Annual Entitlement

i celebrate another year older in a few weeks. 

it’s the one time of year where I want to be celebrated. it’s the one time a year where i want the attention. the sortof attention that it’s all about ME. it’s the one day that i want to know, like really really know, that my being born matters. i gave up a very very long time ago that my birthday is going to be some planned momentous occasion. planned by another anyway. I make my own way in the hey it’s my day lets celebrate department.

the entitled part of me has a wish list. i always do this. you know the drill.  it’s a list of items where later I can say. oh such and such gave me that for my bday. it’s about having something treasured that reminds me.  my being born matters 

folks are funny about being celebrated. some don’t want an ounce of hoopla.  i say nonsense to that. it matters that you were born.

others i know expect a month long celebration. and they get it!! ha!! how do they do that?

in today’s day i have no expectations except a small practical suggestion i sent to my kids. because that’s the other part of me. i am pretty pragmatic.

next year i turn 60 on my birth year 1960.

part of me thinks. gosh perhaps thats a year to plan something.

what would i plan?

i have NO idea.

i had an invite this year for a road trip

a gal i know moved in with her man.

i would like to meet him.

investigating it further

the drama was going to be too much.

my ability to roll with drama lately is nill.

i also had to put a car repair before a road trip

but, this repair puts the annoying front brake sound to rest.

and perhaps i will go a year without car repair drama

i like that idea. i like that idea a lot

the year i met mr cowboy, our first date was around my birthday.

he did all the right things, truth be

maybe i am just a pushover.

the day one is born matters. 

just like quite a few of you here

over the years

have gone out of your way

for my birthday.

thank you for that.

today is the day of the week i do art all day, i wrote a summation of what i plan to make in the upcoming year. it took me a better part of the day to make sense of it all –  this is a new strategy for me. i am not quite at the place to see this past year in my rear view mirror. it was a good year that way. a different year but a good one but, i hit a stuck place recently because of some pretty serious overwhelm. i stopped all. i went internal and I did some thinking. and today. all that thinking came together and made sense. i am feeling rather inspired. inspired by me. who knew

 

 

 

The Fine Lines Of Fandom

i just took the best vacation.

i had no idea how much i needed it.

seriously.

i got to a place of nothing

a zone of relax

a chill to the ninth degree.

i stretched it out as long as I possibly could.

i got to the i deserve this place too.

which felt grand.

BUT

today is my first day back to reality.

my writing this afternoon.

is a space/place away from the to-do list

which is rather long.

but long in a good way.

like due course long.

i am beginning to realize how i craft my life.

and how great it can be,

when i craft things with what’s best for me in mind.

not trying to be preachy

i just feel some clarity.

perhaps that’s what vacations provide.

my son, an avid cyclist said recently, just because someone rides a bike doesn’t mean we are friends.  it does mean that we have something in common. and that’s a great place to start. I liked that perspective

i say to new people in my life/life. my real life.  I am happy to try someone on. i love meeting new people. However I am going to be quick to acknowledge that if it isn’t a good fit. I will probably move on. i have way too little emotional energy to be with something that isn’t working for me. i also tell them it’s me defining the fine lines. that it’s often not them. i am complicated. and still rather fragile. i know of some people who want to be closer to me. I can’t do that any longer with just anyone

as fleeting, ghosting, judging and stupid as people can be. or have been. i gotta say figure out the fine lines

there ARE the good ones. true to self folks shine. i want and need shiny. i want light. i want effortless. and when i am around effortless. it’s a breath of fresh air

i say all of this because over the last few months now over a handful of you  have shared an opinion. this opinion sharing feels like the crossing of a very fine line.

I went with the first commentary. i let it roll off my emotional shoulder

i did not feel judged.

i heard the thought.

i let it go

but then another shared their thoughts, and another, and another

and now …i feel a tad bombarded by unwanted opinions.

the opinion is about the hair on my face.

you are all entitled to your thoughts about the topic

i also get that i am in an open public place about it

a virtual space

but realize this.  if i am a person now with hair on her face.

this is who i am. it’s sortof not negotiable.

it’s like if a man goes bald.

he’s now bald.

i bet that it is highly unlikely that there is a single woman in your immediate circle of influence who has a face like mine. how much do you want to bet?

and if there is, i applaud that woman. and I applaud you. especially  if you intermingle socially with that person, and/ or if you share her with your other spheres of …people.

ya see, it’s one thing to know me, to say way to go lady, to think that it takes such courage to be me. but more often than not, i am not going to be included at family dinner.

this is happening folks. this is my reality.

this is the way it is for me.

so….get with the program

for some

this face of mine

is embarrassing.

when a man that you know goes bald do you tell that dude

i don’t like your shiny head?

do you say yeah your baldness isn’t doing it for me.

because some are saying that.

about my face.

it’s fucking rude when you get right down to it.

i get opinions

i get opinionated

i get having a point  of view

i get free speech

i also get grace.

have some grace for fuck sake

have some empathy

try my circumstance on sometime and see how it FEELS.

are you on my shit list because you shared this opinion of yours?

NO.

it does make me wonder what you were thinking.

outside of your distaste for the appearance of my face and all.

it certainly does not attract me to you

it does not have me trust the nature of our communications as nurturing, compassionate, kind and supportive.

perhaps some thoughts are better left unsaid.

the reality of all of this is many of us have known each other a very long time

a decade long time

you and i hanging out in real life??

highly unlikely.

so i am i am never going to embarrass you.

put your vote so to speak where it matters.

onto other things….

in my fantasies – i meet a nice guy who loves to cycle casually on sunday. he realizes that i cANt navigate a bike on my own. so he invests in one of these. as corny as a bicycle built for two is,  i adore the old fashioned sentiment. i like the idea of doing together in a way that works …considering all involved.

this gem of a bike was at a place i was featured at… as an artist. i sold some art and gabbed with people who felt curious about me and my work. very low ebb of an afternoon but lovely.

the memory of an old schwinn takes me to many places. i’ve had 3. only one had the glitter hand grips. she was a buttery brown.

i feel too vulnerable to ride a bike now.

i am not a pig tail gal. more of a braids person. on this day though i was lazy. i love the part in back because there is only a very small moment of the dark hair left that use to be my signature. the rest is silvered or turned of all things rather white. i love the contrast

i call these two shots pig tails and jasmine rice. it was a daily, making rice, kitchen cabinet door left  open ( i do that. a lot ) moment. plus it’s not a bad shot of that tatt of mine.

perhaps i should feel apologetic about the beginning of this post.

like maybe my thoughts are not what you want to hear

but I don’t feel sorry.

i feel truthful

perhaps that’s where some of you were coming from too.

 

 

 

 

Triggers

if you say the word trigger

it’s an alert.

it says you have survived something

and usually those somethings are not good.

its a word that is used way too often now.

unfortunately

i loathe mainstream terms

sure i survived.

a LOT

but when there is  hashtag and a campaign around it

when survivors are now a tribe

no.

The words do however set the tone.

and the word trigger

i find very useful

i didn’t mean to run into these images but here they fucking are.

the triggers in this trio are there.

allow me to share.

first image. i remember this day. i had put this dress on backwards and didn’t notice. so like me.  this shot – headless me? was a bit like where had I gone. the “i” part. I love the missing head, the front of the dress on the back of me and the feet in the other direction — this is a great odd shot. I was losing my home here. my lovely little circa 1926 bungalow. my lovely 27 windows of 4 way light. my first space of my very very own. the owning of which happened without a plan in 4 days. my income once here began to spiral. the beginnings of repressed memories and trauma began here. and, so did my alter ego that all of you know so so well. ( or think you know anyway ) I have been writing for cathartic reasons lately and am glad of it. thank you for reading. and for noticing. i am ok. just alone as usual.  but thank you for wondering. so the trigger in this image was the toaster oven. go figure. when i moved in with mr cowboy. he pitched my toaster oven. big big demonstrative ceremony to the dumpster. this has got to go. in the scheme of things NOW I actually have no need for one. but then — a toaster oven was a fixture of home. and he dismantled home emotionally for me. at so so many levels. he messed with it. he messed with me.

second image.  in my creative mind and heart. images like these are an expression and story i want to tell. coupling. my belief in two. visually the moment captured here = lust and desire. it shares an i feel pretty and it pauses a something between two that is a feeling. not a selfie, not contrived, not predicted. it’s real. i can feel the tenderness of these two lips touching. it was like that between us. chemistry at it’s best. lips kissing to wet between them lovely. yum.  the day after this was taken. this man dumped me via text. who the fuck does that. i was stunned.  i gave it or his so called dump some time, because it was JUST weird. He crawled back with an automatic sorry and a handful of pesticide ridden yellow roses. I allowed that. this is where i should say to myself wtf  — because i asked for more of him.  we all have part in our messes. the trigger in this one — stops me in my emotional tracks. the very very memory of such tenderness makes my stomach turn inside out. how is this even missing from my LIFE. we all deserve kisses. lots and lots of them.

The last image was taken for someone who at the time was paying attention to me virtually. he. like most. fleeted. but at the time this was taken for him. the banter was very lovely. I enjoyed taking this image and would do so for  special certain reasons and circumstances. This image reminds me triggers all of my humble beginnings – 10 years ago — my alter ego, my courage to be nude and my looking at myself. inside and out. I keep trying to say… that person is no longer here. I keep speculating about trauma, and age because the other side of it all is there and real. when i look at this image i don’t see the same flesh. and age has altered the demographic

At some level I have stopped looking. or have lost the desire or the feeling of i am…worth looking at i guess. and this isn’t to self deprecate. this is to say who really cares. because who does ?? because really.  if am deserving and worthy. then that should be standing by my side.

My cat was sick last week. for about 4 days she wouldn’t leave me. her curled form upon my chest had me feel a tenderness again that had me weep. she’s a fucking cat. and some of you are not cat people so, i get that but  …the emotional value of a pet is sortof there. and she, and I are together more than anything else. the thing is. i, as you know, tell stories with my photography. i offer a narrative. and doing so in social media has had a volume of folks fall in love with her. It’s pretty neat. In the spirit of that — two strangers and one friend have gifted funds for a now empty vet envelope. not small change either. generous gifting.  That said, I am fully prepared for a next circumstance for her in a way I would have not been able to manage on my own. THIS is pretty great.

I should write more about the gifting economy sometime. and money, and triggers.

another time. 

For Fun

what do you do for fun?

not sure i do fun

not in a really fun

actually fun way

sometimes there are reasons i don’t do fun

money of course

there is that.

if you say nature and walks are free or fun.

fuck you

standing alone in the woods

or walking and going nowhere

isn’t fun.

my feet can only stand so much

within the theme of its hard to be my friend 

i am the person that says to my friends…

hey i’ve cashed in my penny jar wanna catch a film? a full jar buys a ticket AND popcorn! GLEE. I get to maybe two films a year. and believe it or not. its hard to find a movie pal these days.

once i had a date, another ugh of man. he went to at least two movies a week. i asked if her ever takes a friend. and he said why would i do that?? what a drip of a human he was. I think he too was another that brought up anal …wtf??  ( sorry i digress )

or i say,  hey i have a chicken breast, chick peas and tomato — what do you have? bring it over and i’ll make something. i love meal making with a friend

or i might say i have to do icky errands, wanna join me? coffee out is on me. i love when i can treat. its not often but when i can. i do. and it makes me happy.

if you lived near and said hey wanna go to a film, or out for thai, or join me for happy hour, or go on a road trek to check out an antique store. i would say gosh I’d love to uh, if it’s your treat. I would have to be sure that you are treating. cuz otherwise i would embarrass myself and you with my inability to pay. this is forever awkward.

i repeat. forever awkward

Most of the time the above fun things that most folks do

i just don’t have the fiscal chops for.

folks don’t include me in their plans for that reason

i had a married neighbor who i should have fucked.

i can’t believe i just wrote that.

it’s true though. i should have had him.

he loved beer, and conversation.

he was a creative and really admired my art. and a great conversationalist.

his wife was one piece of work that was very critical of him.

she did not like me.

the feeling was mutual.

he however did and often very randomly he’d stop by with a 6 pack

we’d gab. and we would LAUGH

and then,  he’d almost get caught being in my good company and have to go. he’d fib sometimes when she called. we would keep it our little secret

i’d be slightly buzzed and hungry because often i needed to be making dinner or something.  and i loved the randomness of it

he was shy about eating in front of others. a bit of a nervous sort but as years passed he’d say let me treat you to lunch, which meant a lot to me because he wasn’t shy around me any longer — and we’d go. and laugh. it was more relaxed because his wife was working. and there was beer. of course. it felt like hookey.

i remember one time i asked him to lunch and he said no way. like no way in that he was surprised.  i grinned and said. I have the ability to treat and i would love to do that. he would have nothing to do with it.  he then told me how much he enjoyed our conversations, how he admired me, my unique points of view and my creative mind and that he too enjoyed treating. he said let me keep treating you

he knew about my nudes. at a very minimal level. i showed him a file or two. his knowing was always there. we never discussed it. one time we were drinking good beer. import beer and there were two 6 packs because he was in the mood he said.  i found myself very very attracted to his mouth. i just got fixated on his lips. a bit i guess like the slow motion mouth scenes in a film or something. know what i mean?? I wanted to kiss him in an indescribable way

i miss that guy. i miss that house.

over time others have been a part of similar circumstances

FUN circumstances.

spontaneous fun now? in my current life?

not really.

i have a very long list of things i absolutely love doing all by myself.

however when i am trying to squeeze blood from a rock for a reason.

like now

with this sick cat i have

or the front brakes envelope

or or or

i go to sparce on purpose

i go deeper into the i have no life place

and just find joy in what i have

not what i don’t have

like right now in this very moment  the sun is doing it’s twinkle dance around my studio

i could watch this light all day.

i feel like it envelopes me somehow

fluttering light kisses.

it’s also so very beautiful

now add a glass of wine to that

and that would up the fun immensely.

don’t think i am a lush

i miss social drinking.

and do it very occasionally.

i don’t revolve my world around a cocktail.

on vacation – cocktails for breakfast? uh, why not.

on a first date? hell yes.

social.

i have no social life remember.

a fan said this week that he missed the old me.

i shared back that i miss the old me too

what if the old me is really gone?

below images are very very early work.

first works

vintage me

a firmer me

2009

very naive

i felt courageous taking these

thinner

trimmed

not sure the hair on my thighs is like this now

i am older

fallen

broken and shit.

ALL was made more vibrant back then by sharing.

wonder where this blouse went?

 

 

 

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.

 

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

sweating.

under the covers sex

because he liked air conditioning.

none of that happening here.

none of that happening now.

 

Classic And Blurry

I spent the weekend in the blur of some technique research.

that rabbit hole thing that is know as “google it.”

yesterday i noticed there was some rare traffic at my blog from over the weekend.

thank you, thank you very much for being here with me. 

if you ever feel like letting me know you are around. I’d value that too!!

it’s nice to know who you are

YEARS ago I was a scrapbooker. A nice way to memorialize family photos. I completed 15 albums.  I dismantled a life time of photographs that had been in basic albums from the drug store.  Very organized. I super regret doing that now. The dismantling all part.  They are not all in a row any longer. If you think of a life time of photographs. printed, the old fashioned film sort. it’s a task to have them available to view. a monumental task. then digital happened. and it got confusing.

I disliked the digital album making immensely.

what i disliked about scrapbooking is that it was a huge consumer driven model of making. buy. buy. buy. the more one got involved the more one could buy. there were folks who turned entire rooms into making spaces for this expression. the volume of made in china supplies were stored in custom designed closets. or in plastic bins with cute matchy matchy tags. I found this all rather horrifying. upsetting actually.  I didn’t realize then that those who knit, or batik, or quilt or whatever craft they got themselves into were equally devoted to having all the stuff. so much stuff. so many tools. so much purchasing. a hoarding of sorts.

i also disliked how conforming the making could be. perhaps it was by design to have all who participate be successful at it. i sortof get that. it’s just that everyone’s scrapbook essentially looked the same. cookie cutter.

perhaps you get by now that i am the least conforming person on the planet. my personal mission back then was to spend as little money as possible. and to have my pages look different then others. Scrapbooking was my beginnings in learning to crop photography. I got very good at it. AND my pages did look quite unique.

you then get into the very very fine lines of making that is craft. vs making that is art.

THAT was the rabbit hole I found myself in over the weekend. the crafters.

in my drawer i had three bottles of alcohol inks. someone gave them to me. she said, you will love these. back then there wasn’t the google monster to get lost in with tutorials. (speaking of — those crafter people all have fancy ways of videotaping themselves making. when did that happen??? Its like being on a different planet ) after watching a few – the very very last thing i want to do is master this medium. who knew. or many other from the craft store buy me now supply.

I could actually expound on this topic a lot further.

but i won’t.

my point is i took a break from how i normally do weekend to do some research.

i did find quite a bit of helpful or idea inspiration.

i just have to find my own way with those now.

Something also occurred to me.

like knocked me over the head actually.

this blog has always been image sharing from yesterdays images.

it’s hard to explain.

right now it’s the month of june.

i normally would search images from june of 2018 for here. ( a year gone by )

and share imagery from june 2017 for flickr.

I’d  use those images to tell stories.

either stories of current thoughts

or stories prompted by those images.

i stopped doing that in 2019.

I have gone done memory lane image wise occasionally

but not by process for most posts.

i hope you get what i mean.

ALL that said

posting in real time

parallel to my day to day struggles

has left me with a feeling of vulnerability.

a very very different exposure

I have been trying to understand how raw it’s felt lately to be here.

it’s because of the way I am sharing.

is this a good idea or not??

I am not sure.

I think the experiment is worth continuing

i just wondered what you feel you’ve been part of lately.

is the tone different for you too??

( the bathroom has a pocket door. it and above my bed are the only blank wall or such space in my city studio. i try and capture with as little things of my life distraction as possible but when you live so small. under 300 square feet – it’s hard to do that. i had not thought to use this door as a space for a backround until now. i will have to see when the light actually gets over there. )