

i feel like screaming TOUCH ME from the roof tops.

an ache that is rattling inside me.

i know you feel that too.

i sometimes feel the weight of all of us missing normalcy.

as days go today

i am in a mood of sorts

distracted to derailed


i can’t remember the third “d” word.

angry. annoyed.

the top image with the doorknob is my very favorite.






I’ve been wondering about GODDESS.

not woo woo goddess

not mystical goddess

or religious goddess.

at least literally.

i mean figuratively.

i mean the adored goddess

the old, fat, wise one.

and HER shape.

bear with me. pondering post ahead.

A goddess is a female deity. Goddesses have been linked with virtues such as beauty, love, sexuality, motherhood and fertility. They have also been associated with ideas such as war, creation, and death. In some faiths, a sacred female figure holds a central place in religious prayer and worship. ( wikipedia )

when you and i met

12 years ago.


i had just lost a bit of weight.

i can’t remember if i ever divulged how much weight i lost

when i began photographing  myself here at anonymously nude

i had just lost 100 pounds.

yay me!!

i irst posted to show courage, and to understand what another sees.

the camera and my minds eye told two different stories

i found self love before self love was a hashtag

i LIKED what i was then.

in 2015, eight years later, a surge of unexplained weight gain occurred.

enough gain to scare me.

35 lbs in 30 days.

i blew up.

it felt like i blew up

the gain was like get to the dr scare me.

“you must be menopausal ” the endocrinologist said.


fast forward to now. 2020

all that weight. all those ONE HUNDRED POUNDS

is back.

UGH. it didn’t happen over night, the 2015 surge started it all …

recent dr work confirms – I don’t have cancer, or a brain tumor


but two years into figuring IT out

i can’t lose weight.

i’ve lost my knees, and my feet hurt

and my thighs are thick.

and my self love is


really hard to find the love

reasons why, like health reasons are still being explored.

BACK to goddess.

I began wondering about community

because to have that level of adoration one has to earn it.

bear with me.

i was back in town – the town i grew up in

on a break from school,

this guy from my grade school life

pumped my gas.

we talked for a really really long time

and he was a such delight.

like a guy i just wanted to hug.

and seeing him again and the feeling of our great conversation lingered

my growing up was detached from the community i lived in

he alone in those moments,  made me feel like i belonged somehow.

and then he died. death by choking on his vomit death.

horrified. mortified. not even equipped to …

i didn’t have the f-ing guts to attend the funeral.

because if i did that would have meant that i was part of the community somehow.

i’ve never spoken about this.

i have been thinking about how i was raised.

my one sibling and i agree

we were not parented.

we made it up as we went along.


who influenced me???

definitely the mothers of my friends, the librarians – is that weird? i loved those ladies. I felt so welcome and loved at the library, the nuns? uh no? ( actually … i’d have to think hard about that one. what characters those nuns were. perhaps there is more influence than i give credit . different conversation) 

MY POINT is in order to establish SELF AS GODDESS

one has to have a community who adores THEE.

perhaps that’s why i am here on the interweb.

is this why i’ve kept myself here?

This gets me to the history of where you didn’t belong

the million moves

the hyper focus of survival

the mortification of things failed

the make it up as you go along.

the WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU in the matter of.

ALL of this wondering was spired by a recent set of photos that

i see goddess in


SHE is in there.


why does said goddess have to be manifested in a physical form.

could my art, my thoughts and actions, could my knowledge be enough value?

somehow NOT rising to said goddess status feels way more authentic.

way more me.

way more earthly.

i mean, really who do i think i am anyway??

perhaps somewhere in the history of this blog there was that level of goddess adoration.

so much so, i felt assured and confident in that attention and in that following.

things change.

its so quiet here.

I drafted this post in early july.

one might think it’s yesterdays news but it is not

the goddess theme is finding me

in odd, mysterious and wonderful ways.

so far,  it has nothing to do with a nude alter ego

imagine that.

below, and behold

fat and wise











And You Thought You Had A Plan

if only i had a plan.

perhaps at some point in time i had one.


no plan.

a part of me

is rather ok with that.

i know a lot of people.

i don’t say that to be boasty.

or to even begin to think that i am popular.

i am not.

i say that because i began collecting and observing others very young

over time, i saw things, observed things, noticed ….things.

lots of folks think they have it all planned out

straight path

straight arrow

point a to point b


do this and this will follow.

my gal friend just paid off her burial spot.

if you knew her, you would feel as endeared by that as I

another couple i know were very prepared for retirement

actually they are probably the only couple I know

who got it right.

created and implemented THE plan for and lived a cushy no worry retirement.

this my dear she said is what you work for.

but for most that i know. truthfully

it doesn’t look like that at all.

and for some on the other side of all that planned living?

like elder/retirement years?

it’s not what they thought it would be.

even if they did all the right things.

they are miserable

and that just makes me sad.

perhaps traditional planning is a croc of shit.

i mean this year?  who could have ever planned for a year like 2020?

are you a news addict?

are you a junkie for being in the know?

sometimes i wonder if one took the time one wasted watching, reading and listening to the news — how much time that would actually be?

news is a drama filled spoon of bullshit fed to the masses

it’s calculated bullshit

folks eat it up.

and what do you really know ?

the truth?

that your weather man wears a tutu?

that the anchor woman got a new push up bra?

when news is real, and needs to be shared.

does telling the same thing. rinse and repeat

move the reality of that news story forward?

for air time?

for likes,

and readership?

why i am lumping a plan and the news into the same pondering is beyond me.

in current times




and voices vying to be heard.


of it

has me on edge.

it has me question everything

i even feel defensive.

IF i don’t rally with pink ribbons, rainbow socks, and fists of black and white

does that make me any less of a person?

if the judgement day finds me

and says I am less.

who do they – those who judge, who the f do they think that they are?

is that bullying?

I am left with such a sorting.

WHO am I in the matter

and why?

I think the idea of a having plan is what sparked this thought process.

History didn’t have a plan. 

as you and i spend time together.

we too are making history.

even if we have NO idea what we are doing.


what’s that about?






it’s fair to say i have baggage when it comes to my relationship with my father

this is a tough forced march of a holiday. sometimes i can roll with it. other times i just cant

i am sure over time i’ve pondered father before

its fair to say at 23, that perhaps a father/daughter relationship had found it’s way.

in truth. that was not so

“i never should have had you kids” ( just one of his many you are not my responsibility father quotes )

the man was 50, 37 years ago when over the phone he said. “i want nothing to do with you”

over the fucking phone. 

what a coward.


what an asshole.

2 weeks prior he hosted a lavish birthday party for me.

i had just turned 23.

who are you as a person by the time you become 50?

should you have some layer of strength of character??

who are you as a person when you become 23?

perhaps you are naive about life things still?

he was a newly divorced single father of 4 who was clearly in a middle age crisis.

i was about to marry.

i was a waitress/artist wanna be

expectations or not.

he didn’t believe in the institution of marriage. uh, duh

nor did he believe in a college education

he did not example “provider”

and most of who i experienced of him growing up

was a very selfish, very self centered man.

i walked myself down the aisle

i gave him two grandchildren

whom he never met.

i had a life without him.

12 years ago I came to terms with things father.

i came to terms in that

i became ok with loving him. because i did.

i found the memories that i could celebrate.

those are memories i will always have.

i was able to cull the characteristics of him that made him good.

when i sourced his phone # after 24 years. i called him to share that i had found the love  and goodness in him. that’s all i wanted to say.

it wasn’t easy finding his number. i searched for the sake of summing up the courage to do so, and i called to settle the emotional unrest in my heart.

my younger sibling found out that i had the number. she warned him, “she is going to try and reach you”


when i called, and heard his voice. i cried. and had to hang up.

when i called again.  he pulled his phone out of the wall. truth.

he pulled the phone out of the wall.


I am not sure I fully forgave

the forgive idea is a nice one

the reality?

not so much.

“i want nothing to do with you”

is still pretty much a stinger.

today i am left with a deep wondering

who was this man who fathered me

and how is it he became so fucked up?

I have no idea who he was. or who he is now.

i am left with the stories.

stories that i get to tell

that noone else can tell.

because who would ever believe me.

In recent weeks/months our society is crumbing around us.

i found these words

“we’ve got your back” 

I have been thinking hard about

where each of us comes from

and how we become compassionate humans.

some of us were raised in selfishness.

the narrow field of vision

blinds us.

some of us, had to self preserve and survive


or on our own.

in that space, some may not have the personal knowing of

“we’ve got your back”

I don’t have the answers that puts all of this into perspective.

i just know that when i needed parents, or family, or love.

it was not there.

i have witnessed father in it’s glory, with full heart, and grace. i know father can exist.

today, the humans around me are less, and often not tangible.

what others see in me.

is sometimes not what i see of myself.

self love is really hard.

i selected this image because i was researching an image for another gallery group show and this was taken in that same time frame. this living space was a f-ing twilight zone.

metaphorically i love the big bag of “get rid of”  and the every day ness of those sandals. i was hanging on here emotionally. like holding my breath. 

i also realized that the last several posts have been in black and white.