Uneventful Yet Lovely

my birthday was rather uneventful. mostly self realized. yet lovely.  the right people made the right gestures. as did some folks I never hear from. which I think is rather nice.

i asked for things i wouldn’t normally buy for myself, and got a few of them. enough to feel an indulgence. all in all. it was a very nice day. i got myself a piece of mocha chocolate cake that had me moaning – that’s the purpose of a good piece of cake. yes? . i was gifted a volume of onions and garlic that had me decide to make myself a french onion soup. good bread, cheese and wine must accompany. I got a local cheese and bread. I wish i could do that more often. Buy from food artisans. Alas. Not on my budget.

I invited a few to share in this bday meal with me, but after the third no. I gave up. Not because folks have other plans on a week night. More so. I didn’t feel like the kerplunk of another no was very celebratory.

a few birthday wishes from here found me. thank you for that.

there was the good company of my cat.

some of you don’t really give a shit about my cat.

but that’s your problem.

she’s been a source of a lot of laughter for me

and more cuddles than i’ve known from a human in some time.

she smells good and vibrates.

i am tired.

sometimes that tired

takes me to numb.


How To

its been an inside my head couple of days.

a gal friend stopped over. she brought me fresh eggs. i find them so beautiful. it makes me want to cry. and their yolk color. oh my gosh. the richest yellow ever

we had a good long gab, artist to artist about a collaborative. putting that idea into action, 5 collages flew out of me the following morning. they were prompt driven and each spoke it’s own truth. this examples a trust in the process. this makes me feel knowing. I like that.

i have been having a good talk with myself about how to know me.

there is this classic diagram about that inner circle thing.

the very very small percentage of those who’ve got your back

vs the volume of people you might know.

I have been trying to be the square peg in a round hole for a very long time

but i have not made sense of it all.

lately i feel like i want to know.

i have said this before here. just because you know me here

does not mean you know me. the me of me. the person. the inside out stuff.

i have grappled with how to change that.

i have been asking why is it now that i am older, that i meet way more wounded, guarded broken sorts — more than i ever use to before. is it age? is it me? is it normal?

the other day – a gal in my community admitted that she was a fan of my work, and curious to know me but she was embarrassed to hang out with me because of my face.  Thoughts/feelings she’s completely allowed to have.

Another person that I observe and am a fan of who has facial hair like I do went to a family reunion and she shaved her face. Her comments about that were to honor her parents and to choose her battles. her choice was respect for herself. that the beard didn’t define her. I liked what she did for her family. Would I do that?

This had me feel two things. 1. bravery about having female facial hair is not only mine. others have to be brave too  2. how many stay away because of those same embarrassed feelings.

There are fans here at anonymously nude that love hair. yet they love it selectively. the love of hair is what spired my first layer of hirsute freedom. a very liberating thing for me. my fans here – people i will never really know got me to that liberated place. thank you.  however anonymous — they. you are. you will likely always be at a distance. not inner circle. this begs the question. if i was your neighbor would we be friends?? I just wonder.

i have decided that i am not easy to be friends with. this is something i take responsibility for. I say this not to be all super unique, special or different. I say this from a place of ache, a desire for understanding. to be understood. it’s been there. my entire life.

lately — i’ve REALLY wanted to explain this.

and i get here. to the part where I have guidelines to perhaps offer

and I wonder why is it all so f-ing complicated.

i am stopped.

there are two men that i do not know personally. but I know.

their appearance, their take on their every day life, their sweetness just gets to me.

over the years — yes years ….as they have become men, stronger more defined men – i have come to admire them immensely. i really like these men. they make me feel, they make me smile, and they have these huge hearts.  I want them in my hip pocket. I want them to like me.

and, the great thing is they do. in their own way. at a distance from their busy lives.

do i ask for that in the man of my dreams. is my woman crush of these persons hindering me ??

I don’t know many folks that I can sit down and talk about this stuff with

so i blurt it here to make sense of it.

mr helicopter pilot said people are not hot fudge sundaes – people are people. you can’t choose the ice cream flavors, and/or pass on the cherry on top. just enjoy the damn hot fudge sundae. we laughed about that.

later he said i wasn’t a fit for him.

and I wasn’t.

and if i was, he would have had to have been a different sort of person to get to that.

perhaps thats a lot to ask.


these eggs are calling me. i am hungry.

I am sure I will find expound on this topic later.

On The 11th

In 2011 — 8 years ago.

I was producing some pretty erotic imagery.

Things I’ve never posted before.

Masturbating images.

Very provocative.

In those photos I show detail of my anatomy.

I also show more images with toys.

some seriously sexy shit.

I didn’t post them because quite honestly

those felt private to me.

like if i posted those

i’d have given away my soul.

At the time

quite a few men were

paying attention to me.

I felt rather dynamic.

pretty even.

I liked the attention.

and that attention was arousing.

it showed up in my photography.

I have always thought

i’d sell those more erotic photographs.

with anonymously nude already having a nude presence online

the extra would have made for a nice income stream for me

and a much needed one at that.

there were a few trysts that came of this attention

I got to meet a local who had interest in nude photography

but nothing came of it.

it was actually a very sexual year that 2011.

i am pretty sure I can’t sit like this any longer.

since the occasion to do so

has now been forever ago now.

i’ve lost a lot of my flexibility.

perhaps you were more limber 8 years ago??

i can’t say i feel particularly pretty these days.

there just isn’t the same sort of attention finding me

like in 2011.

8 years ago.

I wish I could sell some of that imagery now.

someone collecting my parts

my naughty bits

my self discovery.

it was all so new to me then



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.


A Little Whiney

feeling a little whiney.

it’s empty fridge club

my bralette doesn’t fit quite right

car issues are fixed but more is needed.

if i sell 6 pieces of art that should do it.

nude photography

or panty sales could help too.

however minor that “ding ding ding ding” was….its persistence was enough to push me over the edge.

did i tell you Kimberly has 260K miles??

i thought betty blue was old at 100K. She and I got there together,

my face beard throws it’s own shadow. ha!

i put my nightgown on backwards and didn’t notice until i took a picture of my braid

sometimes things are a blur

sometimes the clouds are wispy

i love how she looks at me.

its been a long while that a person looked at me

looked at me in a way that sortof matters.

what about more than sortof?

perhaps that’s a better thought.

i need a hair cut.

long summer holiday weekends

with the holiday on a thursday

makes for one confusing summer week.

i did not eek to my june month end

i have three openings this weekend. THREE

i was juried into an art show that has a cash prize

perhaps i will win.

I got the ok to submit to another show and they waived the fee

i dream of being an artist full time and having it provide for me.

i am not sure how that will happen truthfully

but i’ve made declarations before

and they find their way.

plus the ideas are pouring out of me

lastly – i was reminded that it was two years ago that i finally got away from that country studio

holy crap those days were intense

I Knew

june 2015

found me today in my memories.

we know.

we just know.

we know that when we are with someone

and we know when that something that was once had

is now gone.

ya just know.

it takes something

to get past that

break of trust

or that feeling

of wrong,

it takes something to actually get back to the what.

the what that had you together in the first place

takes something.

if you have a vested interest that is.

i know exactly when all of this fell apart

there wasn’t a damn thing i could do about it.

i realize i repeat myself.

i know that the stories you may take time to read today

may be a story you’ve heard once before

or perhaps more.

i apologize for the repeat.

my mind just goes there sometimes.

history. repeat. repeat. repeat

two ways to take these moments on

openly. and as a whole being.

the past is now long gone.

or one could recall it and be wounded.

like it hurt.

i did a mini survey this morning in relationship to tarot.

the moon and the hermit

are important cards for me.

the immediate meanings.

mean something.

a hermit is …according to….

where if i look at things as a whole

the hermit in me was very very self protective

self preserving.

self love.

because noone was there for a super long time.

someone had to do it.

here in the cave?

i knew when he left the equation.

i was more alone with him than apart.

hate that.

summer makes me think of sun poisoning

mosquito bites

and gin.

and ice


under the covers sex

because he liked air conditioning.

none of that happening here.

none of that happening now.


Did They Love You?

did you have a home?

a home with a mom and a dad? 

did they love you?

she asked. 

i bet many can reply yes to that question.

I think as my parents first born that i will always have the newness and novelty of those early years

but when life got real.

they both checked out of the love equation.

i was 5.

I never should have had you kids he once said.

additional and not so loving commentary echo within my emotional brain.

i had my reckoning with ideas of him in the late 90’s

she said,  you love your father.

i thought surely i can find the loving moments.

i had been telling the stories of the bad times.

she said,  remember the love and hold onto that — that’s what is best to heal from.

good advice.

i did that.

sometimes though …

i don’t.

a trigger like fathers day or something else might get to me.

and then i go there. i go to the he doesn’t love me place.

and feel like a shit.

this is ALL on my mind right now because this week was a transition week for me.

making work space here i stumbled upon this book.

wait, let me step back ….

the ebb and flow of an artists life is that you build an emotional momentum to the launch of an exhibit. and then it ends. your heart and soul becomes yesterday’s news. when one creative door closes another opens. yet there is always this feeling. oh, it’s over now. kerplunk. anti-climactic. 

the “bottom fell out” feeling doesn’t last, but that always there part is something you have to get to the other side of. i am good at it. it’s the nature of what i do

a year ago my art life had a transition. i reached a point of feeling almost buried alive in art work. i shifted direction to a learning phase and got excited. i began stitching.

metaphorically the zag and zig was a lot like me – i was piecing myself together again.

i like the way it feels to stitch this way. the way i feel knowing i could be less broken somehow. scarred but together vs in pieces lying on the floor

the last few days i cleared/rearranged two surfaces. making room for two shows that were coming down. one rather large show. AND i was making what’s next decisions

ideas. so many ideas.

is that what clean dishes and a making a bed are for?

a putting of things in their place?? a sense of order?

a clearing of the mind?

as I mentioned before – i found this book.

it’s something that made the shelf of my now small collection

but a book that i’d not entirely read.

I am in this book. as a subject. ME!

the chapter i am in is titled. shame. the hole in wholeness.

the book is about passion.

i was interviewed at the age of 53. 2013

those are the early years of my work here at AN.

my self love work.

the book is 466 pages long and rather heady.

to me, heady means over my head cerebral. the sortof book that would take me a lifetime to relate to and understand all of it’s bibliography. a smarty pants read.

to the authors admirable merit. he brings history, art, science, psychology and philosophy into the context of it’s chapters.

the chapter that has me in it, was one of many he interviewed who rediscovered or reignited passion in their lives.

i sat with this chapter again. and took some notes, and those thoughts are on my mind.

i have to consider that i did not assimilate my part of the book to it’s entirety.

i never read the whole thing.

by the time i bought it.

i was losing my home

there was that space of time gone by called mr cowboy.


am i really a passionate being?

he writes, passion is our eagerness for union. life altering and unorthodox explorations of the holes in our soul.

he said i had something called dysmorphia or an unhealthy preoccupation with body flaws.  i am not sure how obsessed i was with what was wrong with my body.

i did find that the looking through a camera lens offered a different perspective. my personal perspective didn’t see the same beauty. 

going back into some of my personal history. anything that had to do with my personal sexuality, was always put in it’s place.


he described it as toxic shame. our very being is toxic at it’s core. it’s wrong. we are fundamentally flawed. this cripples our ability to affirm ourselves.

this limits our ability to engage with another intimately. we fear that in doing so — the other may see our flaws. 

i akin this thought now with aging. when you get to this part of your life. the emotional deck of cards is stacked against you. there are just too many to lay out on the table.

i wear my life on my sleeve. faults and all. i guess i feel weary of trying to make sense of it all.

shame he says, makes us cringe. shame leaves footprints on our lives.

if you take the above back to my childhood words like criticism, contempt, abuse, neglect ridicule, hostility, public humiliation, emotional rigidity were mentioned. all stem from shame.

he felt i came to terms with my shame by self-portraiture

i said, the camera is much more confident than I am

i asked, where have “I” been all my life?

further i shared, I strive in my life to be cherished.

my personal million dollar statement.

isn’t it weird to read the words you have said with others thoughts and impressions wrapped around them ?

my entire self preserving methodology is to garner attention to find cherish for myself.

to reassure the myself, i and me in the equation.

i said, self esteem isn’t necessarily an inside job. it can get a serious boost from external validation. 

there were times during my blog years here were i felt brazen, bold and proud.

i had surpassed shame.

it’s brilliant

I did that with the help of all of you!!

Without the audience here, my strength in self would have lost its way.

One other layer to all of the above. this was not part of the book. more so i think of part of what keeps me sane …is social phobia, agoraphobic or introversion

i think at many levels i’ve had socially awkward going for me my entire life.

i could make a very good list about all of that.

its not just recent times and trauma that make covet safety from my home.

it’s the way i am.

it protects me.

image 4 skin wattle. what a word. wtf.