Gimme a break!

Today I spent my time going from gallery to gallery. The day was muggy and I was sweaty and desperate. I feel as though I have made some headway but not enough. I see now that this is going to take more work than I anticipated. Why oh why did I think I needed a break? Nothing worse than walking into a nice clean gallery, covered in paint, sweat and tattoos knowing that nobody knows you or believes you when you say that you can bring it. sooo, I will just have to prove that I can. BUT, for those of you that know my work and know something that i may not when it comes to galleries that may be looking for some cartoony, brightly colored paintings filled with naked women and blood well then hey, you know where I be. There, I have just proved to myself that I can be shameless.
HA.

the surgery fiasco

I knew it wouldn't be easy. I had been dreading this day for weeks. It did not help that the moment my little one awoke, she began to cry in fear. It was the day that she would get her tonsils and adenoids removed. I know this sounds basic but as a mother, it is major. anytime the regular flow of your childs life is tampered with, it is major. She was shaking so badly that I had to carry her in. The check in was quick (and monetarily painful) and then they called her back. they checked her vitals, got her changed into her hospital gown and explained to her how the gas mask that was going to make her sleep would work. she was still shaky and kept looking to me to gauge my reaction to all of this and I had to be a big liar and just nod and smile and tell her it would be fine, no big deal. they let me have one more kiss and then ushered me out to the waiting room
and this is where I sat with my step dad and friend, not for very long when suddenly her doctor was in the waiting room saying that everything was o.k. and done and I could see her soon. about thirty minutes later, My dad and I were led back to the recovery room and that was when I saw her. my poor little girl. her face looked bruised and swollen, her eyes were bloodshot and she could barely focus on my shape and to make my heart feel like it was being squeezed in a vise grip, she tried to force her drugged features into a smile while attempting to tell me that she was o.k. as her heart monitor began to speed up I shushed her, sitting as close to her as her little hospital bed would allow, stroking her face, telling her to close her eyes while I watched the heart monitor slow down as I touched her face talking in a low, soothing mom voice about nothing important. about what we would do when we got home and what kind of popsicles she would like. she fell back to sleep and the nurse eventually came back in to give me the frightening instructions about her recovery and the potential dangers. I nodded bravely as though this were something I dealt with on a daily basis, potential bleeding, fevers and puking. eventually another nurse came in to wake violet up and take out her I.V. She was surprisingly brave, looking to me for acknowledgment over this. I nodded in all seriousness while telling her that "my little lady is as tough as nails" as the nurse slid the tube out of her hand and she fell back in relief, the codeine that the nurses had given her prior to my arrival in the recovery room beginning to affect her. she looked at her band-aid smiling and admiring the fuzziness of elmo's legs out loud as I turn to smile at my dad. apparently she was a bit wasted. the nurse came back asking her if she wanted to ride in a wheel chair and she drunkenly insisted that she wanted her Grandpa to carry her. No problem. I pulled the car around and my dad put her in it and I got out and began strapping her in and bundling towels around her in case she got sick from the medicine. she just looked around dazedly and then began to admire her band-aid again.
Once home, I realized that my dad had bought her some french fries and a milkshake(something the nurse said she could have when she was READY) and the little sweetie tried to make her way through a couple of bites of the milkshake doggedly, to make her grandpa happy.
So we made it through the day fairly peacefully, her on the couch, me at her feet reading a book. Hovering, constantly in her peripheral afraid to move afraid to leave her alone. Not wanting for her, even if for a moment to feel as though I was not right there. Ready if she needed me.
she ate several bowls of ice cream only whimpering when the pain medicine began to wear off and we had to wait 45 minutes for the 4th hour to strike. the magic moment where she could feel better again. even if for only a couple of hours.
I kept her up until 10pm so that she could take one more dose of her medicine. she was exhausted after refusing to sleep at all during the day. once she had the medicine, she drifted off to sleep as I continued to read my book, monitoring her sleep. I eventually closed my book after I heard her breathing become even and right before I shut off the light she snapped up to a sitting position, clawing at the walls attempting to pull at the molding on the wall that resembles a door while saying, "why? why?" and then she stood up to half kneeling, half standing position, poking at the painting above her saying, "why won't this work?" I found this a bit amusing and a bit frightening as I calmed her back down, knowing she was not awake as her eyes were glossed over and red, not quite focusing in on me as I spoke to her. once her breathing became even I again I turned out the light again, falling into a light sleep only to be awoken by her ragged breathing, her snoring louder than a grown man and I began to get a little worried. in between the loud, choking snoring sounds I would her breathing pause...for way too long. I would nudge her and she would begin to breathe again. I turned to her so that I could watch her in the dim light. Her mouth was swollen, her tongue pushing up against the roof of her mouth, her breathing forced through her swollen little nose. Fuck, I knew I would not be able to sleep well that night. I drifted off again only to awake again thirty minutes later to the sound of her choking and whimpering and I gave her some water and made her breathe, trying to clear her throat gently and she fell back to the pillows falling back into a fitful sleep. I sighed and turned over to my back, listening to her breathing, not breathing myself so as to hear her better. silently wishing that I was not alone on this particular night. though I fought sleep, I still found myself dreaming. I found myself alone in a house, searching for her, climbing upstairs, calling her name as I could hear her choking to breathe somewhere above me. I found her hunched over a toilet at the top of the stairs, a toilet suspended in air above the backyard. I could see the back of her head as she puked dark red blood as well as the yard below, puddles and ponds everywhere. I reached forward to hold her hair back and missed...it was then that I fell forward past her and down into the yard my foot somehow catching on a wire on the way down. the wire was connected to a giant speaker and when I hit the ground I saw it hit next to me, falling into a puddle of water, sparking with the sound of electricity that was still connected to a power source and I saw the blue light zap through the water toward me as I leaped up running away trying to avoid the puddles as I attempted to make my way back into the house. not seeing any way in without getting electrocuted I began to hear her cry again. it was a plaintive sound, bringing me back to my reality, I opened my eyes to see her sitting upright in the bed again and this time her face was contorted in pain. I looked at the clock and saw that it was finally time again to give her her medicine. I began to get it ready and she was just getting more and more panicky and I knew what was coming if this continued. "Take a deep breath and calm down or you will be sick" I could hear it in her voice, I could hear it coming. She just nodded her head as her hands flew to her mouth, the dark red sick pushing out from between her fingers. I grabbed her up, racing her to the bathroom, my sleep tired legs barely working as she wretched onto my hands, my arm, the blanket that had fallen to the floor in my haste. I got her to the bathroom as the flung her self over the toilet bowl, choking and wretching as I scrambled to keep her hair out of it, the mantra in my head screaming, 'Fuck, fuck, oh fuck please stop' While my actual voice told her firmly that she needed to breathe as I watched the dark vomit turn bright red with blood knowing that the force of her heaving was forcing the scabs to burst. I held her hair with one hand, wiping her mouth with another while still coaxing her to stand up and breathe. Finally, the moment passed and she was sobbing and falling to the floor as I scooped her up and then attempted to wet a washcloth to wipe her face and nose. I went to the cupboard and pulled out new bedding that I set on the floor only to see her curl up on it still sobbing as I ripped the dirty bedding off of the bed. I moved her and then got everything back to normal, tucking her in and climbing in next to her knowing that sleep would not come to me again. I lay there the rest of the night, reading, listening to her breathing and prodding her when her inhalations paused for too long and I write this now from the land of the walking dead...
Though I am thankful for auto pilot, I am sometimes all too aware of how difficult doing this by myself is...but we will make it through. we always do. I make sure of it.

what is it and why do we contemplate it?

falling asleep I am thinking of the many faces of love, awakening my mind is stuck in a rickety airplane set up like a movie theatre with windows on either side that cannot get more than 20 feet off of the ground. we bump up and down, the trees flying past, my heart full of fear, my hand gripping that of the bespectacled girl next to me I think desperately about getting off of this awful contraption. I hope like hell it never makes it into the air. It begins to ascend, the sound of branches cracking against the side of the plane, the street wavering below. I chance a look out the window and the plane dips toward the tree lined street below and I jerk myself awake in fear, startling him in his sleep and he jumps a little then pulls me in closer.
Back to my original thoughts. There was once a time when I thought that love was something to be attained, something that could be possessed. I learned later in life that love is a verb. love is something that is felt and acted upon in a moment of passion. whether that passion is of the lustful or familial variety, it is inspired by passion just the same.
I have as of recently felt this bubbling up of emotion, of passion, of loving feeling. Now I understand that this feeling can be fleeting and intermittent but there is something so profound about it when it alights on your heart and mind. Or maybe it is profound in some cases because it does not come randomly or of it's own free will(does love have a will?) it is generated. it is a spark that is created and then coaxed so that it may burst into flame in the case of lust and when the flame gets hot and burns bright, everything can fall away and the feeling of buoyancy the heat causes in your body and mind can be exquisite... until the flame burns out...but we won't think about that. Then in the case of family love, it is like an old ember that just burns and burns, sometimes flaring up and surprising you with its intensity other times just smoldering and waiting, the warmth something to be counted upon. Like a commodity. Is there a way to combine the two? or are they just two separate things? can the spark flare up, burn bright and then smolder while waiting for a breeze of desire or inspiration so that it may be regenerated, bursting back into flame?
These are the things I lay there thinking about. To no end of course because I still know that love is a verb and not a material thing. It is acted out when it is felt and there is not usually any rhyme nor reason. at least not in my experience. although maybe that is because I only know the smoldering ember that I keep hidden from the outside world and have only experienced the spark and quick burning flame once or twice.
who knows? who cares? It is just something to be contemplated as I lay there naked, comfortably intertwined with the body of another. a body that has created a spark within me that bursts into flame from time to time...much to my delight as it leaves me feeling warm and content. For now.

Feelings are gay.

I lie there, the warmth of the afternoon sun filtering in through a gap in the curtains. I listen to the in and out rhythm of his breathing as he falls into sleep, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, twitching as his body fights the vertigo that the subconscious meeting the conscious can create. I concentrate on the feeling of his chest against my shoulders, stomach against my back...from the top of my neck to the bottoms of my heels we are connected by an unbroken line of warmth that feels as though it in itself is alive. there is something very soothing about this. this is something I have not felt in a long while. I feel as though I could lie there forever, never feeling restless to get away, never trying to untangle myself from an awkward embrace because I embrace the awkward as our laughter smooths it away...there is no bad feeling here.

I blindly toss my eggs into one basket haphazardly, not caring if they break or get lost. not caring if the basket is even there to catch them because if it means that I get to hold onto this feeling of comfort and affection if only for a moment, then that moment will be precious as long as I feel it. it has been a long time since the warmth of another penetrated the cool exterior of this self. making it glow from the inside out.

so fuck it, I toss my eggs and my caution to the wind because life is short and I move forward with or without these experiences. all I want to know is feeling, the feeling of warm breath on the back of my neck, of laughter late at night, of a painting started, a painting finished, of being loved by a daughter a brother a friend, of all the things that make me want to live because I am tied together, moment by moment by a string of feelings and emotions that have been woven to create this self.

the thought of the future is a frightening thing, but the thought of feeling happy is not.

her and me. the pain of separation.

I have been waiting for weeks for a dream that is worth remembering. I remember a little bit of a dream last week involving my best friend and a green hat but not enough to write about.
Last night I had a dream that hurt me emotionally and it was about this same friend. This friend is like a sister to me, she is my family.

I dreamed we were in a smoky bar, the music was loud and we had to shout to be heard. She and I were with some other people whom I do not know in real life. We were both drinking heavily and I was acting like a bit of an asshole. I upset her by talking about something private in mixed company and she decided to leave. I begged her not to, telling her not to drive drunk while I grabbed for her elbow. She yanked her arm out of my grasp and attempted to stomp out the door, weaving slightly. I sighed, giving up, figuring that I would call her and apologize later. I turned and began talking to our friends again and that was when one of them pointed out to me that she really should not have been driving and that I should go after her. I panicked, running out of the hot smoky bar and out into the cool damp night, glancing over to where her car should have been. It was then that I saw her silver taurus down the road in the distance...again, weaving slightly. I ran after the ghost of her taillights, frantically believing that I would catch her, that she might see me, sense me in the rearview mirror and turn around, understanding my concern, forgiving me my stupidity. I ran until I saw the red light disappear over the horizon and then I collapsed onto a nearby bus bench, wondering what to do next. I fell asleep(passed out drunk) and then woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I opened my eyes and found that I was in my bed. Confused I reached for the phone and opened it to the sound of her mothers voice calmly telling me that my friend had died. She said that nobody knew how, that she had just disappeared and was presumed dead. I began to wail, knowing that it was my fault, that I had done wrong by not being able to catch her before she drove. I felt out of control and only vaguely heard her mother telling me to calm down. I heard her say that I should come over to get some of her daughters things because she could not possibly be expected to deal with them. I agreed and decided to ride my bike over to her house in the city but as I neared her residence, I began to feel a fluttery panic in my chest as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, my head felt light and I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. I looked up and saw that I was already at her moms house and that there was no turning back because she was in the front yard, her back to me while cutting her flowers. she turned to me and waved, gesturing me inside. My body immediately felt heavy and I just wanted to be alone with my impending grief but I knew that it was not possible because I had a responsibility to her mother. a responsibility to take care of the things that my friend had left behind. I walked into the house and there in the front hall lay a pile of my sisters things. Her paintings, her clothing, a black, fluffy jacket that she wears every winter, a pair of pants I used to laugh at in high school and above all, a stack of unfinished sketches for paintings. My mind focused on the sketches, feeling so many things at once. Feeling the complete weight of my loss. I would never be able to talk to her about what thoughts inspired these sketches, I would never be able to see what her lovely dark mind would come up with next. I would never be able to call her, never be able to laugh with her, paint with her, hug her, kiss her, know her. The emptiness was overwhelming and the feeling of vertigo became unbearable. I sank to the floor, my head in my hands, images of her flashing through my mind while I felt as though I might throw up. I could hear her moms voice somewhere above me, asking me if maybe I could do "something" with these unfinished paintings. maybe paint on them, make them whole. the idea of trying to face the completion of these paintings alone, without her was so frightening that I began to cry. I felt my face getting hot and flushed and the tears were wetting my cheeks while somehow managing to ground me back into the reality of my pain. I suddenly felt as though I was in a movie, the sound of "return to oz" by the scissor sisters swelling in the backround, my sadness a complete physical and material thing tugging me to open my eyes and realize that I was in my bed, that I was awake and that I had just experienced an unbelievably real nightmare that had left my cheeks wet with tears, my throat tight with emotion.
needless to say, the beginning of my day was dark and confusing.
Not the best thing to write about but I needed to. I needed to feel that sadness again so that I could evaluate just how much I love her.
My best friend.
I am so thankful that I have somebody like her.

dirty girl

I had a dream the other night that is still haunting me with its dark humor and strange depth.
Although first off we must get the facts out there. I am not a full fledged lesbian. In fact, I do not believe that I am any sort of lesbian at all. I like kissing them from time to time and that is about it. well, read on and you will see.
I was on a bed in a pale yellow room with nothing interesting about it save the fact that it was small. I was kissing the most beautiful middle eastern woman ever and her girlfriend was sitting in the chair at the end of the bed, watching. As I kissed the girl I became aware of the way she smelled and I started to panic. I could feel her pushing her body up against mine, trying to force my attention to her vagina..."Oh God," I thought. the last thing I want to do is go down on this girl...but isn't that what she wanted me to do? isnt that what lesbian girls do? was her girlfriend noticing my hesitancy? Am I being rude? As I pondered my situation, The girl pulled away from my embrace and pushed me back on the bed and then stomped out of the room. I sat there stunned for a moment and then looked over at the girlfriend and suddenly noticed her appearance. she had a round face and high forehead, complete with rosy cheeks and blond straight hair, pulled back into a junior high ponytail. she was wearing an old lady blouse that as I watched, she began to remove. underneath she had on a black lacy bra and her tits were just spilling out over the top, crowning the chubby body that bordered on voluptuous. she moved toward me and we began to kiss and this time, I was enjoying it, I was getting excited. especially when she told me her little secret: she could not get off on oral sex alone and felt as though she was living a lie. she pulled out a double ended dildo and told me that she wanted to have sex. She handed the toy to me and I just sat there holding it awkwardly. I did not know what to do. I did not feel comfortable using it and then suddenly realized that I was no longer turned on. I tried to pretend that it was and set it on her stomach and began rubbing it back and forth over her bellybutton. she shuddered in disgust and pulled away from me while telling me calmly that this was why she hated women. they were too unsure of themselves and not aggressive enough. I was indifferent to this information and proceeded to ask her what she was going to do about the girlfriend she had in the other room. she sighed and told me that she did not know what to do because she had a male lover that she saw from time to time. a lover whose presence she was finding it increasingly more difficult to hide from her girlfriend seeing as how he was made of moths and everytime he came to visit her, he left moth residue all over the walls. She then began to tell me that fucking him was great because she could feel the moths moving inside her. as she spoke I began to look around at the walls and could see the moth carcasses stuck to the walls dead and in the final throes of dying, their bodies gyrating, their wings fluttering as their smooshed guts kept them glued to the pale yellow paint. I suddenly realized that I had to get out of there. I got up and fled from the room only to find the girl I had offended originally lying on a yellow beanbag, tears streaming from her eyes. It was then that i realized how beautiful she was. I looked at her blue green eyes framed with thick, straight dark lashes, her short dark hair shining in the light that was streaming in from the window lighting up her olive skin, bringing attention to her dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows and rosy cheeks glowing beneath the smooth light brown of her skin. I had the overwhelming urge to console her and so I crouched down, leaning into her face, smelling her scent and told her how beautiful she was. how radiant she seemed when she had tears in her eyes. she lashed out in anger and hurt and told me to leave her alone and though I wanted to stay and make her feel better, I stood, feeling my knees creak in protest and made my way out through the kitchen door and into the cold sunlight, the only thing on my mind the desire to be what I am not. a lesbian. I wanted to hold her and give her the love she needed. I wanted to hold her beauty and revel in it yet I could not because I knew that despite the moment I was in and the empathy I felt, I still craved the crass, rough sexuality of the man. always have always will...against my better judgment. against all odds and against all the past pain inflicted on my person I still crave the company and sexual attention of the man.

The funny thing about this dream is that i believe that i may not have only been myself, I may also have been the beautiful girl as well. not to say that i am beautiful but to say that I know her pain. I know what it is like to be rejected and confused.
maybe I was the curvy blond as well, dirty and confused, craving the seemingly "disgusting" touch of a man.
who knows. all I know is that the damned dream has haunted me.

the devil beats his wife.
Current mood: amused

I drove home today as the devil beat his wife. The clouds a dark curtain to the left of my vision, the bright sunny rain pouring down on the windshield of my car. I look into my rearview mirror to see the wind whipping the trees and the sun and bright clouds pushing the dark off of the horizon. In the middle of all this is a rainbow and I cannot help but smile at the idiosyncrasy of the term, "The devil's beating his wife"...because it is usually then that the sun comes out through the rain and lights up the rain water like a prism...creating what we all love most: the rainbow. which I guess could also be known as the accidental child of the devil and his wife? a little beautiful, "whoops!" haha. Maybe that is why he is beating his wife.
How ridiculous.