Dear Journalist

quite some time ago I ran across an article written by a supposed hirsute journalist. the article angered me. so much so, i sat down and wrote her a letter. i never finished said letter, but came across my notes for it the other day.

i was angry because she went on an on about the right to be hairy but she shaved to please her boyfriend.

she said why should he have to endure her armpits which were an aesthetic assault to those around her. especially her man.

she then went on to say how liberated and furry proud she was. her decision to be hairy was declarative, a feminist act, an aggression of sorts

but for him she shaved

does that make sense??

dear hirsute journalist, i wanted to write to you to acknowledge your recent article, it’s interesting to me what becomes news today. I like you am a hirsute female. I have a long history of trying to fit my natural presence in an unnatural society. i feel perhaps more seasoned in the battle. it’s one thing to personally wrestle with having more hair than those around you. it’s another to find the internal courage to be with it. even more courage to be out loud about it…your article made no sense to me. How can you declare a personal i am hairy victory and shave at the will of a boyfriend?”

that’s as far as the letter got….i remember feeling like the topic of hair was really bait for some whiney article that wasn’t about hirsutism at all.

it made me dislike her.

when i braved growing my legs and armpits out 10 years ago. i was actually VERY brave. when the hair growth was in it’s full glory – it was beautiful. I fell for it as much as you did. The reality and day to day world around me? Not so much. I was shunned. I was verbally assaulted. I was misunderstood.

TODAY — a decade later, and this is why i am writing this post. my pit hair is not nearly as abundant. it’s thinned, it’s not very dark, its certainly not what it use to be. same for the hair on my legs. even my pussy hair is different.

the hair on my face is where the current abundance is.

try that one on dear journalist.

And Now April Is Gone Too

well,

i asked you how you are. things pandemic and all.

i meant what i asked.

how are you?

i can’t believe it’s april

i lost january to 27 days of the crud.

who knows, that could have been the virus for all we really know.

lost february to catching up.

it’s a new year after all.

lost march in a big way. all things cancelled.

i can’t believe how many i know who are without work

now april is gone too.

I am OK.

i made a LOT of art.

with much more to make

this fills my time and keeps my mind at ease.

this week, as distracting as this thing killing way too many people is

i went from distracted to derailed.

started on monday

i just have this inkling of panic

on the edge of boiling over.

grocery shopping being one of the triggers.

it’s hard to get a distance on ones self here in the city studio

everyone hair flips during things pandemic

yes?

( i broke my comb that day. cheap shit of a comb. i had given my brush to my son. needless to say i am now using the wonder brush. it’s called the wet brush. it’s rather wondrous – who the F knew ) 

french braid selfie anyone?

were those the panties i wore the last time i panty self captured.

say nice things to me next time you write please.

 

When There Are Two Of You

while an alter ego isn’t a multiple personality

there are two ways that i portray myself

i notice this duality mostly with men.

lets start with dating. from a decade ago

my duality was expressed most then

lets say its me. me/me. not nude me

just regular me.

i met guys through online dating

if something clicked via email.

i took it to phone.

my dating profile might share that i am a creative, that i am complicated/quirky, that i have an empty nest, that i love to cook and take road trips. most men tell me that they love my phone voice. i would share my distaste for smokers. or other deal breakers. I would ask a ton of questions. the first call is a test/ a screening of sorts. can they keep a conversation going, are they inquisitive, do we have anything in common. It’s at this time that i wonder should i tell them that i am nude online?? Or do I wait. Because more often than not – men who are curious about me and find out that i am nude on line are horrified.

some comments include: you mean i’d have to share you? what are you some sortof slut? why would you do that? and then i’d have to explain. ( well i am a creative and it’s an art form. a bit like performance art with out the performing and and and ) Those men I never meet.

the reason i’ve wanted to be upfront about my nudity is at some layer whoever my next lover is  i have long hoped that person would be my muse. that if we coupled and it stuck, that i could photograph it.

otherwise. what’s the point.

there are then men who read my blog. they want to meet me. they decide that I am interesting or fascinating or brave. or they want to befriend me, while they have seen me very nude, and masturbating. the framing for a meet is different.  it’s going to be a tryst.  it’s going to be sexual, it’s something we don’t tell anyone about or photograph, and its not necessarily a circumstance where someone is going to know or get or inquire about the real me.or for that matter…have time for me. i am entertainment. peripheral.

this is simply my experience,

i am not complaining. i am speculating.

the tryst. while rather exciting in it’s moment

tends to then fall flat.

it has no room to blossom or become

i want to see you are empty statements

placating

and untrue.

well, perhaps the desire is there. the reality has no truth.

don’t say what you don’t mean.

or can’t bring to fruition i say.

the meet is taking. self serve.

perhaps that’s what trysts are.

i ache always for more.

perhaps that’s an issue.

it’s been forever now that i’ve dealt with either circumstance

may be forever that I ever will.

which way would it be best for you to know me?

i love this very moody self portrait taken in the home i lost. 

 

 

 

Leaning Tower Of Couch

how are you doing during this time of coronavirus?

i mean it. are you ok. are those you care about ok? what part of the world are you in and what are you observing ?

in the states its predicted that this week the virus will express itself and multiply

where i live. as of today it’s officially 2 weeks of lock down.

my chair is broken.

happened a few days ago

it’s a rocking recliner.

i got it for free.

if i am not sitting in it. it rocks

but while i am in it or leaning forward it just goes flat.

what is that mechanism….a spring gone bad??

is it fixable?

it now has sortof a permanent forward lean. UGH

i can use the ottoman to leverage it back but i don’t always sit that way

the leaning forward reminds me of this insane story, that i thought would amuse you.

i use to own a three flat. the basement had a one bedroom apartment.

the basement also had a storage and laundry room

the door to get into the basement apartment was on the way to the laundry room.

i rented to a young couple once. they both were employed as security guards/ they had longevity in their jobs. references were all positive. both were short/ heavy set folks

they move in.

once settled – outside their apartment door, stacked ever so neatly were cases of jumbo size canned ravioli. chef boyardee. yup, the good stuff

just inside the door was their couch. it’s two front legs were missing

leaning tower of couch

to prop said couch they used

you guessed it

jumbo cans of chef boyardee ravioli.

said couple use to leave their door open.

They would sit on propped couch. NAKED while watching TV

and eating…. wait for it,

chef boyardee ravioli out of the jumbo can. OUT OF THE CAN

I’d go downstairs to put a load of laundry into the dryer

and there they were.

Naked.

as time progressed. ravioli eating naked tenants on leaning tower of couch were home all the time.

i would hear this pop song. it would play over and over and over

something about making babies or all i want to do is be your baby or some bubble gum obnoxious lyric

from the sounds that were coming from said basement.

i’d say they were making a baby. or two or three or whatever.

i had a one year old.

the whole scenario was two much.

eventually these folks stopped paying rent,

of course they HAD to go.

once gone. they left leaning tower of couch.

no jumbo cans of ravioli

and they left of all way bizarre things

a HUGE box of animal porn magazines!!!

oh my gosh.

certainly not something one sees every day

TRUE story.

later i wondered, perhaps this was their pattern.

apartment to apartment.

the things folks get away with.

or how odd people are

at a glance if you met this young couple you’d never know.

i cant recall if i’ve written this story before or not.

in my mind there was a set of images taken with my now broken chair.

but for the life of me…

i can’t find them.

this one will have to do

 

 

 

Do I Ever Wonder?

do you ever wonder how many cocks have been smacked around to your blog photos?”

hmmmmmmm what a question.

am I here on purpose to provide visuals for men to masturbate to?

I AM NOT

What started one way naively became something else.

Happy accident I guess.

if you are a cock smacker when here, then lucky you.

I get that there is over a decade of anonymously nude images that perhaps imply something of a sexual nature.

i am not by any means a heavily trafficked feed at Flickr. I do find some of my stats interesting though

my feed has had 18 MILLLION views

my most popular post has had

71, 549 views

238 likes

and 104 comments.

is that good?

does that  mean there is lots of cock smacking on flickr??

i have a 52 page word document of praise 52 pages!!! and some of that praise includes declarations of cock smacking.

perhaps all of that is flattering somehow.

i ask this…

what do i do with that all that oooh baby sex talk, the often vulgar adoration, those super gross tributes and dick pictures?

because none of that does a thing for me. sexually anyway.

what do other almost 60 year old women that you know do?

I am not complaining

i am not explaining

i guess i am simply commenting on the question asked

( taken in 2010 i believe – they are a tad dark. pre-lightroom. couch surfing dream couch, so folks said. i have been thinking about and missing a couch. ) 

 

 

Friday Night

Today is really no different than any other Friday. There is no hum here, no date, no friends, no plans, no event to attend.  This is mostly normal for me. The internet and it’s hum is usually less on a Friday. I feel that lessoning. I feel like perhaps folks just don’t have time for me. It’s a self made feeling/decision/conversation in my head,  yet the reality of it is real. On monday the internet vibe is back.

isolating isn’t new to me. social distancing they say.

i do this.

I have posts to write, music i am enjoying, a full fridge for now and leftovers. my cat is in a mood, so there is that, and i didn’t make my bed. I might not make it. whatever – right?

this is a different friday night

The pandemic around us. what a blaring spiral of frightening worldly news,  currently leaves my silver threaded head spinning. It is unnerving. it’s disruptive, it’s alarming. and…it’s real.

around me. the month of march is cancelled. literally. as is most of april. shut it all down. wash your hands, don’t touch your face. where can I find some TP. Better yet, how long does a roll of TP last me, personally? Send me TP.

many strive on. thats what we do. outside of being sick with the coronavirus, you have to hunker down and not spread the germ. be respectful neighbors at the moment

we all have to make our way,

work. some still have to work

or own a business

or are teachers in schools that

can’t send kids that they also feed home

or or or. the scenario’s are endless.

so lets rethink

or create new ways to be out there.

I admire that for some – this is already in place.

As I observe, I am feeling grateful.

we at least have the internet.

if it wasn’t for the interweb – i’d not be famously anonymously nude

i’d not have met most of you

i’d not have a decade of portfolio

i’d not have these blank spaces to brain dump on.

The show that I am part of in Chicago

exhibits virtually.

Each opening is represented with it’s own gallery

forever.

This practice of virtual representation is so important.

not all galleries do this.

some don’t take the time.

some want to remain aloof

yet think about it. times like these

you can still be part of something.

Don’t live in Chicago?

Can’t attend the opening?

Interested in art?

in buying art?

Check out this show.

or other fine galleries online.

and thank you Jackson Junge Gallery.

view the group show or inquire about purchasing here

The Woman With Hair

scored a small stack of used SUN magazines at the library yesterday. i love that magazine, i tear it apart for collage, and enjoy the writing. I’ve submitted my own writing a few times, and a few times a year i submit black and white images, no luck so far. at least i try.

while pulling the magazines apart last night i was drawn to it’s nude scape, with it was the title. “the woman with hair” 

One particular line made me smile. 

“Her hair was unlike anything I’d ever seen. It straddled time zones; it lived and breathed, making deep exhalations down to her toes.”

I have to marvel that issues dated back to 2005 or further are now all available online.

a discussion had at the same library talked about the days before we had the web.

to think that there are generations now of folks who don’t know before.

This  last week I heard from fans that had intrigue with my opening in Chicago this evening. ( thank you ) and NO I will not be at the opening.

they start by saying,” I’ve followed your work for a long time” 

I feel two things when I read this.

I never knew.

and,

thank you.

I guess I get the silent fandom thing

i admire and am a fan of many a person.

it’s just in the realm of lonely.

it’s nice to actually know you are here.

speaking of scapes.

i really don’t have that many in my portfolio.

i am partial to the over exposed one. mod and lunar somehow