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)

 

 

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. ) 

 

 

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

 

 

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.