Elder Dating

he was a friend of sorts. we met through craigs list, he hired me to photograph him nude in the woods. something on his bucket list. i needed the money. he was a very accomplished mid seventies male who lost a fortune. He was living within his means while he studied for his real estate license. living within his means meant he had a housekeeper, had a rather dandy vehicle, a 500,000 home, and that he travelled. often. it was immediate that i as a woman was not a fit for him. he liked younger, thin, coifed gals. make up, pushed up tits. laughingly and this really stuck with me. when speaking about dating he said…have you seen what woman look like that are my age? when i thought about it…i got what he meant. although I know handfuls of mid seventy women who are wonderful. they are down to earth and outdoorsy. he was not. he had very odd fantasies about humiliation, and asian girls. he brought one of those circumstances to reality with one of his housekeepers. yikes.

we conversed over a cup of coffee/lunch occasionally. he would spend exactly an hour with me, a VERY busy important man and all. and during that time he would pontificate about things trump, while i patiently tried to give a shit about what he said. i didn’t, at all. i had to really bite my tongue. there were times when he asked me how i was and meant it. i enjoyed making him laugh. and the story telling banter was lively. he told me more than once that my life was fascinating. I think he felt sorry for me. I was the sad, tragic and triumphant sort. I knew that someone like me was not a common person in his portfolio of folks. he collected people that he “knew” people that expanded his people horizons, but in times of certain specific need, like when i asked for help, his self importance really got in the way. he sold his pricey house, made a killing actually, and left the state to be closer to family. aging and all. once, while back in town for business….we had lunch. i was “out” with my facial hair. he was horrified by it. visibly uncomfortable. he said, “well, perhaps you could get it trimmed or something.” he then said, ” you realize that you are no longer a catch for any man.” he was one of two who said how facial hair would be the end of me. I left that hour of time with him feeling hurt. It was easy to justify what he said to who he was. Sometimes folks need to have the sense to keep their opinions to themselves. Most like him don’t. Since that circumstance a few men have crossed my path supposedly interested in me. they too sortof balked. like i’ll do you, but I won’t introduce you to any of my friends.  i am saying this thought. they didn’t so much as say but ….i am not stupid.

I bring this up because at almost 60. when it’s an especially bad day…i can feel pretty geriatric. that can’t be very attractive.

found this dress online. got it for $12. in one way the dress is very me. in another way. it’s an old lady dress. ugh

i felt pretty when i took this picture.

 

 

 

Chosen

there is something rather wonderful about being chosen.

200 artists submitted. each were allowed 8 submissions. I sent along 3. I just found out that one of them was selected by the jury. I am in the show. I am in the show!!

i notched up my printing decision on this piece. I chose a small shop local printer that I know will honor my privacy.  I am trying on an art paper that I’ve been curious about.

the price to print went up $6 higher than her original quote.  it’s pricy!

this happened yesterday with another show i am in and a matt quote. I had to pay $9 more. I sortof feel they should honor the former price quote.

I admire those in business for themselves offering specialty services.

It feels good to give them some of my business.

i am just horrified at how much it costs.

The final and MOST amazing layer to all of this is that I had a patron fund this project.

when you take the cost of the print, the frame and matt, and shipping. both ways

plus a gallery take if sold of 50%

it’s hard to really say that a sale is lucrative.

but thanks to the patron’s help.

IF I sell this. the profits will be mine.

I sold once before with this gallery.

which felt amazing.

anyway

here is the piece they chose.

I submitted this as my alter ego.

Opportunities to show nudity don’t come my way that often

but building up my K Smith artist name will be fun!

Just as a side. I am in day 15 of sick. 

 

Flower Power

I dreamt last night that a flower and succulents were growing in my groin.

( how’s that for an opening sentence?)

there was a single flower, short stemmed with a blue crocus like blossom – it’s center was yellow and button like. it’s petals fat and juicy, much  like that of an engorged jade. it looked like a pussy.

next to the flower there a large cluster of pure white plants. each had three small leaves. unlike most succulents they were soft to the touch. almost mossy.

all of this was nestled in the spread of my legs. specifically, in the crease on my right side

WTF

the examination room was huge. pure white. gleaming, with tile floor to ceiling. the room was brightly lit. i was drenched in white light. they guided me to an oversized rocking chair. the doctor, garbed in all white adorned a lamp of sorts on its head. all I could see was the Dr’s eyes.

i showed the Dr my flower power

armed with oversized tweezers, the removal of the flower revealed very short roots.

the succulent removal was trickier. the individual  leaves would pop and their juice would burn me.

the dr was very careful.

once all was removed

my wounds were treated.

at one point i thought the Dr might have been my mother.

but there was no vibe of judgement.

later, i saw that the Dr was a man.

with a mustache and a warm smile.

noone spoke.

( take in 2011. when i had way more hair )

 

 

I Thought

july was quite the month.

like intense.

i don’t realize how until i went back and looke at my image narrative.

i am often too hyper focused on the now.

i thought perhaps i didn’t get all that nude

just because of the emotional nuances of it all

but i guess i did.

i lost 7 lbs  in 8 weeks

( did i say this already? ugh )

12 lbs over the past year.

some nice improvements to my blood work.

which means good work. continue doing what you are doing

i hurt my knee.

met an absolute asshat doc about that

made my gp doc laugh like heck when i called that dude an asshole.

i am taking a vacation

trying hard to feel i deserve it

but all the stars have really aligned.

i might even feel relaxed

i am fighting a fungal thing

think jock itch but for lady bits

the tissue is angry and not responding.

there is apparently the beginnings of

atrophy.

a-t-r-o-p-h-y

here that gents??

when ya don’t use your parts

they wither.

wrinkle

disappear

and die.

as much as i self touch

i sortof hoped i could bypass atrophy

but the way i do the change of life

none of the maladies associated with it will bypass me

nope

miserable as fuck menopause they should call it.

if it gets to where sex hurts.

i might have to just not.

and right now.

if you wanted me? like in real life

i’d have to say that I couldn’t.

and in this moment. in my writing that very thought.

that breaks my spirit immensely.

which brings me to a memory.

when my second marriage was ending

he, an older man. had performing issues.

we may have been separated even.

funny how sex still occurs in troubled times

don’t you think ??

a gal i know as a gag

gave me my first vibrator

i was in my late 40’s

i didn’t quite get the appeal of them at the time

suffice to say it was something i had to get use to

to practice with.

i remember showing it to him and he was very angry about it. like pissed off.

after a failed bit of lovemaking he said something like

oh why don’t you just go do yourself

and i was really hurt.

i then said, hey wait a sec….as long as we are a couple and sexual

doesn’t aging shift the game??

like in general… don’t couples who age together find new ways to make love ?

i am not interested in masturbating when the real thing can happened between two.

the truth later revealed was that he wasn’t attracted to me any longer

and that whatever sex was attempted was pity sex ( first time i heard that phrase. lovely )

and that he really wasn’t vested in figuring it all out.

so a big fat whatever.

it felt so hopeless.

after that —early match.com years

boy there were a lot of creeps out there.

i hear that woman are equally as creepy as men in online dating

what does that mean?

is it them?

is it the platform?

is it the world?

how does remarkable couple karma happen with so many others?

will i really die alone here???

later —- when i was better at masturbating

i did introduce toys to certain equations.

meaning with a compassionate partner

who wasn’t expectant

a giving thing.

and sometimes that was very exciting for both.

all i can say is i guess you just figure it out as you go.

And Such

i might find myself uh, on my back and such.

playing accordingly.

with a toy, or a mr wand and such.

and she joins in. ( third time now )

perhaps i become a little breathless or i’ve let out a moan or two. or three

she finds her way onto my chest

while i am sortof busy and such

and mink minks at me.

and then she just settles herself on my chest.

which if I can say sortof changes the mood and such.

i mean look at that face.

what a riot.

 

We Depend On It

here we go

i was without power this morning

i was reworking an artist statement for an art call so that worked to my advantage

no distractions,

at least until the battery ran out on my lap top.

universe. don’t fail me now. this computer is my lifeline.

I couldn’t cook, or do laundry or use the elevator or do other electricity dependent things.  ( wink )

once the electricity was back

FB and IG was all ( and still is ) all wiggy

The entire world is experiencing an imageless problematic FB

the WORLD!!

I admit – I don’t really know how to do things in my life — without it. which in itself, when you actually think about it. FB, my lap-top and wi-fi are my game — they are how i do my gig.

it’s a long summer holiday weekend.

i have layers on. + socks. yup. socks!

it’s super empty fridge club

like. seriously seriously eeking it.

if i can get 3 days out of what’s left

i will have made this month work for me.

it will be an accomplishment.

the eggs are gone. one more serving of cashew butter

but there are multiple meals out of what IS left.

that’s what matters.

i realize how i do my life is really unusual or hard to understand for some.

pretty sure in comparison

not many of you have faced some of my personal strife.

i still have my wits about me. what is left of my beloved personal belongings plus a very  safe, private haven that I call my home. my city studio.  I have a vehicle that makes me feel like a queen. she needs front brake work, but we are not in crisis. i repeat. not a crisis. simply a pricey thing on the to do list.  hopefully by the fall i can get that cash together.

i was thinking about the first summer of my first divorce. bear with me. this is a loaded memory — Kids were age 6 and 9. i moved them from what they knew to a community that i felt was better for them school wise. and to this day – my decision to do that really really paid off.  They had such a dynamic academic upbringing because of it. I was however in WAY over my head. I tried to go back to waitressing. and perhaps i shared this before – my work resume isn’t particularly profound. i was a super sucky student, waitress, wife, mom, single mom, momentary waitress, entrepreneur, wife again,single, empty nest artist. that’s me in a nut shell. when i was a single mom and scrambling for work. the details of managing kids, schedules, after school care, runny noses etc about did me in. Gotta love my boss. I still see his face when i said to him. I do not know how to be your loyal employee and be the mom i must be all in the same breath. I will choose them before I choose a shift at work. If they need me – I’m there. He didn’t like hearing that but he said – I value your honesty. I wish things were better for you. You will probably not make it here. I was not fired thankfully. Eventually my hands gave out on me. I had to leave that work for medical reasons.

So then, we all have a summer that is pending. Our first as a divorced family. Summer to a now single working mom means a solid 12 weeks of kids at home. TWELVE WEEKS. Can you say shoot me now?? I reached out to said ex to discuss summer and co-parenting. He tells me – i don’t do additional parenting. I work. he said. ( as if i didn’t – the asshat of a fuckwad ) it was the way he said it. so so so so very arrogant. not the first time he said it either.  The man took a summer vacation each year. he mooched that vacation off of his parents. and he did that during our married years. and he did that for all those years following. two weeks. The REST was up to me. period. My attorney failed me there. I’ll say that. I did take 10% of every single dollar I ever made moving forward into what I called the summer envelope.  I provided the best summers ever to those two for 15 years!!  I did that and I managed a fees, and supplies, and hair cuts and new shoes for back to school envelope. That man not once offered to help financially. ALL of it was on me. Do you have any idea how expensive summer is? or back to school?? Did I mention that he got his income down to poverty ( on purpose ) so that he only had to pay support on that dollar amount. 25% of poverty isn’t a whole lot of child support.  I don’t regret what I was able to provide for them. I did it. I did it on my own. I found a way. I loved it. But sometimes it just wasn’t easy. I lost a good chunk of myself during those times. I forgot to provide summer for myself. To this day I don’t think i really have fun anymore.

The other thing on my mind is how many millions of times I moved during this long summer weekend — grateful of course for long weekends and all but memory spiraling as all get. 2 years ago, by the skin of my teeth — i left country studio. the loft story began a new chapter in apartment security hell. that was the most odd space i’ve ever lived in – does anyone even care about these damn stories of mine??

i love these as visual essay. memory provoking – cement floors, dirty feet, weird light, 4 ft by 10 ft screens, and mirrors by the bed. not an ounce of sex graced these living spaces friends. natta none no sex

i will also say – all of this, and what i got to the other side of had not hit me yet.  NOT like last summer did. not over the head. broken. not like where did i go hit me …

 

Gifted

i added a second pair of the stiff rocker bottom style of shoes to my collection.

phase two of the get me back on my feet project

These are called recovery sandals. The immediate feel of them is super squishy cozy. The funds for these and these light compression socks were a gift. A treasured gesture. Thank you. Thank you dear.

these socks fit snug, and they are right and left foot designated – what an idea!

are you familiar with these brands??

the saga of my feet is simply that.

i have been told my whole life that in later years my feet were going to be an issue

here we are.

This year I finally got back into shoes after 3 years without

YEARS

can you say dork toe socks and not good for my feet fit flops. UGH

i didn’t know about how bad fit flops were

they were what worked

when shoes failed me.

the stiff rocker bottom style of shoe

is supposed to help the bone spur

the shoes, also a gift

are from another generous person

many appointments and adjustments later

they are at least something on my feet that do not cause me pain.

for a few hours anyway.

sigh

i realize this post doesn’t involve nudity

i just wanted to be sure to say thank you,

even though this has been a long term project

it’s getting somewhere