TMi

Summertime in a climate privileged location doesn't mean krayt spit when your house is a godless two-in-one solar convection oven / shack. It’s been consistently about 80(f) and over during the day inside. I try to pretend I am in Miami again. That doesn't help much. Miami is even more godless than this place. And have I been showing signs of the heat stress? Oh, you bet! All the things loose their meaning when the body must focus extensively on maintaining homeostasis. Even grief turns into a distant ooze.  I was going to write about the sudden death of beloved Sir Not-Calling-Himself-Nigel, Sam Neill– the New Zealand actor. He was such a good egg, and a wealth of inspiration. He didn't know me, I didn't know him, but I am grateful for the work he left behind. His Merlin is the bestest Merlin, his several psychotic characters live in my happy place along with Hannibal Lecter because he made them just as memorable. He was always a cozy presence to me; even...

Ah, June a delightful month. Full of birthdays (I know too many Gemini), father’s day, the summer solstice, men's mental health awareness… the celebrating of slaves getting  unslaved  two whole years and a bit after the  unslavatud e oficial ....  It's a whole month for a lot of people to stop concentrating on how awful it is that there are others in the world who are vastly different than they are, and focus on human rights, perhaps? Because what even are human rights anymore? June for the Baja frontier has been, shall we say, Pantone color *Mortally Red #ED1827.5 (*not an actual Pantone color). Very intentional deaths have ramped up to about a murder nearly every single day. I am no social studies genius, but this paroxysm juuuuust might have to do with that upset Mexico experienced way back in February when a cartel leader was taken out. “Power vacuums are awesome!” I declare out of nowhere with both thumbs energetically up and a shit...

I was doing some paper collaging recently and in the moment wondered why it felt so appropriate to have a workspace strewn with paper cuttings. Then I remembered my mom would have a pile of papers at the table. She went through them, carefully select something that was meaningful, and tear or cut it out and place it in another pile of papers to be later traded in for discounts on goods or services. As many others in the US, my mom clipped coupons out of newspapers, flyers, magazines, wherever. This was another activity that became added to the list of things that one did as a good house wife on a tight budget. My mom did this exercise. As if it could save the family… Something. If one put in the time to hunt through advertising for the right scrap of paper and turned it in at the right store, within the right time frame, one could exchange a coupon for something of much greater value. Like magic. Apart from coupon clipping, my mom also made these reinforced, cut out paper dolls for me....

  W elpy-welp. I’ve officially arrived at the ass end of the snake year. The boulevard outside my door was soaked in pooling sewer filth from the 27th of December to about January 20th. The snake has incontinence in it’s old age. Or it is terrified of the coming hooves of the next year. I remember once being at a picnic with my family on some bright New England day. I don't know who spotted it, but we– us kids got excited about finding a snake nearby. I believe I was the quickest one and was able to catch the garter snake with my hands. I did not keep hold of it for very long. It was terrified of being snatched up out of the grass by a child and it wet me in defense. And it 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓀 . I remember the talk turn immediately to best practices for nullifying strong animal odors, skunk smells especially. Tomato juice seemed to be top of the list. We did not have that available– and perhaps orange juice was used instead? I have trouble remembering if it was me who actually caught a wild...

artist: Peter Halley At the top of this month I went to Art Basel Miami. Not the whole Miami art week extra satellite show whateverness, but the Art Basel Miami fair itself. There were over 280 booths full of eye candy to match that vase you have or that vice you have. Oh, OK, it wasn't all vacuous. I remember seeing a large circular wall hanging that caught my attention because it was made out of hammered bullet casings arranged to look like scales on a shield– the offensive killing thing made into a beautiful defensive thing. I liked that. I needed to carry that beautiful defense with me to block out the dog and donkey shows in the “new media” section though. I am sure you can guess the dog reference. It was all over the new outlets stealing undeserved attention. Unfortunately, there was another exhibit that was even more... 'adding to the problem.'  Just imagine being too poor to live in your own country, and this artless cryptobrosephus billionaire is standing next to...

That I have been depressed and bitter for the past few months is understating.  Perhaps I should have remained silent for having nothing nice to say, but no. I have to go on being that wretched thing trying to express itself; a thing all determined to make monthly posts to prove that it is steadfast in a... craft. And if it's trash, then it's trash. That was my best at the time. Everyone has to take a shit. I too will be forgiven for stinking up a room?  These days have been brighter and I can share what my dopamine depression distraction was this time. My hormonal state was balanced enough for me to nudge back toward educational amusement; which got me to where my goring complaints about existence could lose their brute force, and the knife throwing more nerfed than dodgeball. Heh, my complaints would have sparkling  brut  force then? Languages are fascinating. I can and do get caught up in thinking about the way people attach sounds to objects, ideas, acti...

Photo by Tara Winstead Another month. Another block of time in which stress tries to distresses me into a smaller state of being. Given the [colorful negative descriptor insert] situations here, there, and everywhere, it's been one more rough month for my mental health. My original post was going to delve into the hows and whys it's of this mental health roughness– hit you with the TMI of PMDD and other ugliness of my long recovery– I wrote out a whole post then I scrapped it; wrote another post, and scrapped that; deleted the bulk of this post, rewrote it twenty times because: "I don't write s'good, 'n' less good after what-all I've been through. I ain't good. I ain't– I don't got the it. I just don't. My thinkin' don't got no more ken. Must be... It's them inexcapable facts o'bein' stricken-like. Plus goin' unesteemed by them uppities. It's a why I can't get no renumerate. I'm broke flat. Just no goo...

In southern California / Baja California it has been very humid and rainy this month which unusual, in my experience.  I suppose it's part of the weather shift the call La Niña... Aw, look at me talking about the weather! How cute.  I'm avoiding US theee sociopolitical discussions by talking about the weather.   Or am I? Is this code? Sure it's code!  All language is code, silly-goose-head! The code word I thought about "virtue-signaling" for in this post was some made-up thing called... oh what is it now... Empathy? Yes, empathy. I got that right.  But then I self-censored.  It's been a wild month. I'm having a lot of thoughts that aren't productive (I want to be dead) and strong feelings that make my arguments appear less than thought out (except they really are).  I mean, people, look, it's not a common occurrence for me to have work I made get targeted by the White House to be censored. I'm not used to h...

Photo by Marek Piwnicki It's been a rough summer in so many ways. Just go on over and look at all the wild news, and even the wilder social media. As a HSP trying to stay informed while filtering out and blocking the onslaught of... all the things, I am a touch fried. With an effort, I rallied focus enough to cough up some lines today: we ran among the others– all children he was laughing my expression fixed in righteous anger tickled him when i could catch up, i'd swat him, tell him to stop– he would not– he does not– as if my actions could possibly take anything away from him– he went on and on shouting RAPE! at me– in mockery of all vulnerable people, of our mother– shaming himself who would claim to be a man (of god)– it was only a game out on the schoolyard   no adult attended to his shouts or my outrage a joke, a joke–nothing was meant by it to this day, i choke

Spending a couple of weeks in historic Lexington VA was supposed to be like an art residency. I went with the idea that   I would help paint a mural in a university gallery, and perhaps focus on making some art of my own. None of this happened.   In a tiny town where there is nothing much to do, my person chose to prioritize healing. My body had been quietly collapsing into itself the whole during my sickness so while I had this time, I wrestled with my joints and bones; fought the muscles, tendons, and that blasted thing called fascia. My back hurt often, but I know I am even stronger for the effort. I do stand up straighter. (My kyphosis laughs as I type that.) I could not focus enough to really create anything. My mind was also busy doing its own messy, inexplicable healing just for being in the rural east again- almost like being home. Some crying happened.   I saw a lot of deer and met some lovely human people. I reunited with my brother Mike....

This is an AI generated image of a green snake in a willow tree that I mangled into this horrible composition.  My health and my mental condition continue to be on the up- markedly so.  We are in the month of April in the year 2025 (I had to check to make sure) and I- I think I am finally a person- I might have finally achieved personhood again- I think. For real this time. This has to do with having improved energy levels and physical ability- not something sociopolitical, like my legal status has been changed in some way... I mean, yeah, I still am second class- low class, but I'm an actual person. I barely qualify according to the American standards of personhood these days, but so far so good on that front...🙄😬🫤 With the combination of persistence, time, and a few supplements (was it the astaxanthin that did it?), my body figured out how to person much better than it has been personing in years. That is good news.  In other good news, my Human has i...

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...

  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...