Monday, April 20, 2009
you cannot imagine how much i love hello nurse. aside from the fact that she utterly gets me, and the planetary-aligning sex, there's the simple fact that living with a nurse has a fuckload of advantages and things i just notice that i havent had to deal with before, which i forthwith proceed to list, since i have been all about lists in my manual books lately.
1) if i need a b-12, an i.v. run, or anything of the sort, i have my own nurse. this extends to doctor visits and the hopefully non-eventuality of me needing home care for any reason. i figure get the selfish stuff out of the way first, including
2) the massages, jesus christ.
3) i'm terrified to call her at work. i hear beeps and pages in the background and i am scared someone is going to code and die off because she paused to say 'i love you' before she hung up. i console myself they won't die because we were fighting, since we don't do that much. it would be better to die because of love than a fight, i'd think.
4) we have more rolls of bandage tape than i think the hospital does; i am trying to think of a project to do with them all. also trauma scissors, stethescopes, i.v. tubing, empty blister packs, gauze, tongue depressors, and god knows what else that rode home in her scrubs. sometimes she forgets and brings home the celphone they assign them daily. they don't mind. they're happy to have a warm body on the schedule.
5) i am well on my way to becoming a hypochondriac. i don't think anyone has ever worried so hard about my workings; i can tell when she is listening to me tick and when she worries, so then i worry. i haven't paid so much attention to myself ticking and tocking like, ever.
the picture's one i drew for my dentist in mobile, but i think its the only thing with a nurse hat i had scanned, lol. i've got thousands of these, yanno.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
i don't even know the dates of when i started to realize my contrived world, precarious and mounted on already shattered glass as it was, was coming to an abrupt end.
it sounds more dramatic than it was, but it felt huge, indescribably enormous at the time, and for a long time following...god knows i will always be touchy about it. i'm bored with the details, which are lost in a sea of lies from both sides anyway, so i'm not going to rehash for the benefit of stragglers; suffice it to say, one friend betrayed me pretty deeply, and another flat out carved my heart out of my chest by dint of turning on me so completely that her life is now based on that turn.
i've tried very hard to accept some of the blame that was placed on me, only to learn that it wasn't me. every source i tried to turn to to explain to me how something so surreal and 'undeserved' wasn't me. it wasn't me, they tell me.
maybe it was me a little bit. i'm not the easiest person to live with...but i am honest about whom i am, because i also learnt a few things i already knew, but didn't grasp. and, i would never hurt anyone on purpose, if it could have been avoided with smaller and more honest hurts. so, without further speculation into the past, here is what i can say after a year of hate and silence and being spied on, vindictiveness and ill resolution, and finally, blessed, blessed silence....and for once, it is all to do with me, not some arcane idea of what i want someone to see in me:
i brood, and i like to be alone. not so alone that i dont have someone in my life, but i need someone who will leave me alone when i need to be left alone. i find it makes me miss them and go looking. amazing how easily that works.
i will never be able to depend on a living soul for a goddamned thing. if i don't do it, no one will, and thank god for it; for awhile there i felt like i wasnt trusted to do a thing for myself, or i would talk about what i planned to do and it would be assumed by all around me i meant for them to do it. get your fucking hands off--and out of-- my toolbox. and buy your own drill, guys, i bought a nice one because *I* wanted to use it.
i don't like other people's property, at all. as posessive and materialistic as i am, i am also protective of other people's things too, unless they aren't.
i will not be 'corrected.' or 'punished.' i'll do as i like within the laws and guidelines i choose to follow, and others misinterpreting it or trying to present it as something it isn't isn't my problem. if someone thinks they have the right to punish me, they'd better be getting naked to do it. of course i omit breaking the laws of the land, i am more talking about morality here, but even my legal observance has been known to flutter when it comes to legalization issues and emotional things of that nature.
i also won't allow anyone to punish themselves around me. this has led to more problems than one might imagine. in my mind, i am still trying to be a saviour. and gentrifier.
there is no such thing as being 'in love.' you love what you choose to love, much like a child, and that's the bottom line. and all the rules and things you agree to in the beginning are pointless in the end if you can't even trust yourself.
no one will ever be able to keep promises to you that they can't keep to themselves. holding someone accountable for something they didn't MEAN to do is tantamount to blaming the economy soley on george bush, like he ever even had the intelligence to fuck it up all by himself.
there are no secrets. at all.
so now i have everything i ever wanted, right, and am all healed and everything is fantastic? nah. but i am me again, which really feels nice. and i will explore that statement in a later post.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
i am not a cleaner. i've been trying for a few months, between people arriving and departing from this house with shitloads of their own stuff, to get my stuff from storage (some of which hasn't seen the light of day in ten years or more) and get it home. the living room right now looks like someone had an overdose and wasnt happy about it, in here.
home. am i really home? finally?
does home mean you can go anywhere you want but have somewhere to come back to, or is it just where you keep your stuff?
Sunday, April 5, 2009
i used to read the savage sword of conan voraciously in the eighties. every time my mother would drag me to the grocery store, long experience had taught me that complaining she never did her goddamn grocery shopping while i was at school and didn't have to come with her and be bored never seemed to do any good; and i had already learnt that, so i would instead look forward to escaping her altogether and make a beeline for the magazine rack.
marvel comics has consistently let me down with almost everything they have done (to death) except for this comic. i've been reading my way through all 165 issues (i'm somewhere near seventy), having gotten access to them through another comic book fiend not unlike myself, who also grows faint at the sweeping displays of crosshatching and penned scrumtrilesence.
the whole reason i draw the way i draw right now is probably due to this comic. the displays of anatomy are amazing (although the women look largely the same, of course), but the backgrounds, the fetishy dungeony settings, and the glorious lack of color pretty much make me chew on my own rapidograph in delight. it's like reading a series of engravings.
i used to sit in class and try to draw conan; it's pretty much where i learnt anatomy. somewhere i have a notebook full of anatomically overgrown guys that are wearing fur or chain-maille grippies and big gauntlets, and somewhere in the middle of the notebook those guys change to really butch, half-naked amazonian women in bits of fur and coin mail, not unlike red sonja, but probably more able to kick sonja's ass. never liked her as much; i always thought, why search for a man to best you in combat, and thus win your ass as well as your hand when there are so many hot slave girls running around in the fictitious hybornean age? conan would just grab the nearest--or most in peril-- one and by the time he scaled the wall outside the evil sorcerer's castle with the girl on his shoulder, she'd be in heat for him. i am sure the same could have worked for sonja. perhaps she wouldn't have been so constantly pissed off had she had a few slave girls to work that tension out on.
then again, you never knew when a slave girl was going to turn into a hideous yeti or something, either. or attract one.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
i read a lot about love today, on twitter and some blogs and here and there, so i reckon i will follow the trend.
i know something about love. not a lot. i know it's a lot of things i have expected it to be, and i am not cool with what it actually turned out to be, sometimes. i know there's no such thing as 'true' love. love is no more true than the person feeling it, and if they are lying to themselves about it, it isn't true, is it?
i always thought the worst crime one could commit with love was witholding love. i now know that's not it at all. it's worse to try to create love when there isn't any...or to deny it when there is. to lie about love is worse than to not feel it, i think.
so is it fair to keep what was given in love, even if it was taken back with anger and hurt? like a name? or an icon? or a tattoo?
i think an icon, or a name, (or their tattoos) can sometimes be the only thing we can love about a person. in which case, i think it is fair to accept when something like that has been given so completely that it is impossible to give back. we all change each other. i don't think it is wrong to let go pf the bad and keep hold of the good. even if there is no way there can ever be good passed between two people again.......it's significant to not banish the good that has already happened. and important. and a big part of lunging towards any shred of happiness that we can attain, which is probably the only thing i can think of that we are even here for.
Friday, April 3, 2009
so, i'm wondering why this stagnation. i still feel like everything is in place for things to start happening, but as yet they have yet to have to happen.
everyone's seeking change. every artist i know is in a place of quiet, not necessarily a dry spot or even a stagnant one, although it is that for some also, but a transition that isn't forthcoming, within a sort of quiet spot.
maybe tomorrow will be different. i've got business with a wisteria plant, for example, and there will be pics. the only reason i'm not photoing it tonight is because i'm going to photo the cigarette pack art....such as it is. it progresses, but slowly; i haven't messed with it since i have been doing the covers, but those are almost done......so more project stuff. i also have a trunk i am itching to modify and turn into a victorian steam trunk. that's going to be the shiz.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
man its been awhile since i gave a crap about who made the music i listen to. of course my friend casey is there to present me with anything new i might like, since the radio won't, and i gave up radio play maybe ten years ago as useless, anyway. now that i have the iphone i can program stations on 'lastfm' and suchlike. i found a channel named after a band i like called 'vermillion lies' but who knows if the band programmed it or some fan; either way it plays music of that genre, although i do have to say i like vermillion lies a lot more than even amanda palmer (they are more the type of music i listen to anyway), whose show i discovered them at.
which of course is not to say i don't like amanda palmer, because i do, a lot.
but, i've discovered cabaret bands. of course it is getting called 'dark cabaret' and that's probably the name that's going to stick, but i have also read 'junk cabaret' and 'cabaret of irony' and some other epithets to describe some of the bands i am stumbling over.
basically, real instruments are back onstage, and girls (and some guys, yes, but who likes boys?) are singing ironic songs about themselves and not vague universal lovers and sentiments. i about died when i saw an accordion come out of the box, for example. and i had not seen anyone play a washboard since i was a small child, except the glass washboard my ex yelled at me for trying to play.
funnily, also, that damned forties pinup style seems to be drifting to the wayside (thank god, one more girl with black and pink hair and 'that' hairstyle asking me to do a betty page tattoo on her bum and i will retire--FUCK betty page, she wasn't even that pretty), and a strange, victorian-influenced, turn-of-the-century type sideshow seems to be popping up, and i couldn't be more delighted. it almost makes it worth being the only kid in high school who knew who jules verne was.