It’s Not Like It Use To Be

took a nap yesterday. very occasionally i simply need to do that. when I do, i usually sleep but good. like out cold. yesterday, the cat was pacing herself around me, trying to get me out of bed i guess. I knew her presence somehow. it was like napping with one eye open – I thought at some level she doesn’t know what is going on, but sleeping was way more valuable to me then her. she did settle in at some point. purring at the nook of my legs behind my knee.

i dreamt about a swimming pool full of cats, they were floating on their backs. sunning themselves. all of them had massive human hard ons. the dream shifted from the bright sun, brilliant blue of the pool and wet cat fur….to one of cartoon renderings. Thats when the male anatomy showed up. exaggerated and absolutely ridiculous.  and of course, rather inviting. i am sure one can analyze the heck out of the subconscious reveal of that one.

I stumbled upon this retro hairy capture.  back in the day when i let the hair on my legs and my armpits grow out. there was a lot of hair. it was dark, long and there was plenty of it. sharing that growth with all of you got me a great amount of attention. NOW though – it’s just not like it use to be.  the hair that use to be between my breasts is completely gone, the armpit and leg hair has thinned out, gotten white, there is a lot less of all of it. my pussy hair is almost all white. more course, and less dense. I then have this ridiculous volume of hair on my face. which most men/women admire for my courage of sporting it. but are not particularly attracted to. that disdain happen when i had hairy legs and armpits — unless one had a fetish for it.  I suppose my current hairy presentation would be like a bald man with a hairy chest or something.  The hair on my head is the longest it’s every been. About a foot now past shoulder length.

a lot of my fans think of me back in the day.

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.

 

 

 

my youngest graduated college that weekend. spring 2012. helping her pack and moving her out of her house she said hey mom – this top might fit you. it didn’t, but i really liked the pattern, and the style. i had just scored lightroom software at a really low cost. for those who know my work before and then after. the software defined me artistically. game changer. plus i could now watermark my work. its one thing to have the nest empty when they go to school, but here i was. facing more reality. this gal had a life and it didn’t include me. i think i could do an entire series with imagery like this, a blur. Life is a blur

it’s already 2/19 – didn’t we just ring in the new year??

the gallery in Chicago is going to print my corset image. i get printing at cost prices. it will be a glossy 16×20 – they are throwing the frame in for free. I am beside myself at how cool this is. wow !! before i had to bring art paper to the photo shop/wait to two days for the print go back to pick it up. sign my piece and assemble, the print, matt and frame. wire the frame for hanging. wrap the piece for mailing. score a box either for free in the trash or get one at another trip out to the PO. all of which is a lot of effort. and expense.

For this print – All i had to do was send a quality file. more wow. I think the piece will sell.

I sold a collage today. it was an immediate sale after posting it on social media – poof – gone. Just like the heart photo last week. and another collage. one might think i am an artist or something. I answered another call for art. the gallery offered the same printing opportunity. what the heck!! I am thinking perhaps something on glass.

tech question. if i move my iphoto’s. like the entire portfolio onto an external hard drive. to make additional room on my image crowded lap top, will i lose my organizing efforts? what will the files look like?? i have them organized by events. or folders. am i going to have a mess on my hands trying to find my files??

anyone got access to apple products? specifically the old style macbook pro? the kind that you can run a disc in ??? or add an additional hard drive to ??? NOT kidding, re: as an ask.  I’d love to buy a new old style mac. this one is 10 years old. it still works like a charm. but i need to prepare for what in inevitable. i am hearing terrible things about the newer apple products.

 

Once Upon A Time There Was A Story

my art is narrative.

my photography and art making are story telling.

i am a gifted visual artist

I have a way with words

so i am told.

to tell the story that is now. i find myself tongue tied.

like perhaps the tale is not particularly pretty or sexy or erotic, or that there isn’t much of a story to tell, or that i am a downer.

thats a lot of “or”

i know i am downer, who am i fooling

i still get private messages that are kind, or playful, or a gift, or someone will encourages me, or my blog gets high traffic like today. ( woot )

i could think that happens because I am loved.

and that’s pretty wonderful.

the reality is most who come here have lives and commitments that do not include me.

vested interests are elsewhere.

i am pretty sure many who come here are simply looking to whack off.

but hey, if you are seeking something other than that.

i might want to know.

which gets me to the point of this post.

what makes the image posted below a delicious visual story?

this is a very beautiful, very “me” capture.

this image is what makes this blog. what made this blog?

( image by K Smith for anonymously nude )

this was taken on a crisp sunny bright winter late afternoon. near valentines day.  2011.  My hair is almost all silver now. geeesh. i had just completed an email exchange with a consistent and attentive male. after the email i felt aroused. not all fans arouse me. i have to feel a trust somehow. i have to be attracted to that person. chemistry plays a role. even in a virtual way

consistent because he was there, day in day out. attentive in that he paid attention to the details. he remembered the little things. he paid attention to the me in the equation. he knew what to say.

i took this image because i felt i had a valentine. it was fantasy, but in that moment. I was his and He was mine.

this man was married, a father, an employee at a corporate job, yet he found a way to have time for me, to validate me. the word validate is the difference between the very hot sexy excited me then, and the broken me now.

one can not look this way ( or like this image ) alone. this image is the product of two.

i don’t subscribe to the you don’t need someone else to validate you …just validate yourself!!

bullshit.

i am better when i have someone paying attention to me.

an erotic capture like the above?

takes two.

now, as the story goes

i no longer held the sexual attention of this man,

he was there for the arousal

he had needs that i was not willing to provide.

i could never really have him. loyal that he was to his marriage.

we both felt frustrated.

i was there for the kindness. i was there for the attention.

perhaps i didn’t mind the bit of self touch

on the side.

there is of course way more to the story, and the volume of them from that time.

NINE years ago.

THIS narrative however is an OLD story.

i don’t look like this now.

self touch was brand new then.

now, masturbation is pretty down and dirty.

i self love to get a desperate release.

it’s not particularly fun anymore

the attention/validation person/s

is/are long gone now.

i am different now.

there is no two to the equation.

i am not willing to play that way now.

all of it is rather sad.

don’t ya think??

I’m sorry.

i will visually share the bright and shiny old me

so as to not disappoint you with the now me.

i say this not for self pity.

OK?

i am trying to find the words

that describe what’s different.

who i am now

is not who I was then.

i think the images do it better than I do.

not sure who i am right now.

that might be the truth right there.

( images by K Smith for anonymously nude )

P.S. Sold this heart photograph yesterday. Just in time for Valentines Day. May  yours be filled with love.

IMG_7430

 

 

 

ZERO

a year ago. i brought my cat home from the humane society.

she’s an interesting creature and we’ve come a long way together.

i can’t remember life without her. I took over 600 images of her in 2019.

folks here don’t seem to care much about her.

which is fine.

crazy cat lady is probably not very alluring.

in the beginning, i described having her like looking in the mirror.

she was/is as skiddish as I.

she was supposed to be pet therapy.

instead we had to figure out how to get along.

a lesson one can definitely learn from.

2019 was a high anxiety year for me.

i was looking at images from a year ago and we had a bright sunny january.

not this year. way way more wintery. bleak. dim, as a good friend of mine says.

i don’t mind the dim. i am lucky that way. i love being at home.

at this time of year my envelopes are almost all empty.

ZERO.

this makes me anxious.

there are many ways to manage a financial  life.

i function penny to penny.

month to month.

when there is something extra.

like from the sale of art.

or a gift.

my policy. or the way i manage is

that cash goes into envelopes.

my larger bills all land around this time of year.

the vet visit, the car tag, an oil change, the dentist, the fees for my websites, holiday mailing, cat supplies etc…

THIS year, for the first time in quite awhile the envelopes were full. fat. and ready

I now have to rebuild them again for next year

but for the sake of personal satisfaction

and pride.

firstly…I DID IT.

and secondly.

i can do it again.

a good feeling.

My art opening in Chicago is tonight. Perhaps I will sell that photograph???

THANK YOU to those of you who send me something from time to time.

where does the love go.

this is a rather random commentary.  it may be how 2020 blog posts go as i really have no direction at the moment. 

I ran into a former person that i once knew on twitter.

i don’t hang at twitter exactly but i have auto feeds there and i forget.

i went there because i  wondered if i c/should develop a feed for my alter ego artist self there. i don’t want things alter ego to mesh with my me world. i am sure that i am naive to think that they don’t already mesh but…

the twitter person mentioned dumped me and a project we had steeped in for a year because of my facial hair and beard.

“the project is over. i want nothing to do with you – don’t expect anyone to take you seriously with that hair on your face.” 

ouch

this was written via an email on christmas after generously gifting me two bags of food just earlier in the day.

more ouch.

never heard from the person again. POOF.

this person was a serious fan of my writing and my photography since 2007. a HUGE, encouraging, absolutely adoring fan. we met for the first time in 2015. 

I won’t go into ALL the details of the year we worked together. I will say this… that person took me on like a pet, a poor/struggling pet who “needed”  help. that persons truth. not mine. someone who takes on a person as philanthropic good. I can bypass someone thinking less of me when there is a creative opportunity at hand. I also am willing to give a new friendship a try but i am also adult enough to know that folks who are new to my life may not become my next best friend — that’s how I felt about the circumstance. as time went on. this person had some serious issues. my largest complaint was how this person treated people that were supposed to be family. life partners. I never witnessed someone so verbally critical and cruel. like wince material. the spouse would cower. the spouse would hide. not kidding. add a drinking problem to all of that.

“we need to stop working now. i need to drink.”

I scroll this persons twitter feed.  IT WAS UGLY. Political and .fanatic zeal at a very high pitch. evangelical almost. stuff that that would make anyone run. How can such drama and rant beget any respect or credibility? all it did for me is have me shake my head. 

and then, i thought. where does the love go.

and then, i started to think of all the folks who have dumped me.

and then, more thoughts  …where does the love go. 

of course i then found myself upset

i have two marriages behind me. lost mr’s, the lying/dumping of mr cowboy and folks in recent years. perhaps thats true for most. as they say people come and go in our lives. in my family folks left as early as age 5.

do i feel love for them? those gone?

i do not. 

i recall the beginnings of all that love. all of it

i know exactly when the love for them left my heart.

the thing is with so many

i don’t know WHY the love left THEIR hearts.

I feel hurt. 

I know in my past i have tried when i can to find closure

why isn’t closure important to others?

earlier this year i read a book. 

i am pretty sure i wrote about it. 

the book i read was about depression.

not a topic i read about regularly. 

not that i am not curious but with times of anxiety at the tip of my tongue sometimes

it’s not what i feel a wondering about.

this book shifted that for me. it made my troubles seem insignificant by comparison.

this person is clinically depressed, medicated and wants to die. she made fun of this desire to die with such ease that the deep deep despair was actually very funny. she made me laugh. the book was fascinating and alarming. this person is a real handful. imagine celebrity status. imagine a book that makes a difference for many, profoundly actually. impressive, and important. depression is so real for so many.  The book launch passes by. life continues to happens and this person shares it and all the details on social media. the content is nuts. off the wall crazy. i think to myself, wow this person is a total nutcase and people love her. epic, complicated, hurtful, train wreck lunatic, and there is this entourage of people around her. always. they love her.

so then i wonder where does the love go. for me. 

and then, i feel sorry for myself. and start wondering if i could have done something differently.  that’s a pretty one sided conversation. where does the love go. where does the like go. where do people go when they leave, do they ever wonder how i am ????? does it matter that i wonder about them?

image taken eleven years ago.

 

 

 

Sameness

sometimes a blog post topic/idea will circle the drain of my brain and write and write and write itself into my subconscious mind. this is one of those topics. 

each night before i go to sleep i hear the crunching of my cat having a little midnight snack. every single night. i sometimes find myself smiling.  as a little girl my mother would have her bath. the sound of water filling the tub was what I fell asleep to.

i never thought about routine and the sameness of it. i just lived it. we all do.we all have the way we do things. i never bothered to observe my sameness.

oblivious.

last year was the year of boundaries for me. big, deep, emotional, NO – i don’t think so boundaries. those choices may have isolated me even more in my already I am really alone in the world

that said, i just wrote about my year 2019 in review and i gotta tell ya

for a socially phobic, almost 60, poor, bearded creative

i am one up to something lonely person.

perhaps when all is said.

what i do in the sameness of it all

besides being THE vehicle for coping.

perhaps it’s the fuel i thrive on.

give me my space.

understand me.

when I divorced my first husband i was in a transition phase of my life. i went from wife and mom to single mother and self employed. my idea of the world/persons reliable completely shattered. 18 years in, i lost the man i thought was my life partner, and the family i had become a part of – they, his siblings etc were very mean to me in the end.

the phrase its up to me, its up to me, its up to me. rattled inside my brain. i had two little ones that counted on me in an everything sortof way. i cant say this felt like burden, it never did. more so it felt like an i’ve got this, but a lot like holy shit.

i was introduced to a technique called the week at a glance.  it was about creating your perfect day. i am not about creating a perfect anything. perfect is really not the word i mean. more so it’s how to create a day or a week that works for me.  i took this technique on with great earnest and sincerity. i utilize this premise even now.

it’s about your day to day and how one can manage it. it’s not about what others expect, although for some life circumstances it is. it’s about what you want. out of each and every day of the week.

with that technique comes rules. MY rules. Back then it’s how i organized my family life, my in home business life. it’s how i made sense of it all somehow. my kids really took to it. and later when they got older they applied the same technique to fuller personal schedules. a life skill.

some of my rules today make me laugh. these few in particular amuse others.

  1. i dont do mornings.
  2. i dont do mondays
  3. i brunch.

some call them quirks.

there are so many.

recently i spoke with the owner of a gift shop. he shared a story about his bar stool. the place he sat. every single night for over 20 years. a bit i guess like the tv show cheers. while the neighborhood pub has its charm. only before marriage did i ever frequent one. i take that back. i did go on friday nights to a bar during my first divorce. briefly. i enjoyed that actually. in current times though?? i don’t frequent anywhere. ever. regularly. except for galleries and the burger place i go to twice a year when I trek to the dentist. i want to be a local consumer. a treasured customer. a loyal sort. but i don’t get out that much. this last year i got to evaluate why.

this shop owner shared that he had quit his bar stool. not for the sake of sobriety. but more so for the time in the evenings he missed for other things. reading, chores, creative endeavors. he said he wasted those years on that bar stool. he defined himself by that stool. and lost himself to the blur of cocktails every night. he did decide not to drink. he said it was to let go of the habit of it not because it was a problem. to me, if someone drinks every single day. that’s more than a habit. don’t get me wrong. not judging. i love drinking, i just don’t live to drink. i like it socially. its entertaining. i think i had something to drink last around christmas.

which brings me back to sameness. i have plenty of sameness

we are all perhaps

predictable

ordinary

when we co-mingle it – it gets so very complicated.  would you agree? the older i get, the more set in my sameness i become. and i don’t fucking care either.

( image set is from JAN 2015) 

i was losing my home, purging my belongings at a high pitch, i was seeing mr cowboy and preparing to move in with him. sigh. i did have a rather adventurous nude photography show at a gallery that month. and took an image enroute to that show that later would be the most expensive photograph i’ve ever sold. i also did some project work with a food truck.