The Ruined City

So this is a new painting called The Ruined City. Yes, I am painting the end of the world. WELL.
Okay, It's not the end, really, just the way a really crowded crumbley city feels to me. And this is Louisiana and we know about crumbling cities.

I worked the hell out of the surface to get the cracklies in there and I am pretty happy with them.

Once a prof said to me, Ghost Girl, if no one buys your paintings it is because no one wants to be reminded that they are going to die. Bwahahhaha! Really? I think about it all the time, i always have. Not on purpose, either. I finally stopped obsessing but....i mean i still think about it. But it is only bc i LOVE BEING ALIVE (er usually) NOW. and Life tastes like strawberries and sticky sunshine kisses. But you can't just forget the cold death chill. Besides, i have seen some death and I wont forget it - it would be a dis-service to all living things to ignore it....as it would be to put death above LIVING. So love your life to death, says I. And move forward carrying your battle scarred heart. and sing a song of re-membrance and re-growth. Bc out of the ruins, we will rise.

Pretty New Drug.(and more lotus pods)

Some people dont have proper boundaries. Between themselves and other people or places or events or nature and it just gets so intensely close that the damn sunset might as well be INSIDE your heart. 
like jesus. 
but not really. 
This is the south. I can joke about jesus. and fishing. and dipping skoal and marrying your cousin. bc i do, in fact, work with a woman who is married to her first cousin. But the lady at the local college is a published poet who studied under Anne Sexton. This is a weird, jumbled up town.
Between the plantations, and 2 strips of fast food joints there is the moldy movie theatre and the 18th century graveyard.


The tattoo shop opened near a historical marker for the First American Fort ...located between the 17th century french fort and the spanish fort. and then down the road, near hte newspaper where i work, is where they put a marked down for the Native American burial ground the archaeology students dug up. I pass it on the way to work. Usually while i am eating breakfast. I eat in my car. I always do. Makes it less real. I would rather have lotus pods in my stomach than granola high fiber low fat sugar free all natural what-have-you.


30 Days Of Strattera. That is the movie i'm starring in right this minute. I called the doc to tell her that the sample packet was used up and we needed to plan a new course of action. I had a 3 page report in my head called What Strattera Did To Me and was ready to deliver it. Instead of the doc, i got the receptionist who said, "look, is it working? bc if so, we will just call you in a script." i stammered, "yes but..."  "okay, what is your pharmacy?"
oh yeah. I forgot. No one cares so much about the 2 lists I made; one of pros and one of cons.
"Rite Aid." "Okay-we'll-call-it-in-right-nowthankyoubye."


I understand that my neurotransmitters are just a very small facet of your JOB but, jesus, lady.
This is serious business for me. I dont take drugs lightly (anymore) esp not Big Giant Heartless Corp Manufactured drugs. Okay one more month. 30 more days. We shall see....


....until the lotus blooms inside me.

Lotus Pods

 

For some reason, I am having a terrible time formatting my blog posts.  Ugh. So here is a picture of my new goodwill dress. You like?
• i LOVE clothes. not in a fashion designer model-y sense but in a color texture pattern art sense.

I mean, i don't pay so much attention to what it is "in this season" as much as i get excited about visually stimulating things. like im in a COSTUME SHOP. And i LOVE shopping at goodwill,  I love diggin around in used clothes - I am not a germaphobe at all, but i can see where if you were, secondhand clothes could freak you out. A Lot.

So in the background you can see my new

watercolor - nude and lotus pods. Here it is closer. The design is off, but i was just practicing and ended up liking the figure. And i love those lotus pods. they rattle, and each little seed is is all enclosed in its own little pod.

All Tore Up

I love my Dog. But sometimes.
She is very. very. very.
Bad.
and likes to TEAR UP.

Like this painting that she obviously didn't like.

I am so tired.
I went to a meeting after work today.
A meeting of people who are trying to start a local nonprofit dog fostering/shelter program.

I am participating.  
in real LIFE.


Yesterday,  I went to lunch with one of my old professors and we had the grad school discussion.  Again.
He says, you know, if you don't want to eventually teach,
there is no point in getting the mfa (i have an ma)
See, that is the problem with me and Starting Things.
i don't start things that have ENDS. or GOALS. i just randomly DO THINGS.
and .....end up far out in the empty space between a star, a rib, and a blink of your an eye...
or rather lost in the purple lines beneath my own...