Monday, May 30, 2011


I went out last night.  Today, when I went through my purse, I found a note that read: "Immortal Technique." I have no recollection of how it got there, or what it means.  It was written in purple ink.

Sunday, May 29, 2011


I'm working on this mixed media art piece for my first art show, called 'Powdered Bones'.  It's based on a self portrait I took one day when I literally felt like my heart was bleeding.

I don't know how to express how that feels except to say that it's like love and longing mixed with betrayals that haven't occurred yet, but which you know are coming.

I wrote this poem based on a recent dream about love and heartbreak, and decided to use it to add another layer to the visual imagery.  

HEX (A Sort of Werewolf)

We ended as everything ends eventually.  30 days later, I awoke scratching mad, animalist penchant.  My skin began to itch once you were gone.  There is no one else to accuse.  I was so used to your pigment. 

You put a hex on me…
You used to study Egyptology, Osiris and Isis, the Book of the Dead.  You used to draw hieroglyphics on my bare shoulders, running fingers over scars, mapping my follicles. Now you’ve put a hex on me & I don’t feel human.  The moon tides are running in my blood – a wolf is rising up inside of me, skeletal lines shivering under honed muscle. 

This hex is doing some crazy things.  My eyes glitter silver.  I itch ribs, the length of arms, stomach, and curse your knowledge of alchemy.  You used to turn lead into gold, and now you’re punishing me.  I can’t get you off my skin.

My fingernails are destructive;  I have weeping cuticles.  I’d like to show you what you’ve done.  Naked, would you recognize the taste of my skin, the altered texture?  This is one bad break up.  Night wears heavy upon me, white magnet & I could razor you in half.  I am a sleepless metal shadow.

Saturday, May 7, 2011


From childhood, I’ve had trouble sleeping…staying up until 5 or 6 in the morning, as though I needed the cold reality of daylight to soothe me.  The monsters are not as frightening when you can see them clearly.
Native Americans believe that when we dream we go into another dimension.  I know this.  Every day I wake up exhausted, with burning muscles, as though I have fought a tremendous battle.  My nightmares are vivid paroxysms of blood & death.  I don’t know how to draw the line between dreams & reality. 

Often, I am fighting myself.  There is something primal living under my skin.  There is a slow-burning rage, and a sense of urgency.

 I hope that by writing this down, I can make better sense of it all.