Going to hell!!

oh i love the bastard fairies!

Easter

Easter Saturday. We went Greenhousing!
Im gonna plant snapdragons, soon

Louisiana Wedding

Jacob came in for his brother's wedding. It was out in Natchez at this awesome modern plantation style house. And the weather was gorgeous.

the coveted cuff

shoe•shine•time

i have too many shoes to store reasonably in a closet plus, i think they are pretty so i put them on a shelf in the liv room so i can see them...okay that also keeps them away from a puppy who thinks she is Vlad the Impaler to Shoes.
i really only like cheap shoes though
these are courtesy walmart in jena, Payless, Payless, and Nichols in winnfield. god i love nichols. The chooka rubber boots were actually 40 bucks but i live in the boggy south and my backyard floods so... it was a great investment. i was calling my ankle boots the brett micheals boots (like cheap rock n roll) but im changing that to the punk princess shoes. as in Patti smith not avril lavigne.

Fashionfreak;Its in the details

So i love braclets and now i am loving to wrap ribbons around my wrists and then put bracelets OVER them. i like chunky featurers on wrists/ankles alot. Once reason is bc it like bondage to your LIFE. being tied to yourself. Typing and moving and doing work is more difficult wiht these cumbersome weights..makes you more aware of your body and surroundings.
when i was going through this long drawn out break up one summer i had about 15 ankle bracelets on each ankle. ribbon, hemp, wire, jewelry, string...all different colors. Strips of fabrick i cut off of clothes.. i would just tie them on me. it was symbolic but ended up looking really cool (to me.) and one day i was walking across campus in flat flip flops and some boy said, "i like your heels." Not what yu normally hear from a boy on campus. it took me a minute to realize he meant my ankles. (anatomy?) anyway later at the end of hte summer i cut htem all off. my ankes were so furry from not being able to shave underneath. .... such a witch, even when it comes to getting dressed. Isnt that a great green bracelet? my mom gave it to me, what is a good name for that green? grannygreen?

im in love with a strict machine

ouch ouch ouch
i got these at payless so you KNOW they hurt. they look awesome though. i think ill wear them for washing dishes. a painful task anyway.
but the black fur - that is lil eleanor. and she says shoes are for chewing.

painting takes dough

$165.65 worth of acrylic paint and medium....and i still need brushes. BUT I LOVE COBALT TEAL!!!! AND QUINACRADONE SIENNA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

messy girls

need THIS!!! He can suck up anything!!
and he could be a messy ADD disorganized person's best friend.
He will suck up the 1/2 of yr breakfast that is in a trail from the kitchen to couch to bedroom and even sawdust!!! He even sucked up my friend George!!
plus..this lil shop vac was only 30 bucks!!

green and red

Shoes from goodwill 3.99. Adding 3inches to my 5'5 shortness is priceless. And what esle is priceless is a free visit with this little green guy. He was hanging out on the Natchitoches Times door...and he gave me a word of peace with his bright green existence!!

stephen crane

The Wayfarer

The wayfarer,
Perceiving the pathway to truth,
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said,
"I see that none has passed here
In a long time."
Later he saw that each weed
Was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last,
"Doubtless there are other roads."

AND NOW ONE OF MY FAVORITE POEMS EVER:

In the Desert

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter -- bitter," he answered;
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

Stephen Crane

In Heaven

In heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
"What did you do?"
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind,
Ashamed.
Presently, God said,
"And what did you do?"
The little blade answered, "Oh my Lord,
Memory is bitter to me,
For, if I did good deeds,
I know not of them."
Then God, in all His splendor,
Arose from His throne.
"Oh, best little blade of grass!" He said

Stephen Crane (1871 - 1900)


Stephen Crane was the last of 14 children born to a Methodist minister who died when he was nine. As a child he moved three times in the New York area. Crane never cared much for schooling, but he did attend Syracuse University - although only for one semester, and his most noteworthy accomplishments were performed on the baseball field. He lived the down-and-out life of a penniless artist who became well known as a poet, journalist, social critic and realist. His contemoraries noted him as being an "original" in his field of work.

War and other forms of physical and mental violence fascinate Crane. He began writing for newspapers in 1891 when he settled in New York where he developed his powers as an observer of psychological and social reality. After he wrote Red Badge of Courage, which earned Crane international acclaim at age 24, he was hired as a reporter in the American West and Mexico. At the age of 27, Crane moved to Jacksonville, Florida and got married. While in Jacksonville, his boat The Commodore sank off the coast and he wrote about the harrowing adventure in The New York Press. Crane covered the Greco-Turkish War and later settled in England where he made friends with famous writers of the time including H.G. Wells and Henry James. He later covered the Spanish-American War for Joseph Pulitzer's New York World. During the last few years of his life, he began writing furiously because he was in debt and suffering from tuberculosis. He later died while he was in Germany.
http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/stephencrane/

the addict

days that start like this
everyday
swallow the plastic pill.
everyone does, i know.
my last experience with detoxing
from the human pesticide
was grim and inside i know
i cant do it again.
and it gnaws at me.

im just abundle of chemicals
organic wires as nerves
so are we all.
i walk a very very thin line i guess
im balancing on a little blue pill
i wont totally give in either direction
i need the struggle maybe?
id ont know.
i just know
i pay money to a coorporate government
for a pill to make
it okay for me to live and breathe
in this bullshit global marektplace
w/out weeping for hours everyday
i swallow willingly now
but i used to fight.


The Addict by Anne Sexton

Sleepmonger,
deathmonger,
with capsules in my palms each night,
eight at a time from sweet pharmaceutical bottles
I make arrangements for a pint-sized journey.
I'm the queen of this condition.
I'm an expert on making the trip
and now they say I'm an addict.
Now they ask why.
WHY!

Don't they know that I promised to die!
I'm keping in practice.
I'm merely staying in shape.
The pills are a mother, but better,
every color and as good as sour balls.
I'm on a diet from death.

Yes, I admit
it has gotten to be a bit of a habit-
blows eight at a time, socked in the eye,
hauled away by the pink, the orange,
the green and the white goodnights.
I'm becoming something of a chemical
mixture.
that's it!

My supply
of tablets
has got to last for years and years.
I like them more than I like me.
It's a kind of marriage.
It's a kind of war where I plant bombs inside
of myself.

Yes
I try
to kill myself in small amounts,
an innocuous occupatin.
Actually I'm hung up on it.
But remember I don't make too much noise.
And frankly no one has to lug me out
and I don't stand there in my winding sheet.
I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie
eating my eight loaves in a row
and in a certain order as in
the laying on of hands
or the black sacrament.

It's a ceremony
but like any other sport
it's full of rules.
It's like a musical tennis match where
my mouth keeps catching the ball.
Then I lie on; my altar
elevated by the eight chemical kisses.

What a lay me down this is
with two pink, two orange,
two green, two white goodnights.
Fee-fi-fo-fum-
Now I'm borrowed.
Now I'm numb.

sensory,

photoshop deleted my paintings.
they said they violated terms.
whatever.
fuckers.

i went and tried on lots of different shoes on my lunch break.
i didnt buy any just teetered about in tall heels that i am to0 broke to buy.
i have on purple socks.

and red shoes i love red shoes i love
rope
ribbon
clove cigarrettes
beetles
red wine
dogs.
colors.
handmade paper
dragon flies
toenail polish - red black or pink
kisses
dirt
green green gras
being underwater
fitting into small spaces
ladybugs
millipedes
spiders wih babies on their back
webs with dew drops
bracelets
incense
carving
lipstick
blood
racoons
knives
bones
skulls
black eyed susans
stars
poems
fruit pinapples pears cherries grapes
patchouli
silver rings
marshmallow creme
pills
candles
tree bark
leaves
crickets
frogs
ponds
wading
sisters
photography
pretending
white zombie
white nightgowns
lace
burlap
secrets
rust
empty old houses
blood
psychology
myths
scars
trunks
keys
locks
vines
moss
gauze
touching
thorns
petals
nothing makes sense today im organizing ideas

i wanna girl too sad to give a fuck

ILOVE THIS SONG
LOVER I DONT HAVE TO LOVE
I picked you out
Of a crowd and talked to you.
Said I liked your shoes,
You said, "Thanks, Can I follow you?"

So it's up the stairs,
And out of view. No prying eyes.
I poured some wine.
I asked your name;
You asked the time.

Now it's two o'clock.
The club is closed,
We are up the block.
Your hands are on me,
Pressing hard against your jeans,
Your tongue in my mouth,
Trying to keep the words from coming out,
You didn't care to know
Who else may have been you before.

I want a lover I don't have to love,
I want a girl who's too sad to give a fuck.
Where's the kid with the chemicals?
I thought he said to meet him here,
But I'm not sure.
I've got the money
If you've got the time.
He said, "It feels good."
I said "I'll give it a try."

Then my mind went dark,
We both forgot where your car was parked.
Let's just take the train.
I'll meet up with the band in the morning

Bad actors, with bad habits...
Some sad singers, they just play tragic.
And the phone is ringing,
And the van is leaving
Let's just keep touching,
Let's just keep...keep singing

I want a lover I don't have to love,
I want a boy who's so drunk he doesn't talk.
Where's the kid with the chemicals?
I got a hunger and I can't seem to get full.
I need some meaning I can memorize.
The kind I have always seems to slip my mind.

But you, but you...

You write such pretty words,
But life's no storybook.
Love's an excuse to get hurt.
And to hurt.
Do you like to hurt?
I do, I do.
Then hurt me,
Then hurt me,
Then hurt me

Fripps island, i remember

summmer was...
this.

bonescar

Bonescar.
i want to see my bones.
no really.
sometimes my heart feels so goddman broken.
its getting colder
outside
im a summmerchild
winters are hard
for the birdgirls.
My bones feel strange
they have strings...
strings tied to old things
that dont even exist anymore.
yes my bones are tied to ghosts
like the waking dead.

funeral in july

i almost made the casket drop....
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural


Last year i did a painting called Waiting Ones

alot of people think it is sad

what do youthink?

http://www.shawnaatkinsart.blogspot.com/

i was thinking about this painting

bc i have been dreaming of my great uncle

who died around this time last year.

He left me with books and poems he wrote.

ineIn the dream we was lowering his casket into the ground

with red velvet ropes... but mine got hung up on the wooden roller and got uneven. i almost made the casket DROP. he was heavy

after he died i dreamed him ALOT. the week before he died i had some images of my paintings and a letter to send him

but i never did

it has always felt so unfinished.

i dont believe in the streets of gold

type of reunion

but all our energy, from the stardust we started out as to the petals leaves, air and dirt we become.. the energy...has to reconnect at some time or anotherwether we know it or not..must nt it?

iwas supposed to take some dirt, from the dugdemona river back to his grave.

i never did

anyone want to take a road trip Tehaucana TExas to pour mud on a dead mans grave

so happy!

I am so happy. I did like 4 paintings last night. It felt so good, i had been sooo locked up, creatively, since the Tech thing. As i was working, i was aware of things that needed to be improved, but i could not help but think "i do TOO have skills!!" Some of my paintings, i LOVE them. i think they are beautiful even if i see 2 or 3 spots that need work. And i honeslty do not CARE at all what anyone else in the whole world thinks. Some of them I HATE and see them as a manifestation of everything that is wrong with me. But as i was working, i was just like - i know what im doing. i know exactly what im doing. I experimented with painting with coffee over compressed charcoal. It was fun and different. It made it so hard to come into work today, though, to leave my nest of creative freedom where i can carve new paths out of realitly to the drudge and dull boredom of routine work and fussiness.. At least my boss is awesome, he is a real art person. i cannot complain too much. i will be leaving soon, too, but not soon enouogh....focus on the plan...... focus on the path.....see it crystalize..

buzz brain

so i have been reading more blogs in my downtime at work and (okay when i should prolly be working) adn i have linked to some interesting ones. i dont really know blog protocol - can you just link to whoever you want? do they KNOW you linked to them?! I do more on my myspace (or as my mom says yourspace) blog than on here bc more people see it and i want to discuss all this cultural/science JUNK i find but its like nobody wants to talk about it. People respond more when i do sme bleeding heart bullshit like "i got dissed at TECH". - Which is NICE and i appreciate that adn i appreciate the fact i have found friends through the online community (esp since iwas so techno/internet phobic fer soooolong) but later i alwasy feel like such a loser for having this emotional explosion on the frikin internet. Its hilarious - what blogging and myspace is - this cultural phenomenon... How i blog things i would NEVER say to people who (may) read what i write. It so changes perspectives.... Im late to the internet game, i was late to the email game (Hell i still play cassette tapes) Itis fascinating though - all matrix like. We make these "personas" online, they could be like masks - as true or as foreign to your real self as you want. What if they started interacing online w/out us knowing??. our Online personas that is. Hee hee. So yeah when i freak out and blog sumthing that seems important at the moment and then later im like, "oh yeah...that happened..." i have to resist the urge to delete it. i try not to though. Bc this blog thing this internet thing its liek im participating in some collective experiment. I burn an event into the interweb adn then leave it there...technology is terrifying. cell phones still freak me out. text messaging especially. i can do a painting, photograph it, email it my sister who is 3 states away and she can SEE within minutes what i just painted....12 hours away.....wow. my brain is buzzin