OFF

tomorrow is thursday.

a week ago, on thursday i thought it was wednesday

i then proceeded to think friday was thursday.

i was on the wrong day for two entire days

oblivious.

when i found out it was friday.

imagine how mortified i felt.

imagine the befuddlement

for the life of me i can’t figure out how i did it.

HOW on earth???

and noone said anything.

if you recall i’ve done this one other time before

and felt equally puzzled by it.

WTF.

i can only blame pandemic times.

my good news of the week is that i am in a virtual group show in chicago.

it opens june 5th.

it’s my first opening since early march.

that steam punk show got lost in the pandemic shuffle.

the theme for this one is “touch”

i had done this piece about masturbation

i felt it was a good fit for the art call.

while the show was juried, one piece was gauranteed an in

i only sent in the one.

the 8.5 x 11 mixed media piece includes an image i took a good 10 years ago.

i then made it into a crazy quilt style panel. using magazines, stitching and ribbon. The edges are bound like a quilt. the collage has a baroque feel I think.

with regard to this image at that time i wondered what masturbation might “look like” this was a take on it that i loved. using a timer.

i am very proud of this. its a unique one of a kind piece.

i’ve made others.

let me know if you feel curious to see them.

It’s NOT awful

what if i said that living in times of pandemic isn’t awful

would that be a GASP of a comment?

what if all the alone that i know and that you endure with me

is in her element.

there i said it. i am actually content.

i may have to stay inside

as all of us have been called on to do

i do that anyway.

i have lived this isolated way for a long while now.

i know this life

I might be poor

i might be alone

but I HAVE
SO MUCH. 

there is content.

and there is gratitude.

2 years ago my building was painted. it went from this hideous red sortof color to a lovely bright white

i started calling it my ivory tower.

if my beard gets any longer

we could add the element of rapunzel to the mix

( ok that just seriously made me laugh )

and yes, i amuse me myself and i often.

a recent tarot card pull

found a woman holding a cat

wearing a very very tall dress

filled with hearts.

i saw myself in this card.

the cat lady in her tower.

the card made my laugh actually

it was so revealing

the card was about contentment.

it affirmed OK-ness.

such a simple thing

what sucks the life out of contentment

or being you in the matter

is comparing.

so and so does this.

so and so looks this way

so and so is in love.

If you let it

comparing messes with contentment

it calls out

on the MORE

BETTER

NOT good enough.

It messes with you.

I feel that.

i know those thoughts.

who cares what someone else is doing?

This does not include those I know that are so so very sick right now.

That part just envelopes me with an indescribable helplessness

I don’t know how to help.

and when we add that it’s wordly.

well, that’s a larger empathic swell.

it’s so so much bigger than me

The biggest lesson right now for me

is

I am OK.

I am good.

I am alone

and i am lonely

yet. that’s me.

right??

it’s what is so.

all said,

that does not mean i am FINE.

Fine is so. ORDINARY

Fine says nothing about how one is.

I am definitely not ordinary

( taken recently. i love them)

 

 

Attracted To

you and i have probably had more time on our hands than usual lately.

pandemic and all.

i sometimes wonder if the all chatter going on inside my head was written down somewhere,

what it might say.

how many different directions would it be dialoguing (sp??)

when you’ve done alone for as long as i have

you get use to the chatter in your brain.

i have these epic dreams sometimes

and think, gosh, i just never stop.

the thing is i don’t want to stop.

i want to be a curious, wondering and idea making being.

i always have.

my own ideas always set me apart from others.

i was very young when i left home. too young.

and i didn’t leave. i ran.

when i came back i never felt very welcome.

there was no belonging.

people who knew me when i left had this impression of me.

when i came back – they held onto what or who they thought i was

that was no longer me.

i had changed.

there was trauma that year.

trauma i didn’t speak about

or even begin to understand until many many years later.

this is true in life.

who i was in college

who i was in marriage

who i was a mother

or a friend.

who i was as a lover.

those are all who i use to be.

what about who i am now?

I think all of us hold onto these ideas we have about what makes us valid.

i want to be and feel useful to another. i want others to be proud of me.

i want cherish. that deep something that is very hard to describe.

the pandemic has been a very very fascinating social experiment

it’s brought out the ugly

its’s brought out the scared.

and it’s brought out the inquiry

who you are in the matter means something.

when someone asks how i am doing.

i feel very grateful.

especially if they listen when you reply

i find i am less attracted to certain folks

the energy or vibe they offer

is not what i want to be a part of

we are all going to be different because of these months of

i know i am.

i like the social isolation.

it’s more me than i knew.


I’m Still Here

so my cat’s newest antics in the morning to awake me is getting her claw stuck in the tin mirror i have hanging near my bed. it’s not her mission to get stuck, more so the sound her paw makes on it is fun sounding, and to her that’s a way of communicating. i need lessons in cat speak perhaps.

i’m still here. hello. i’m here!!

i had a dream a few nights ago. when i think of this dream it STILL makes me laugh. out loud. all by myself. to tears. roaring with laughter. last night i thought about this dream and ended up sobbing. is the dream a vehicle to remind me of laughter. the tears of joy?? Or should i be troubled by the ridiculousness of the dream.

or am i simply miserable?

i’m still here. hello. i’m here!!

over the decade that i’ve been writing here. few will reach out to me and tell me that they “read me” from blog post to blog post. from the beginning to the current. in one sitting. in one anonymously nude sitting. wow. each time i hear this i feel amazed. remember i thanked someone for being at my blog last week? the high traffic? someone had sat up the entire night. reading me. wow.

one man, long ago, was in an italian coffee shop. he said, there he was in public enjoying this delicious secret. he then went home to his wife. and he told me about her. and his unhappiness of their marriage. i never quite know what to say. thank you? thank you for reading my work. Thank you for enjoying my photography  i don’t usually hear from these men again. they just want me to know that they spent time with me. which is of course rather wonderful.

what I wish is a deeper sense of their experience. i was here isn’t enough. it’s not that the person isn’t enough. i just wish that I WAS MORE.

I’m still here. hello. I’m here!!

the longer things pandemic keep us isolated. the more my personal reality looks me in the face. i never counted the days that i’ve stayed at home before. ( i was last in my car 15 days ago ) 

the truth is, thats rather normal for me. i can do blur of time really well.

it’s what comes with the pandemic mind that I am having trouble with.

i know i do not feel this alone.

this is all a real mind fuck.

an article is circulating. don’t get me started about the stupidity of the press – – it’s about the insensitivity of asking “how are you?”

are you kidding?

the article pissed me off. like fuck you pissed me off.

do not diminish my caring inquiry. do not turn caring and asking into some better politically correct bullshit you should say it this way language. no no no.

I’m here. hello. I’m still here.

Lately, I’ve been turning old nude images of me into art.

i feel rather delighted and proud of them.

and then, i talk myself out of sharing them because

i decide that noone gives a shit.

they don’t want to see my art

they want to see my ass.

i remind myself that i make art not for you

but for me.

but i wish that my art was cherished.

or more so, that i was cherished.

with things pandemic, things art feel like a big thumb squishing my creative mind into the woodwork.

i’m here, hello, I’m still here.

my intimate times with myself are less and less.

and my photographing things intimate

are even less.

but then a moment finds me.

a moment spired usually by some stranger being kind.

and i feel attended to …

for a second.

i’m here. hello. I’m still here.

out of that, my creativity is affirmed.

images like these

which are very me

and very creative

are just a moment in time.

that i give away.

that slips away into internet heaven.

i’m left with

many many strangers

men

and women who

perhaps have a moment of joy.

i should feel satisfied somehow.

i don’t.

this triggers stuff.

emotional stuff.

because that’s what it all is.

one big ball of way too much.

I’m still here. hello. I am here

 

 

 

Isolation

someone spent some time here today. thank you. no comment so, i have no idea who you are just a rather high stat for the weekend.

ran across this recliner image the other day.

it’s NOT the green chair.

this was a free chair – delivered to me. 4 years ago.

it’s since seen better days.

i spend a lot of time in this chair.

while this image sat on my desktop and before i got to writing this post

i thought i’d try and get some self shots in said chair

but with she who chases feet and makes me bleed

under foot all day and night.

well

photography has to be done when she’s asleep.

by then i’m doing something else

because that’s what these days blurred all together are like.

at least spring is very beautiful.

 

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.