Wednesday, July 22, 2009


I've been on a bit of a hiatus here on the blog. A lot of emotions these days with the divorce.

I thought I'd look back and see how far I've come in my feelings. This was Easter:

Actually things haven't changed much as I look at this.

Oh the sweet lilac agony.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Oh Vickie Fastlane--
How do I get you alone?
Shall I gather like dew out your window in the morning?
Shall I purr in the sunlight as you pull me to your royal reign?

Friday, July 3, 2009

Animals of my Emotions IV: Mystical Dragon

For Chris Wrenn, a major donor

Season blossoms
Do you feel it all around you?
Wicked awesomes
Do you want to let it mount you?
It is now that I think of you, oh Mystic Dragon
I long to view you, bathing by a waterfall or meadow's brook,
When you don't think anyone is watching
Like Kevin Costner in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
And I am Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio,
Averting my maiden eyes when discovered
Mystic Dragon, in the throws of summer
Breathing the fire that melted winter
Breathing life into the citrus plants of all my
Inner emotional desires
Dragon, I have pictures of you
Ones you can't recall or don't seem to remember
I am up in a tower, and you are my protector
I send my flowing locks down
To weigh upon your scales (play on words)
And then, I see a single tear
Trickling down the eye of you, dragon
And I see that you are crying...
And I say why, why, why are you crying, Dragon?
Is it because you are the ancestor of the Lizard
And they are significantly less interesting by comparison?
Is it because your flamey breath has been forever unflamed?
Your scales scaled down? Your giant razor claws
Dullened to thorny bits of nothingness in the ether?
Dragon you are safe with me.
I will be your knight in shining armor
Together we will fly through the wilderness of morning
My armor nestled between your dorsal spines
Then you clean me with your forked tongue
And your fire...
And your fire...

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

I've got lumps in my artistic soup...

I have recently been spending a lot of time reading in my new car. It helps me clear the mind. Since Bonnie took the Taurus I am leasing an 85 corrola with option to buy. Getting away from the business of our humdrum lives is important for artists. Today I was reading Another Helping of Chicken Soup for the Artist's Soul. I really want to take myself to the next level. To be a star. But I find myself wicked indecisive. You know?

Anyway, I was reading this book and found that Rumi Kitchen, my spiritual adviser, happened to contribute to this particular edition. What he wrote really touched me. I wanted to share with you my online community of friends:

What is art?
by Rumi Kitchen

Art is pretty much whatever anybody says it is, and an artist is similarly anybody who says he is one. This leaves any definition of "artist" and "art" so vague as to be meaningless. Does the act of creation, be it ever so humble or idiosyncratic, suffice to allow one to lift the laurel of "artist" to his brow? Anybody can call himself anything, but the test is whether or not you actually are qualified. A plumber would not dare to call himself a plumber unless he were qualified in the opinion of others to do plumbing, and had experience and credentials to prove
it, and actually got paid good money for his work. You can't just call yourself a college professor or medical doctor and expect anyone to take you seriously. You need to have something to back it up. The term "artist," unlike "electrician," or "dog trainer," neither conveys qualification, nor is it specific enough to shed much light on what a person may actually do.

I stopped reading at that point. A policeman informed me that I can't park my car at Target after hours.