Leaning Tower Of Couch

how are you doing during this time of coronavirus?

i mean it. are you ok. are those you care about ok? what part of the world are you in and what are you observing ?

in the states its predicted that this week the virus will express itself and multiply

where i live. as of today it’s officially 2 weeks of lock down.

my chair is broken.

happened a few days ago

it’s a rocking recliner.

i got it for free.

if i am not sitting in it. it rocks

but while i am in it or leaning forward it just goes flat.

what is that mechanism….a spring gone bad??

is it fixable?

it now has sortof a permanent forward lean. UGH

i can use the ottoman to leverage it back but i don’t always sit that way

the leaning forward reminds me of this insane story, that i thought would amuse you.

i use to own a three flat. the basement had a one bedroom apartment.

the basement also had a storage and laundry room

the door to get into the basement apartment was on the way to the laundry room.

i rented to a young couple once. they both were employed as security guards/ they had longevity in their jobs. references were all positive. both were short/ heavy set folks

they move in.

once settled – outside their apartment door, stacked ever so neatly were cases of jumbo size canned ravioli. chef boyardee. yup, the good stuff

just inside the door was their couch. it’s two front legs were missing

leaning tower of couch

to prop said couch they used

you guessed it

jumbo cans of chef boyardee ravioli.

said couple use to leave their door open.

They would sit on propped couch. NAKED while watching TV

and eating…. wait for it,

chef boyardee ravioli out of the jumbo can. OUT OF THE CAN

I’d go downstairs to put a load of laundry into the dryer

and there they were.


as time progressed. ravioli eating naked tenants on leaning tower of couch were home all the time.

i would hear this pop song. it would play over and over and over

something about making babies or all i want to do is be your baby or some bubble gum obnoxious lyric

from the sounds that were coming from said basement.

i’d say they were making a baby. or two or three or whatever.

i had a one year old.

the whole scenario was two much.

eventually these folks stopped paying rent,

of course they HAD to go.

once gone. they left leaning tower of couch.

no jumbo cans of ravioli

and they left of all way bizarre things

a HUGE box of animal porn magazines!!!

oh my gosh.

certainly not something one sees every day

TRUE story.

later i wondered, perhaps this was their pattern.

apartment to apartment.

the things folks get away with.

or how odd people are

at a glance if you met this young couple you’d never know.

i cant recall if i’ve written this story before or not.

in my mind there was a set of images taken with my now broken chair.

but for the life of me…

i can’t find them.

this one will have to do




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?


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


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.


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



You Are Invited.

for those of you in the midwest/chicago land area.

perhaps you’d care to attend an art  opening 

Jan 24th. 6-10 PM

The exhibit runs through March 1st otherwise.

and is also viewable online.

It would be rather wild if my photography piece sold to a fan!

I will unfortunately not be in attendance for the opening. cost of a plane ticket is rather prohibitive. add that i am sick. it’s best i observe from afar. 

NOTE : this is K Smith work, not AN work. I know to you that the two are the same. I am trying to assert myself as K Smith in the realm of nude art outside of the work here this last decade….


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.


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



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. 


The Friday After

i grocery shopped monday.

i, like everyone else, blew off shopping on the weekend.

so, the store was stupid full of people,

the store added more inventory so the aisles were more stupid full of all you need for turkey, buy buy buy …stupid

the look on folks faces was one of both panic and ….wait for it, stupid!!!

i needed everything, so i knew I was stupid and it was going to be a long or at least 90 minute shop

add another hour to that.

2 1/2 hours. yup.

and i could only blame myself for waiting until monday.

so… i donned my imaginary big wide brimmed “i am very patient” hat.

and just tried to be nice. what else can you do??

in the spirit of people watching.

a few stood out.

a few who had either a spirit of kindness about them,

or that fuck you get out of my fucking way i need a fucking turkey spirit.

i perused their carts. overflowing, and made up a story about them.

the fuck you dude was wearing a suit. we don’t get a lot of suits in this store. just sayin …

i think he was shopping for his mother. what he had in his cart did not look like him.  i saw him think really hard about buying flowers. he stood considering them for a very very long while. when he picked them up, I thought way to go dude in the suit. someone will feel that long thought. that decision to get. he will brighten someone’s day with those flowers.

the gal who almost needed two carts was i think a mom, or a seriously generous sister or aunt to folks with kids. her cart was piled so high she could barely see over it. she was pretty, dressed smart and rather funny in the way she shopped. she caught me staring at her. i made a recommendation, and then made her really laugh. and then I had to apologize because I almost cried. that sortof cry that comes from the relief of a good laugh. shit. there i am the bearded lady in the grocery store. sobbing. note: i didn’t cry in the grocery store. but i was close.

i did cry earlier though. i mailed off some holiday packages. with a great sense of pride actually because i had saved all year so that i could send something off to the few in my life that i want to gift to. just 3 packages. but i filled them with love. from me. which i haven’t been able to do in a long while. one of the items i sent was “smoked salt”. don’t laugh. if i sent you salt. you would thank me. kid you not.

anyway, earlier i had to parallel park. i can. i am not afraid or avoid that type of parking, i just take my time when i do it. a dude behind me waited. he then stopped next to me with a huge grin on his face and gestured a thumbs up. not an asshole thumbs up, but a real genuine thumbs up. like way to go nice parking job lady thumbs up. it was a gesture from a perfect stranger that caught me completely by surprise.  I totally lost it. big tears down my cheeks, head down on the steering wheel. shoulders shaking. sobbing. which actually felt really good.

i looked like a train wreck going into the very crowded post office and found i was shaking. emotional release and all.  i thought. you are loved somehow. in this world that you do all by yourself. people love you.

perhaps you recall a year ago. my bearded face and i were acknowledged by a room full of strangers. i unanimously won the people’s choice award. it took every single part of me not to lose it in front of that crowd of people who affirmed my courage and my gumption to grow the hair out on my face. pretty great shit.

i am in a mood today because i feel like i FINALLY have found some peace around the topic of solo and holiday. i finally get how to have it be mine. to own it.

when folks ask – any special plans for thanksgiving?? ( the very worst question someone can ask a lonely person quite truthfully ) 

i get to say. “NO. not a single plan, isn’t that wonderful?? I have a new book, and some great meals I plan to make and nowhere to go. It’s perfect!!” 

and it was!!

i had the best day!!

all by myself.

well, me and my cat.

i think i get it now. i get how to do holiday and be completely free around the entire hoopla of it.

where 10 years ago, i felt it. empty nest felt it. new, in a new town in a new house. new. alone. oppressively alone. felt it.  i wasn’t a stranger to not having my children with me, they defaulted to their fathers side of the family for all holidays many years before. we found our way to do celebrations but as they grew older. i was last in the family equation. and i felt it.

i am not sure why this year feels like an “i’ve got this” epiphany. but it does.

i was just having a flashback to the horror of two years of holiday and the meals served from the extended family of mr cowboy. how can anyone ruin a turkey dinner? powdered potatoes in a plastic lined crock pot…..are you kidding me???




a bit of clarity found me …

thinking about the months of 2019 gone by

i tried on posting differently.

i tried dosing my fans with my reality

truth be my life is not that interesting.

not in a day to day way

there is a sameness to the way i do life

some things stay the same.

posting truth and in the now revealed some interesting things about my followers.

and posts that are sharing and vulnerable in the now revealed very interesting things about me.

come 2020, i will go back to my retro style posts.

i will stay as far away from the me/the person in the equation

and just stick to artful nudity.

at least that’s how i am feeling right now.

earlier today i was filled with this memory of myself as a mom.

it was with my very young son. early grade school age. he was in tears. something had happened at school. he said. “mom, i just like want to be like everyone else.” one thing about him was he didn’t often speak. he was private and reserved. when he said something you listened. and you treasured his insight and his sharing. he was such an internal intense young being.  i remember holding onto his slight shoulders. I remember my heart breaking because he was struggling. and yet, i shook him. I spoke to him firmly.  i remember saying. “NO. you never EVER want to be like others. It’s better be your own person. It’s best to simply be YOU. NEVER try to be like another that is ordinary. be like someone that sets them self apart …someone that you really like and admire.” It amazes me that i remember this moment so clearly.  I wonder if he remembers. I wonder if I failed him in that moment. I still feel this way about being our own selves.

The OTHER decision I made has to do with my green chair. 


it no longer offers a place to sit. it just takes up space.

the chair is simply fucking uncomfortable.

I kept the chair for when company comes. Noone really visits me … and if they do, we usually share a meal so, what’s the point?  I have other chairs. Not like this one of course but  …in a pinch i can offer someone a place to sit.