Dear evolution: Please hurry

Oh wow, I have nothing but sympathy and love for veterans of combat zones. I just wish there weren’t so many of them. It inflicts a soul injury to kill or see violence like that. Different people respond in different ways to trauma, some better than others. We have so many military veterans who are coming back broken and soul sick. It’s heartbreaking.

It’s pretty upsetting to see how many parts of the world are still at war. All those generations of trauma. I’m sure a million stoners have said it, but I don’t see why the Western states don’t start growing tons of weed and hemp, and mass exporting it. Flood the war zones with a drug that will chill them the fuck out. There’s so much anger and hatred and hot tempers, but we have weed and hemp and good communication skills…? Surely war isn’t as profitable as other options would be. I understand that the issues are complicated, but nothing will ever get resolved as long as people keep killing each other. Geez, evolve already.

It’s all politics and insanity that I just don’t understand. I just know that ignorant assholes with weapons are standing between me and an archaeology tour of ancient Mesopotamia and the Mediterranean. Well, and money too. Damn little green pieces of paper. Luckily those little green pieces of paper can be exchanged for other, more delightful green things. I really recommend weed as part of the treatment for PTSD and emotional trauma. It’s been very helpful in moderation. I can’t do much, but I can help people with weed and cake. People helped me, it’s the least I can do, and that’s how I pay it forward. Thank goodness for gratitude and baked goods.
Shit’s still messy here, but at least I’ve never been in a combat zone. Life is hard enough as it is. I can’t imagine trying to live normally after being in war. So today’s mantra is: Compassion and patience (the latter is definitely my most challenging lesson).

Love to all

War- Edwin Starr
Soldiers- ABBA
Come In Out Of The Pain- Doug Stone
Eye Of The Tiger- Survivor

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I do adore technology, but I’m frequently described as “retro” because I listen to the radio, still use an ipod, I have tons of cassette tapes, and I treasure my stacks of vinyl records. I think I even have an old 8 track rattling around somewhere. My computers are ancient, most of my equipment is outdated, and I had no intention of getting a damn smartphone for quite a while. My current phone is fantastic, indestructible, and super cheap, and I’ve had it for a long time. However. With the new job at the newspaper, it quickly became apparent that a lack of technology would leave me lagging behind.
I’m finally surrendering to the technological wave- it really was only a matter of time. Now I have to decide: keep my old phone number, or shed it? I think I might be ready, even though it’s going to be a major pain in the ass to change my number everywhere.
And yes, I’m totally getting one of those phone covers that looks like a cassette tape. It’s good to hold on to some things from the past, and I don’t mind being retro. Sometimes low tech works when nothing else does.
Love to all

Note the Brandenburg Concertos right next to Rage Against The Machine :)

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Snow in the summertime


Last night I went for a late stroll to get over my stressful day, and again walked by a cute cabinet full of free pottery. The artist left a slot for donations, and I had put a few dollars in last week without taking anything. Last night he was out arranging it, so I introduced myself and told him how much I loved the concept. He was so pleased that he insisted that I take a piece. I had been scoping out this one because I love winter, love the snow, and it’s a beautiful thing to contemplate on a hot summer night. It was a lovely end to the day; some exercise, some art, and meeting a random artist. Yay!

Everything Chopin ever composed, Vivaldi as well
Dangerous- Big Data
Rain In The Summertime- The Alarm
Call To Your Heart- Giuffria
Nikita- Elton John

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Dear humans: Please stop killing each other

I have this new fantasy of running a group of guerilla artists with passports. I dream of dropping all of us into areas that are bombed out wreckage, and having all these different kinds of artists create something healing and beautiful. It’s not realistic, but never underestimate the healing power of art. We’d need major funding and it would be best to bring humanitarian aid and supplies with us- it really would take a huge community to make it happen.
It’s just so depressing to see humans still hurting and killing each other. I think we’ve evolved beyond that, but human behavior hasn’t caught up yet. Still banging the rocks together and killing with whatever weapons are available. In my perfect world, we grow hemp, build spaceships, and make art or otherwise pursue happiness in safety. Yeah, I know I’m dreaming, but I believe in miracles and magic, and the amazing power of humans to do incredible things.

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Beautiful world

Well, at least when I’m biking in the dark, no one can see how hard I’m crying. It was an exhausting ride home; I was already stressed and sad. When I feel well and strong, I can manage it just fine- it becomes a fun challenge to conquer my fear of the dark. Other times it’s a battle to not see danger in every shadow. I have to work extra hard to stay calm and not keep looking over my shoulder and jumping at every noise.

I had one cigarette at work, and tried to find my zen even though my boss was on a major crazy roll. I’m doing so much better, I’ve come so far, and it sucks to have this horribly abusive relationship still in my life. I’ve gotten rid of the rest that were unhealthy, and this is the last remnant. Like always, I have a hard time letting go when I’ve formed an emotional bond.

Speaking of bonding with unhealthy people, I’m pretty sure my ex rolled by me on my way home (as I was crying, and battling up a hill- awesome timing universe). He’s spectacularly unobservant, so I doubt he noticed me ducking my head and flipping him off. It wasn’t good of me, especially since I wasn’t even sure it was him. I couldn’t look. It’s just one more spoiled white dude, passing judgment from their narrow minded position of money and power. There’s so many like him, it makes me nauseous. Selfish, focused only on their dollars and assets, not giving a fuck about their community or anyone else in it. On the other hand, I care too much and I’m broke as fuck and barely surviving, so who’s really right?

I think the thing I most resent about not having money, is that it severely limits my volunteer work- it’s super depressing to have to focus on survival when there are so many more worthwhile things I could be doing while I’m here. I push it so hard, get so little sleep and have such severe depression- I’m likely to drop at any moment. I wish I could do a lot more good before it happens. I feel so tiny and useless compared to the massive problems facing humans all over the planet right now.

Sometimes things are still so heartbreaking and overwhelming that I think I can’t possibly survive- and then I read the news and see how strong and resilient the human spirit is, despite the most horrific of happenings. I made a promise to stick it out until the end, so I just have to cling to whatever inspiration and hope I can find. Luckily it’s everywhere.

Today my mantra is a simple one: gratitude


Empty Garden (Hey Hey Johnny)- Elton John

Hand To Hold On To- John Cougar Mellencamp

Beautiful World- Devo

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Chemistry lessons

“Chemistry that makes the utterly inappropriate artistic [and sexy] as hell.” That’s my favorite quote right now- it’s from some random dude.

I wish I had something brilliant to say, words that could unlock the doors and open the way for wonderful things to happen. Worry is creeping in, that I will be unable to write anything even remotely witty, unless I can have some great sex soon. Sweaty, panting, maybe some icing involved, and super hot. It feels like I’m becoming one of those uptight beige suburban moms, with no edge or color at all. I’m sure that’s all in my head. I remind myself that I live right in the middle of a thriving city full of artists, and my immediate surroundings are exploding with beautiful colors, forms, creativity of all sorts. I’m increasing my artistic odds by living here, not getting married, not having kids, and going unmedicated. Theoretically, I have a better chance of producing some interesting art and/or writing. In reality, I feel totally, unequivocally stuck. Is this how men are, thinking about sex all the time? It’s completely distracting.

I really like my new friend’s brain, but I’m not attracted to his physical form quite yet. He’s made it very clear that he’s interested in sex. I admit to having a wicked little teasing laugh when I mentioned that I’m in the middle of a year without sex. I finally found the right excuse to keep the dudes away while I debate their merits, it’s perfect. I never quite got the hang of saying no, even when I really wanted to. It didn’t always matter if I did anyway. Now I talk about patience and abstinence and the dudes just melt away when they see they won’t get laid quickly. I know I emit super strong sexual signals, but it doesn’t mean I want to jump into bed with everyone. I do love sex, I think orgasms are fantastic between two or more consenting adults. I understand that not everyone sees it the same way, which is totally tragic. As an artist, I appreciate how great sex can unlock the muse, and all the happy chemicals do wonders for my depression/PTSD. Well, as long as the dude doesn’t trigger anything, which is a whole other story.

Crap, maybe I’ll see if my new friend just wants to play doctor. I would still technically be going without sex, but a little adult naughty play time is exactly what I need. A few big O’s might help things along. I keep hoping that if I push myself hard enough in healthy directions, beyond what I think I can do, perhaps I will finally have another positive mental breakthrough. They are way more fun than the negative ones, so I’m super driven and motivated to go for the +++.

My tarot readings lately have been all about dramatic transformation and I think this is my wish: I want a hemp farm. Not even weed, just hemp. I could write from there, paint, do everything I need, and my soul would have the solace of being out of the city and back in the rural countryside that I miss. The great thing about a farm- and I have it all planned out- there are always a ton of projects and physical labor to keep you busy. And the city is never that far away, plus the internet puts so much of life at your fingertips anyway. I also decided that I should never be isolated, so I would bring people with me, and create a fun community of family and visitors. Artist retreats, cooking weekends, there’s so many possibilities. It gives me a long term goal, the idea of owning a hobby farm someday. I never really had a long term life goal before. I guess there’s something to be said for bottoming out- you have to start everything from the beginning.

I’ve said it before, but here it is again: Reality is not always as fabulous as I expect it to be, dammit anyway, but here’s to the power of love and art for healing. May the positive things we do, change the chemicals in our brain, and change our world for the better.

Do What You Want- Lady Gaga
I Can Dream About You- Dan Hartman
Missing- Everything But The Girl
Oh Lonesome Me- Kentucky Headhunters
Against All Odds- Phil Collins
The Chemicals Between Us- Bush
Mutual Surrender- Bourgeois Tagg
Come And Talk To Me- Jodeci
Use Me Up- Bill Withers

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The tuck and roll

When my date finished pontificating and swearing about the volume of the comedian onstage competing with him, he asked “You wanna get out of here?”, I guess he expected me to want to jump in his gaudy car and worship him and his horrible art or something. I said enthusiastically “Why yes I do! It was nice to meet you.” And walked right out the door. The tuck and roll, it’s my favorite maneuver even though it’s terrible manners and not my preferred MO. Dating is warfare, and the rules aren’t even as polite as on a battleground. It’s a rough place to be a romantic idealist.

Speaking of that, here’s pictures from the wedding cake assembly yesterday. I’m glad there are some people who are finding love and happiness, it gives me hope to see it around me, in whatever form it appears.

Tired Of Being Sorry- Ringside
Super Trooper- ABBA
Love Is A Battlefield- Pat Benatar





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Love song for a car

I know there aren’t any problems, only challenges. I knew my situation wasn’t sustainable, and I’ve been slowly working on changing it. I guess I didn’t go fast enough, or conserve my resources well enough, because I’ve come to the time of letting go, and I’m not ready at all. It’s not wise to get attached to material things, and I know I’m ridiculously blessed to have had her as long as I have. I just feel the most intense sense of grief. I love my car so much- she’s much more than just a vehicle. She’s my freedom, my safety, and my back up home if my depression derails my life again. I don’t want to let her go.
Since I can’t do anything to change it right now, and even looking at her makes me start crying, this is my love letter for my car:

Dear A,

Thank you for all your years of hard work and devotion. I loved each and every one of the times we went camping, kayaking, hiking in the Gorge, and running out to the nude beaches. You were always reliable and I knew I could depend on you when nothing else in my life was constant. When I had terrible panic attacks or depression, you always took me to a safe place, whether to the woods or to people who could help.
I had a wonderful time on our cross country road trip, and I appreciated that we both sang the whole way and my singing never got on your nerves. It was glorious how you took my bike, kayak, and all my gear without a word of complaint. It was heavenly traveling with you, and even sleeping with you a few times. Oh the times we’ve toured around, just driving with the windows down and the music up. The stereo I finally installed that made you rock a little harder. Speaking of that, thank you for hosting the doctor and I when I decided I needed to christen you to purge the energy of my yuppie ex-fiance. Thank you for never telling anyone about some of the other naughty stories. Thank you for never passing judgment on some of the idiot guys I kissed around you. I’m so glad you never got jealous about all the other cars I drooled over, or how I got your seat wet whenever we went by the classic auto dealership.
I love your sexy little manual transmission, and how fun you look with the extra antenna (We’re both glad I took the CB one off, it was too much). I love that you are practical but sporty, and completely ubiquitous here since there are a zillion almost exactly like you in the area. None as cool though.
I love that you are nice enough to go anywhere, but messy enough to never get harassed or broken into. I am so sorry that it took me so long to figure out the hubcap issue, but damn they look beautiful on you now. I hope I can find you a happy home where they will adore you as much as I did. With some love, I know you can keep going for quite a while longer.
It’s been 121,000 miles we’ve been together, and I wanted it to be forever. I know you’re tired- you have 211,000 on you, and that’s a lot. It’s not fair for me to ask you to keep going when I can’t take care of you properly. I love you so much that I just don’t want to go on without you, and I can’t imagine a future without you in it. No one will ever be able to replace you. I suppose I can figure out what to do now, but life without you is going to be much…more challenging. I’m so sad to lose you, and honestly, I just want to give up. I know I can’t beg you to stay, we’d both end up only feeling worse. I’ll keep trying to figure out a solution, and in the meantime sweetheart, take a rest for a while. I found you a shady spot where you can relax and not feel pressured to do anything. I’ll come check on you to make sure you’re ok, and fingers crossed for the future. Sweet dreams.

Loss is part of life. Lots of people manage with much less, and I’ve been lucky to have a car at all. Damn though. I wish fairy godmothers really did exist. I don’t need the dress, the ball, or the social vindication. I just would like the carriage. And maybe a pumpkin or two to cook with. Ok, ok, I would love the dress too, as long as it’s practical and not that foofy.

You Might Think- The Cars
I Will Always Love You- Whitney Houston

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The skin you are in

Holy shit, I finally figured out the power of the boobs. Cleavage is empowering!!! I wish I’d discovered this years and years ago, but I was too busy hiding it so I wouldn’t be victimized again. I love my physical form, but I have mixed feelings about showing it in public.
On the other hand, my brilliant costume designer friends have reminded me that presentation is everything. If humans can’t get over how you look, work with that. If they can’t get beyond your artfully displayed skin and costume, then mess with their head to expand their awareness! It’s ridiculous how humans treat each other based on how we cover our bodies.

Today, I’m much more uncovered. It’s too hot to wear clothes and if my car weren’t so sick right now, I would totally be at the beach, naked and swimming around in the river.

I think it would help me feel baptized and strong, ready to battle the wolves of depression that I see gathering in the distance. It may sound weird to say this, but I frequently feel blessed that I have such a severe mental illness. It’s often agonizing, but I am able to think creatively outside the box, and that is an enormous gift. Add some cleavage as a distraction, and I will slip through unnoticed, threading a little warm and fuzzy art in wherever I can.

DISCLAIMER- Pardon my redneck roots on the first one:

Titties and Beer- Rodney Carrington
Hard Out Here- Lily Allen
Skin- Oingo Boingo
Big Green Tractor- Jason Aldean
Pontoon- Little Big Town

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Tools to battle the tools

I don’t believe in a muse, strictly speaking. However, I think the three pilots were my strongest creative motivation. That’s a hilarious concept, and I bet it would piss them off even more to know that- it wouldn’t sit well with their frat boy mentality. I realized that if they hadn’t been so despicable, I doubt I would have been so motivated to finally start writing. I’ve considered myself a writer forever, but I rarely took the words out of my head and transferred them to another medium. It was only because I was so devastated, so frustrated, that I finally started using writing as an every day kind of tool. A tool to battle the tools, so to speak. I think I’m going to be laughing about that one for a long time. Even though the situation wasn’t funny at all. Given how upset the one fighter pilot was, I’d guess that my brilliantly written letter threw a giant wrench into their misogynist frat boy ways. Yay. What kind of grown men paint a giant phallus on the roof of their building??? Seriously, are all men as primitive as the apelike roofers I worked with? Deeeeepressing!

Oh well, it’s just kind of funny to think about, now that I’ve clawed my way back into life. People have no problem doing evil things, being bullies and completely shitty. But the one thing that doesn’t go over well? Publicly calling them out on their shit. I have inspired a lot of passionate responses in my life, both good and bad. But making a fighter pilot lose his cool? I guess I just have a gift. lmfao.

I’m off to go for a beautiful bike ride in the sun, and I’m looking forward to sweating out some toxins. Exercise does seem to loosen up the flow of creativity and let the ideas come out better. Good thing too, since there are a lot of assholes out there and I can’t be silent any longer. It’s not always true, especially since there are tons of ignorant apes out there, but sometimes, just sometimes- the pen really can be mightier than the sword.

Love to all


Dangerous- Big Data

After All- Collective Soul

It’s No Good- Depeche Mode

Shattered- OAR

Unbreak My Heart- Toni Braxton

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