it’s fair to say i have baggage when it comes to my relationship with my father

this is a tough forced march of a holiday. sometimes i can roll with it. other times i just cant

i am sure over time i’ve pondered father before

its fair to say at 23, that perhaps a father/daughter relationship had found it’s way.

in truth. that was not so

“i never should have had you kids” ( just one of his many you are not my responsibility father quotes )

the man was 50, 37 years ago when over the phone he said. “i want nothing to do with you”

over the fucking phone. 

what a coward.


what an asshole.

2 weeks prior he hosted a lavish birthday party for me.

i had just turned 23.

who are you as a person by the time you become 50?

should you have some layer of strength of character??

who are you as a person when you become 23?

perhaps you are naive about life things still?

he was a newly divorced single father of 4 who was clearly in a middle age crisis.

i was about to marry.

i was a waitress/artist wanna be

expectations or not.

he didn’t believe in the institution of marriage. uh, duh

nor did he believe in a college education

he did not example “provider”

and most of who i experienced of him growing up

was a very selfish, very self centered man.

i walked myself down the aisle

i gave him two grandchildren

whom he never met.

i had a life without him.

12 years ago I came to terms with things father.

i came to terms in that

i became ok with loving him. because i did.

i found the memories that i could celebrate.

those are memories i will always have.

i was able to cull the characteristics of him that made him good.

when i sourced his phone # after 24 years. i called him to share that i had found the love  and goodness in him. that’s all i wanted to say.

it wasn’t easy finding his number. i searched for the sake of summing up the courage to do so, and i called to settle the emotional unrest in my heart.

my younger sibling found out that i had the number. she warned him, “she is going to try and reach you”


when i called, and heard his voice. i cried. and had to hang up.

when i called again.  he pulled his phone out of the wall. truth.

he pulled the phone out of the wall.


I am not sure I fully forgave

the forgive idea is a nice one

the reality?

not so much.

“i want nothing to do with you”

is still pretty much a stinger.

today i am left with a deep wondering

who was this man who fathered me

and how is it he became so fucked up?

I have no idea who he was. or who he is now.

i am left with the stories.

stories that i get to tell

that noone else can tell.

because who would ever believe me.

In recent weeks/months our society is crumbing around us.

i found these words

“we’ve got your back” 

I have been thinking hard about

where each of us comes from

and how we become compassionate humans.

some of us were raised in selfishness.

the narrow field of vision

blinds us.

some of us, had to self preserve and survive


or on our own.

in that space, some may not have the personal knowing of

“we’ve got your back”

I don’t have the answers that puts all of this into perspective.

i just know that when i needed parents, or family, or love.

it was not there.

i have witnessed father in it’s glory, with full heart, and grace. i know father can exist.

today, the humans around me are less, and often not tangible.

what others see in me.

is sometimes not what i see of myself.

self love is really hard.

i selected this image because i was researching an image for another gallery group show and this was taken in that same time frame. this living space was a f-ing twilight zone.

metaphorically i love the big bag of “get rid of”  and the every day ness of those sandals. i was hanging on here emotionally. like holding my breath. 

i also realized that the last several posts have been in black and white. 






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

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


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


I am OK.

I am good.

I am alone

and i am lonely

yet. that’s me.


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)



When We Meet

lets see if any of you read this

recent posts have offered a variety of talking points

conversations aren’t happening.

whatever happened to conversations?

a certain someone needs to be heard.

sometimes fans reach out to me and get personal.

they then imply that we will meet.

in theory. why not meet?

i’ve met a few of you over this last decade.

in hindsight, not sure i should have…

further commentary on that …complicated. my part of it included.

the flurry of meeting was lovely. romantic. and indulgent.

friendship sustainable?


the truth is most men are really not in a position to make a meet happen.

or more importantly they can not sustain a meet once it’s occurred

reasons for that lack of ready might include: uh – married, so so very many of you are married, financially not able – since meeting is at your expense, or the real reason: lack of intention.

this lack of intention i further describe as placating

as telling or saying what one thinks i want to hear.

men will say anything to have sex with me.

am I being arrogant in saying this??

or can the truth of it resonate?

men say to themselves. “give me some of that” 

i fall sometimes for the idea of meeting.

of having the attention i deserve

the feeling of cherish

the excitement of it all.

vs the reality.

the reality is something very different.

i am thinking at the moment of this writing of one very particular man.

i liked his appearance.

i liked his mind.

i liked how he paid attention to me.

he got me.

he knew which buttons to push.

he was sexy and he knew it.


i wanted to meet him.

he said he wanted to meet me.

In the throws of it all

my MIND met him in a variety of circumstances.

the fantasy of which

was delightful in one breath.

and, not so delightful in another.

i felt frustrated by what i couldn’t have.

i can’t go into a fantasy without visual appeal

can you??

i have taken up with a man or two and didn’t give their appearance much thought.

they were kind, and attentive to me.

they wanted to meet me.

i want folks to try me on.

i feel we should give others a chance.

they were very disappointed when I wasn’t attracted upon meeting them.

which felt pretty awful for both of us.

now, i think it’s of value to have a vetting process.

my fans say that they are very attracted to me.

even without my sharing my face.

you tell me that my images provoke.

men say they fantasize about me all the time

men imagine themselves with me

within my photography.

which i appreciate hearing actually

rather powerful.

or they tell me that my images are fodder for masturbation.


 ( none of you use fodder and masturbation in the same sentence.  ) 

it’s to be expected i guess. after all i am nude. online!!

for me in reverse so to speak, it’s not your dick/cock that i want to be a part of.

( if i had a dollar for all the men that send me images of their anatomy. i’d have no financial problems )

UGH. please don’t do that.

again, do not send me images of your anatomy.

your hard whatever is the last thing I want to see.

i want to see YOU. your eyes, your lips, your hands. a beard and mustache if you have one…the shoes you are wearing.

show me something that that i can be drawn to

and then it’s your mind that i fall for.

how you GET me.

how you treat me.

what you are curious about.

how you desire me.

and then it’s WHO you are in the world.

are you up to something or are you bored and apathetic?

often the above goes to a sexual place.

makes sense when all the pieces are there.

i can’t really do the sex thing all by itself these days.

not like i use to.

it’s not enough

sex is not enough.

i ache


for connection

a connection that cares.

or a connection that can sustain a care.

Fans care.

in their own way.

how they act on it is…

well, it’s what it is.

or isn’t. mostly.

i’ve said fleeting many times here.

men come and go.

whhhhooosh they are in touch, enthusiastically.

and then poof. they are gone. as quickly as they reached out to me.

most simply don’t have time for me.

or the energy.

or the reality.

most are not looking for something personal

they want something distracting. entertaining. immediate

they are hungry in their own way.

a meet. a real one?? shifts things.

a meet makes it real.

or if when we meet and it is in our minds

its a fantasy.

The plane was delayed. The airport was bustling. Around me the mix of people swarmed accordingly. some coming, some going. many arriving, more just getting to the next place. a blur. Airports are probably my most favorite people watching place. It’s how I survive the waiting. I make up stories about the folks before me. I began people watch story making as a young girl. I spent way too much time in airports. There goes mr and mrs green. here comes sir tall, flower dress lady has too much makeup on. oh, look…those two are kissing again. how lovely they are. i’ve never written my narrative down in the midst of a wait. perhaps i should sometime. i have had a banter with another or two where we narrate together. mr tall is nervous i say, the other then says, the battery on his phone died.  he’s sweating i say, he needs another coffee the other adds. And so it goes. 

I am meeting a stranger at the airport today. a handsome stranger. and I am very nervous. I told him to be in the moment when we meet. To pocket his cell phone and let the meet be. I don’t need to know you are getting off the plane. I will be there to meet you. Just know that I am waiting. I find the management of a phone and travel frustrating. I get that they can be useful. I completely get that. I just find them distracting. Folks forget to simply be. The plane will land. You will get off the plane and I will be there to meet you. I am a person of my word. 

90 minutes later the arrival is announced. He is here. Oh my gosh he is here!  I position myself out of the way, but stand in a place where I hope to be the first person you see once you walk into the arrival area. One by one others arrive. Delays make many anxious. Connections are now altered.

I see you first. Sauntering, casual, tossled hair…you are good looking. I like that. you look for me. I like that too. Our eyes meet. You stop. We grin as wide as grins can be. A pause in time. A moment for sure. You step up your pace. I feel a blush coming on as you near. You notice. and you say, oh my gosh you are blushing! I say, I am!! I then say HI there! You say HI. Your eyes are bright and warm. Inviting. Your right hand reaches for the hair at the base of my neck, you are taller then i expected, you smell of gum. and you pull me to you. you whisper in my ear. you are beautiful, you say. you are so beautiful. you’ve taken my breath away. You see me struggling as to what to say next. you kiss me. gently. lip to lip. touch. want, curious. i feel all of you near me, the kiss finds its way to hungry. Our lips are a good fit. I tremble. You say, wow. I grin. you grin back. we hold on to each other.

in my fantasy, i replay the kiss over and over and over.  in my collection of fantasies, there are lots of kisses. in my memory of real meets, those kisses get replayed in my mind as well.   

what a goof i am. what a hopeless romantic.

some kisses don’t make the instant replay. those kisses are not memorable. i hate that. some men are very good at replicating that first kiss. it’s like they get that a first kiss is worth repeating. i once met a man, older than I who had never kissed someone before. i was an eager lover back then. he said are all women this enthusiastic about kissing. I said, i have no idea. you tell me. this is when i found out he was a virgin. many years later he will tell me. a man always remembers their first time. You were that first for everything for me











these were on my desktop

i am sure i pulled them

as to write about them.

may as well be now.

below a collage created a year ago that also landed on my desktop.

seems fitting to share it along with this story.

this collage is for sale by the way – it is impressive in it’s 18 x 24 expression

and, i am trying to fund, as I’ve mentioned. a car repair.


perhaps you’d care to help.

i began giving attention to behavior that has a people phobic theme a year ago.

my behavior specifically.

i was writing an art grant.

i wrote about a project idea that got me inspired.

while i didn’t win the grant.

my life happened

and the idea got lost in my shit.

and now a year later this idea and my shit

are in the front of my brain

someone here said. “people disappoint”


i think that sums things up fairly well.

many folks just suck.

perhaps i am a disappointment to others. if you feel critical of me

keep that to yourself.

all of us are shits at some time or another.

after my first divorce i became an entrepreneur.

i did this so that i could be the single mom i needed to be.

and have a flexible work/home life.

as i began to find success

i was awarded a paid trip to a convention.

at that time, even though my beginnings were strong,  things were financially and emotionally bleak.

it took something even though the gig was paid to get to this event.

i stayed in a seriously wonderful old swank hotel.


i even had a few of the right outfits.

a gal friend actually sent me on my way with a rolling suitcase and outfit advice

i really didn’t have a clue.

These conventions had these organized events.

rah – rah sorts of events

I found these events very very very hard to get to.

conventions are horrific forced march bullshit things

that i didn’t realize at the time

how conforming they were.

more than once i found myself in a bubble bath

vs in a meeting with 10,000 other beings.

i hid in a mountain of bubbles. most of the convention.

i was alone at this conference.

i knew folks

but folks get busy at these things. because its all so important.

more than once i found myself facing serious wallflower status.

and I hated it.

I had not given thought to that experience of myself and crowds until this past year.

truth be, bubble baths or other self care solitaire activities were how I coped with that crowd thing in many many a circumstances since that convention.

its how i got to the other side.

before you decide i am a total lunatic.

i am an introvert.

what i do, or how i behave has a word.

i didn’t know that until my recent move

I can do just about anything with a single someone by my side

i don’t need a very large circle of friends around me

but that one go to? that’s really how i like to roll.

the thing is.

as i age, or as my circumstances complicate

its not easy to be my friend.

i get that.

thus, me. myself and me.

i am not explaining.

i am understanding.

that last photo.

i have not honored this apartment with a story about it yet.

it’s had so many different configurations.

the bed over here worked at the time.

all of it is different now


I Give Up

after 11 years,

and many of those years here with all of you.

i officially dumped my online dating profiles.

gone. done. not looking. forget it

just seemed like it was time.

many of you have heard me say this before.

there was never ever a time in my life when there was a line at the door.

if there ever was,

not sure what i’d do

maybe it’s me.

maybe it’s them.

not even worth speculating about it even.

for now

i give up.

just going to be

and be


gotta love how pixelated this picture is

maybe all the pixels will fly apart

and i’ll be