TMi

Every word- every elaborate concept in the English language- can be modified by and reduced to 'FUCK.' I like that very much about English. However-  What kind of blog post would this be if  I just- want you all to fuck right off into the fucking outer darkness of fucking fuck you fucking useless roostersuckers - for example? I wish I could just skip over this writing business and transmit my anxiety-depression-rage-frustration and occasional awe and elation straight into the souls of others. Because I think I am  a shit writer- my product is shit- and I am, worst of all, a shit salesman. All this shit is only worth burying because it is too embarrassing. I am a damned, embarrassing animal, chock-full of self-loathing. I should not exist. There is some good news.  During March I've made more progress in my health journey!  It is slow going building my strength back up, and even slower going with flexibility, but I have noticed subtle impr...

I have started going to a gym in that has an indoor swimming pool. This is an interesting development in my life as- heh-  I don't swim.  At all. I was never much exposed to water culture as a youth. The few times I was in water, I was not instructed on the basics of swimming. Perhaps it was as if I was supposed to just figure out how to operate my body in the water- by osmosis, or something. It certainly didn't seem to matter to anyone else if I acquired the skill or not.  So, I never got accustomed to being in water.  After my illness, just being in water is a lot for me now: I cramp at the drop of a hat, I deal with unusual muscle weakness / twitching, my back pain can be spectacular fun to work around, and I am easily overwhelmed by the sensory input of... everything.  When there is a lot of people in the pool the overwhelm happens even faster. It is more akin to being at a nightclub than one would first imagine. If I had to put my head in t...

You know you are in tune with something in the universe when- on a whim- you call your new journal book for the year Lilac Viper and then see that lilacs are featured in a new (but not so great) Nosferatu movie that keeps making itself known in my social media feeds. I connect. It connects...  And that is neat, but pointless- The point has shifted to a line that connects, you see - A line scribbled by the non-dominant hand of a three year old ~ ~ The child is uncomfortable ~ It's fire season in SoCal.  David Lynch is dead. My human (partner) continues to paint and paint (NOW IN COLOR!) and hopes a broader population will do more than stand back and gawp the work- While we both internally scream: BUY THE WORK. BUY IT.  IF YOU LIKE IT, THEN BUY IT.  How hard is this?! FFS, guys... BUY THE ART. And neither of us are greedy for a life of excesses. We aren't anywhere near that sort of existence!  We are in need.  Is that clear enough? Is the word need confusing...

  I am not sure what to write about this month anymore. I considered writing about making art no one wants, or dermatillomania- or more about trying to openly obsess over fictional characters- or quite real humans.... Then I find out my father has taken ill and had to go to the hospital to get sorted out. I'm confused by the whole matter more than scared or worried. I don't have enough information to be worried. And I don't want to get angry for not having enough information either. When other people have enough information and the wherewithal to tell me, they will do so. If they don't, then I can get angry, perhaps. Because it's not like there is anything I can do to help. I'm on the other side of the continent. Unless my dad wants to do some medical tourism, I don't know how I could be of service.  I don't know what the best thing for me to do is. At all.  Ever. I'm not ending this year on a down note. Not really. It's just a very blue note. Th...

this is an a.i. generated image that i played around with So what shall I embarrass myself with in this month's post? How about I discuss a certain kind of neurodivergence? There is this thing called a Highly Sensitive Person. And another thing call High Sensation Seeking. This is me. Both the things. A walking paradox.  Generally speaking:  "a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) is someone who experiences heightened sensitivity to external stimuli and internal emotions. This trait, known as Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS), was first coined by psychologist Elaine Aron. About 15-20% of the population are thought to be HSPs. And High Sensation Seekers (HSS) crave new and intense experiences, often seeking out thrills and adventures." Only perhaps about 30% of HSP are also HSS. That's extra minority! So am I mousy and delicate yet I want to ride a golden horse (akhal-teke!) through Anatolia? You bet. I mean, I can't tolerate loud music, strong aromas, and low lat...

October has been a month dedicated to glitchtober on instagram. (And keeping depression at bay) A s with most communities, I've been shy to interact with glitch people.  I don't know enough about programming languages, software, or hardware... Blah blah.. listen to me and my insecurities blaaahhhh- I challenged myself this time to participate in the community. And, because I am me, I made it even less relatable to anyone!  I incorporated another thing I have been appreciating recently: acting performances by Lars Mikkelsen. Yup. I like glitch.  And, yup, I have  a professional crush on Lars Mikkelsen. Why not mash these things together?  The absurdity tickled my brain. And mine alone, it seems. For glitchtober there is a prompt given each day for artists to interpret so I am guilty of spending hours combing through Lars' work for scenes to fit each prompt. (Thank the maker for pirated materials on the internet! ☠ ) Naturally, after spending a month with his char...

  I AM TOTALLY USELESS THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO AT ALL Wait- no- I can do: Dysphoria Depression Anxiety Neuromuscular issues  Invisibility i was more.. but now i don't know.. i don't know..