when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.

Saturday, April 28, 2007


Last Saturday after work I was accosted by three pirates on my front deck.

Kidnapped really.

One case of PINOT EVIL, YArrgghh!

We were whisked away through winding roads and landed in a field near the end of the world.

Pirate, drinking, dancing, debauchery all around.

Sunday morning, head ache.

Sunday afternoon, jumping naked into the rapidly rushing forty-five degree-frigid- freaking river.(actually I had my SuperGirl panties on)

Save the ship, save the Pinot Evil. Yaarrrghhh!

All week long, looking for that lost piece of my brain.

Pirates, yarrgghh, please not tonight. We're scared to go home.


I am on a massage table. There is a sumo wrestler sized woman on my back, she is pinning me down. In her massive hand she has two gigantic syringes. She injects them into the vertebrae in my neck. I wake up unable to move. Unable to get back to sleep, the pain is excruciating.

And this has been the drama for several years now. It's no wonder really after the leap off the bridge, forty feet down and sober. Idiot!

After years, fifteen or more, concrete floors: Bakery shops, hair salons, grocery store check-out, fifteen years.

The car accident, the situation with the spinal meninges which we are forbidden to discuss; if we do we must face involuntary commitment and not to a man or anything as pleasant as that.

I saw my chiropractor in town a few weeks ago. I told her that I had recently returned to full time on my feet work and that I should have been realigned first, but I've not had alot of time lately.

She said I need the shoes that rock. She forgot what they were called.

Friends, listen up.

If you have chronic neck pain, back pain or pain haunts your every thought as it did mine up until last Monday, I have three letters of advice (and I am not getting any kick backs, I just love them and you too):


Shoes that rock! Not kidding!

Yes they cost as much as my son's new car(seriously).

Yes the shoe salesperson comes out of the back room with a pair in your size in one hand and a hand saw in the other to collect the fee of an arm and a leg, but so worth it.


Thursday, April 26, 2007

Miss Pan

I am flying over rivers;

My father walking down below.

"How did you learn to fly?" he and his companions ask.

"I practiced in a dream" and I recall the dream while in a dream.

I swoop and spin, it's so much fun to fly through the trees, over high wires.

"Stace, it's dangerous, I wish you wouldn't." My father shouts from the ground as he falls into the river, sinking.

"Don't say it. Don't tell me I can't fly. If I believe you, I will fall"

Descending slowly, tuning him out.

Determined to rise again.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Code Pink Slip

I can't make this assignment, I wish I could. If anyone out there, men included could take my place, I'd be grateful. Please let me know if you will go and then where you were so I can find you in the historical photo.

CODEPINK has been calling for a "pink slip" to Bush and Cheney for years- and now's the time to do it! Join CODEPINK DC, A28 Coalition, World Can't Wait and many others as we participate in a nationwide message to IMPEACH (Bush, Cheney, the lot of them). We will be joining on the Mall to use our bodies to spell out the word that has been on all of our minds and lips! CODEPINK has offered to take the "C" in IMPEACH and pink it up!

On April 28, in major actions across the country, CODEPINKers will be lying in "C" formation. Aerial photos of our human mural will be taken from the top of the Washington Monument. So bring your pink slip (or even better, wear it!) and your friends to the Mall this Saturday for an Impeachment Picnic!

When: Saturday, April 28th 10:30 am-1:00 pm. Photo is at noon, so please show up by 11:30am at the latest!
Where: The Mall between 14th and 15th St., just east of the foot of the Washington Monument. Smithsonian Metro stop (orange/blue line).
CODEPINK Meet Up will be on the North side of the area, just look for the big pink sign!
What to bring: Wear your pink, a blanket or two, a picnic, some sunscreen/sunglasses/hat and water.

Check out our Impeach page! http://www.codepinkalert.org/section.php?id=24

Open Door

"This being human is a guest house.

Every morning
a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and attend them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture, still,
treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond..."
Mevlana Jelalu'ddin Rumi : Persian sufi mystic
Mevlana Rumi (1207 - 1273)

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Sell Out

I am incredibly far behind in my paper world. I get tired of paying all those bills. I would rather go shopping. I am Goldie Hawn as Private Benjamin, "I want to go to lunch." I am Bartleby the Scrivener to the Nth degree, "I'd prefer not to".

I plow through the unopened bills and reports and enter them into the computer anyway.

As a child of the seventies I never thought I would say this:

Happiness is. . .putting a yellow address label on your quarterly 940 tax report.

I love money and money loves me!

I am such a sell out!

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Blind Love Assassin

I am curled up in a fetal position on my death bed.
My mother; not the one who loved me, but the one who gave birth to me

comes to my side.

"I don't want to die; I am afraid" I cry.

Again, she says

"You're alright."

She cannot be bothered.

Blind Assassin

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Fates Come Marching In

By the time my oldest son was a senior in high school, he had the credit equivalent of two university semesters. Wiley was a governors school student, he was in the top twenty of his class and if you are unfamiliar with this bureaucratic game, no worry, but the system worked for my sons. Wiley flourished in his senior year, he was happy and had a large circle of intelligent and funny friends. Most of his peers were accepted into their prospective University of choice. Wiley had his heart set on Virginia Tech. He would be a senior this year. We took a little road trip; four hours to Blacksburg to tour the campus and check out Norris Hall, that's the Engineering lab.

We went out to dinner, we had easy conversations and were both feeling very optimistic about the school move. I remember thinking that it had been sixteen years since we were alone; mother and son for twenty- four hours, since his brother was born. This college tour was one of those "forever" memories.

Green Engineering, that's what he's into. We saw hydrogen fuel car prototypes and found an administrator to give us a private tour of the automotive engineering lab.It was totally cool.

Wiley worked late nights as a busboy in town his entire senior year.
He was saving his money for school and worked as many shifts as he could get. He came home around midnight and left for school at six in the morning. His grades slipped, somehow he managed to maintain a C in Chemistry. Chemistry was his nemesis.

He's a hard worker; he was voted employee of the month twice.

"How am I going to be an Engineer if I can't pass Chemistry?"
I remember him starting to panic.
I think he had a feeling he was going to get the letter he didn't really want.

It came.

Thank you for your interest. . just that we've had SO MANY way more talented individuals than you, more creative and smarter than you, apply to our great school and well, hope that busboy thing works out for you kid, rejection letter. Of course it didn't really say that, but it may as well had.

I hid the letter from him for three days before he noticed his friends were getting their notices and he hadn't. I cried when I handed it to him, but I hid my face so he wouldn't see. He kept his chin up, smiled a weak smile and said, "it was probably too expensive anyway. I can go to community college for the first two years, don't worry. It's probably for the best."

This punk Cho, has been committed against his will to a mental institution. He stalked two women. His writing professor contacted authorities in personnel and the police department about his depraved writings. Of course this professor was a woman,the police probably assumed she was just being hysterical, like all major University female professors tend to be.I can only imagine his application essay; "I want to kill as many well adjusted, intelligent and optimistic people as I can. It would be an honor for me to attend your University , me and my semi automatic pistol friends, my only friends. I want to share a bath with your students, a blood bath. . .murder innocent kids in the prime of their lives, I am sick, a socio-path, but I come from the ethnic group of which you must fill your quota. . "

And the University admissions department, I can imagine them choosing this pathetic little murderer over my son, tough call as it may have been, to grace their institution halls.
When I heard the first reports of this whacked out Nazi going on his rampage, I cried. That's what I do. This thing struck close, those kids at that school are my kid. Their parents are as proud of and in awe of their college student children as I am of my sons. Those kids want to make this world a better place, they want to be teachers, scientists, veterinarians, contributors to society etc., they are not army combatants.

Wiley didn't get accepted to Virginia Tech four years ago; thank you fate. For once this decision makes sense to me. My son could have been there, in that engineering hall. He would be graduating this year. My heart would be welling over with pride and he would be bursting with anticipation for his next move in his prospective field.

And I could have been a mother burying her son and her soul today.

Thank you Virginia Tech admissions department, for not accepting my son, even though we now know, your standards leave something to be desired. Thank -you.

Had Enough?

(I am currently gathering my outrage, grief and sadness from the travesty at V.Tech. into a more coherent ball.It's still too free floating and random to tame. My favorite son was supposed to be a VT student, as fate would have it, he's somewhere safer; yesterday that was. Thanks to Ed P for sending this excerpt to me. I had no idea Lee Iacocca was this smart)

Subject: "Where Have all the Leaders Gone?" By Lee Iacocca

Excerpt from Where Have All the Leaders Gone? By Lee Iacocca

From Chapter 1: Had Enough?

Am I the only guy in this country who's fed up with what's happening? Where the hell is our outrage? We should be screaming bloody murder. We've got a gang of clueless bozos steering our ship of state right over a cliff, we've got corporate gangsters stealing us blind, and we can't even clean up after a hurricane much less build a hybrid car. But instead of getting mad, everyone sits around and nods their heads when the politicians say, "Stay the course."

Stay the course? You've got to be kidding. This is America, not the damned Titanic. I'll give you a sound bite: Throw the bums out!

You might think I'm getting senile, that I've gone off my rocker, and maybe I have. But someone has to speak up. I hardly recognize this country anymore. The President of the United States is given a free pass to ignore the Constitution, tap our phones, and lead us to war on a pack of lies. Congress responds to record deficits by passing a huge tax cut for the wealthy (thanks, but I don't need it). The most famous business leaders are not the innovators but the guys in handcuffs. While we're fiddling in Iraq, the Middle East is burning and nobody seems to know what to do. And the press is waving pom-poms instead of asking hard questions. That's not the promise of America my parents and yours traveled across the ocean for. I've had enough. How about you?

I'll go a step further. You can't call yourself a patriot if you're not outraged. This is a fight I'm ready and willing to have.

My friends tell me to calm down. They say, "Lee, you're eighty-two years old. Leave the rage to the young people." I'd love to -- as soon as I can pry them away from their iPods for five seconds and get them to pay attention. I'm going to speak up because it's my patriotic duty. I think people will listen to me. They say I have a reputation as a straight shooter. So I'll tell you how I see it, and it's not pretty, but at least it's real. I'm hoping to strike a nerve in those young folks who say they don't vote because they don't trust politicians to represent their interests. Hey, America, wake up. These guys work for us.

WHO ARE THESE GUYS, ANYWAY?I think our current President should visit the real world once in a while.


Leaders are made, not born. Leadership is forged in times of crisis. It's easy to sit there with your feet up on the desk and talk theory. Or send someone else's kids off to war when you've never seen a battlefield yourself. It's another thing to lead when your world comes tumbling down.

On September 11, 2001, we needed a strong leader more than any other time in our history. We needed a steady hand to guide us out of the ashes. Where was George Bush? He was reading a story about a pet goat to kids in Florida when he heard about the attacks. He kept sitting there for twenty minutes with a baffled look on his face. It's all on tape. You can see it for yourself. Then, instead of taking the quickest route back to Washington and immediately going on the air to reassure the panicked people of this country, he decided it wasn't safe to return to the White House. He basically went into hiding for the day -- and he told Vice President Dick Cheney to stay put in his bunker. We were all frozen in front of our TVs, scared out of our wits, waiting for our leaders to tell us that we were going to be okay, and there was nobody home. It took Bush a couple of days to get his bearings and devise the right photo op at Ground Zero.

That was George Bush's moment of truth, and he was paralyzed. And what did he do when he'd regained his composure? He led us down the road to Iraq -- a road his own father had considered disastrous when he was President. But Bush didn't listen to Daddy. He listened to a higher father. He prides himself on being faith based, not reality based. If that doesn't scare the crap out of you, I don't know what will.


So here's where we stand. We're immersed in a bloody war with no plan for winning and no plan for leaving. We're running the biggest deficit in the history of the country. We're losing the manufacturing edge to Asia, while our once-great companies are getting slaughtered by health care costs. Gas prices are skyrocketing, and nobody in power has a coherent energy policy. Our schools are in trouble. Our borders are like sieves. The middle class is being squeezed every which way. These are times that cry out for leadership.

But when you look around, you've got to ask: "Where have all the leaders gone?" Where are the curious, creative communicators? Where are the people of character, courage, conviction, competence, and common sense? I may be a sucker for alliteration, but I think you get the point.

Name me a leader who has a better idea for homeland security than making us take off our shoes in airports and throw away our shampoo? We've spent billions of dollars building a huge new bureaucracy, and all we know how to do is react to things that have already happened.

Name me one leader who emerged from the crisis of Hurricane Katrina. Congress has yet to spend a single day evaluating the response to the hurricane, or demanding accountability for the decisions that were made in the crucial hours after the storm. Everyone's hunkering down, fingers crossed, hoping it doesn't happen again. Now, that's just crazy. Storms happen. Deal with it. Make a plan. Figure out what you're going to do the next time.

Name me an industry leader who is thinking creatively about how we can restore our competitive edge in manufacturing. Who would have believed that there could ever be a time when "the Big Three" referred to Japanese car companies? How did this happen -- and more important, what are we going to do about it?

Name me a government leader who can articulate a plan for paying down the debt, or solving the energy crisis, or managing the health care problem. The silence is deafening. But these are the crises that are eating away at our country and milking the middle class dry.

I have news for the gang in Congress. We didn't elect you to sit on your asses and do nothing and remain silent while our democracy is being hijacked and our greatness is being replaced with mediocrity. What is everybody so afraid of? That some bobblehead on Fox News will call them a name? Give me a break. Why don't you guys show some spine for a change?


Hey, I'm not trying to be the voice of gloom and doom here. I'm trying to light a fire. I'm speaking out because I have hope. I believe in America. In my lifetime I've had the privilege of living through some of America's greatest moments. I've also experienced some of our worst crises -- the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, the Kennedy assassination, the Vietnam War, the 1970s oil crisis, and the struggles of recent years culminating with 9/11. If I've learned one thing, it's this: You don't get anywhere by standing on the sidelines waiting for somebody else to take action. Whether it's building a better car or building a better future for our children, we all have a role to play. That's the challenge I'm raising in this book. It's a call to action for people who, like me, believe in America. It's not too late, but it's getting pretty close. So let's shake off the horseshit and go to work. Let's tell 'em all we've had enough.

Copyright © 2007 by Lee Iacocca & Associates, Inc., a California Corporation

Saturday, April 14, 2007

My Monster

"You know what? sometimes you can see both sides of a situation so far that all you do is spin in circles, and then you know what happens? You end up in a pile of mush."

This is the lecture I used to hear from my high school teacher. This was compounded by my father constantly comparing me to a chicken with it's head cut off, which I always thought was a funny image, and also led to my becoming a vegetarian at the age of twelve.

Born with the Sun in Cancer and the Moon in Leo.

Cancer is ruled by the Moon; Leo the Sun. This is a very two-headed situation which borders on schizophrenic, but I won't go there. Yeah you will. Aggghh!

Opposing forces; Day and night.

Day and night wed and gave birth to one being, one that is constantly torn in opposite directions all at once.

Embrace the monster or rip it's head off? This is the question.

I have a list of "The Symptoms of Inner Peace" hanging on my shop wall. I keep it there to remind me to remain free from engaging in negative drama. I deal with so many different personalities in a days time. Sometimes they clash, sometimes there is a history, sometimes there is a demon lurking and I must contain my monster.

I know I should, but it's difficult. I can disengage, I know how, it's just this teensy little problem. I want to stomp the demon into the ground first, and then disengage completely.

When my friend writes about some kid terrorizing her little girl on the playground, she shouts at the kid. I want to get on the swing and knock the kid to the ground, with all my monster force; and then just walk away.

When my son calls to tell me he has been swindled by an unscrupulous landlord; I want to grab the scumbag (the landlord of course)by his scrawny little neck and squeeze with my monster force until I sense he is about to take his last breath, and then I release him.

Then I wish him a life of peace and that he learns what he must in his own way on his own terms. I thank him for showing me how strong and vigilant I am as a mother. I thank my son for allowing me to protect him, and I am thankful I have the opportunity to protect the son from the demon.

When the newer,nicer, IRS audits me for the third year in a row - not a "how much money didn't you earn?"- type of audit but a -"Prove you don't live in your PO Box, AND Prove those two sons whom you have raised solo for 20 years, and are the only named parent on their birth certificates etc.,are yours" type of audit- I really want to disengage. I want to pretend they don't exist. But if I pretend that, I won't be able to receive the refund that will bring me up to the poverty level for the past year.

So instead, I send the IRS an anthrax bomb.An enormous bomb, one that would scare the hell out of #157697680, #3333333 and all the rest. (This post might alert the FBI to open a new folder on me,but hold off a second.)

but then the bomb would explode in bursts of lilies, roses and mums, that fill the cubicles with the scent of love and springtime. Because they are the newer, nicer, IRS. Because I am learning , to control my monster.

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Off With Her Head!

It's funny to me, that line. But it's spoken by the wrong Queen. The Queen of Hearts. She can be a cold hearted one if you misunderstand her. She is really ordering people to think through their hearts, not their heads, rule from the heart. That's the key isn't it?

The Death trump reversed, slipping into depression and stagnation due to the loss of creative energy outlets to responsible pursuits.

The key to resolving this dynamic or moving out of it was the Queen of Wands, or fire.

A few years ago, before I began a dream quest and interpretation class with Dr. Henry Reed from the ARE, I had this intensely vivid nightmare:

I am running through the snow completely naked. I am barefoot and it is night time. The ice topped snow hurts my feet and ankles as I break through the crust of the snow with each running step. I am feverishly gathering frozen female corpses in my arms like cord wood. It is my job to gather them and I have several in my arms and am running out of energy.
I enter a brick house, I seem to have been invited in by a man. There is a large brick fireplace and the fire is thawing the bodies and my feet.I am standing in a puddle of water. People are gathering to share great food cooked on the fire and beer.

I considered leaving it up to you to interpret, but I think it would be easier if I just told you what I know. To be an artist is to hang exposed on a wall, naked. The artist runs through stagnation or frozen creativity (frozen parts of self). She is rescuing them from oblivion, she enters a strong structure with a foundation of brick. Fires burn, friends share food and drink. She thaws in the warmth of hearth and home.

In readings, the Queen of Wands asks you to think and feel as she does. For example: Do you feel attractive? Do you believe in yourself? Are you full of energy? Can you shake off the blues? Are you gung ho about life?

I'm going to focus on the warm blessings in my life and home, what I always wanted, I now have. That's the key to getting unstuck. When that voice says I am not good enough, I am going to be the Queen of Fire, hear me roar!

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Death Trump Reversed

Nearly every morning, I consult the Klimt deck that I love so much, and pull a three card spread.
Thirteen/ Death, reversed in the location of the present of my three card lay out for the past three days.

Three (as in days) is significant, as the three is the "something has been created", the union of Father and Mother creates the child,dynamic.

Three threes together however is the number of chaos and I hold my breath for the entire minute if I see it has arrived on a digital read out anywhere. I have seen many decaying houses and strange businesses which are doomed for no apparent reason except for the fact that their address is triple three. (I wont type it if I can avoid it). This is a tangent.

Thirteen, the Death trump, comes after and trumps the twelve:The Hanged Man of indecision and gaining of esoteric wisdom through intuition.

Then enters Death (and the crowd roars even louder!).
Thirteen, my favorite number. The Kabbalistic number for the full moon. The thirteenth letter of the alphabet is M.

Mmmmmmm, Mother, Moon. . .
Considering this fact(full moon), Friday is the day of the week which is dedicated to Venus, the Goddess of sensuality and beauty and feminine wisdom, one can now realize the true meaning of Friday the 13th. But I digress, from Death, again.

The Death card described by tyskelion.com reader: Water is the Elemental Ruler of Death for a number of reasons. First, water represents fluidity, the ability to change and adapt to circumstances and situations. Second, Death also symbolizes rebirth, and it is in water that life begins. Third, water has the ability to change form -- it can be liquid, solid, or gaseous. Thus, it is ideal to represent the changing aspects of the Self.

Death has been reversed each day, it appears upside down. Not only do I shuffle the cards like a maniac as I am in a hurry to get out the door, but I cut them and shuffle them again after each reading. The reversed Death appeared each time in the center of the three cards in the line. On the left-is recent past. Center card(today's star)-present moment, card on the right -near future (or key to change).

Present moment, Death reversed, three days in a row, sheesh! What are you trying to say??!

The cards, Klimt and my guides are painting this picture very clearly.

Death trump Reversed:

Fear and refusal to face change; depression; stagnation. Forcible removal of a something that is held tightly. Also indicative of complete inner transformation.

See, it's not so bad. It's about letting go of old ways in order to create the new. Shedding old skin.
Why now?
This weather is depressing. I have very painful arthritis in my spine and this weather doesn't help and here I go whining. No, I won't anymore, I promise. Lately there have been many murders committed by me in my dreams. This is a symbol of my creativity being stifled as it looses way to responsibility all too often.
Then there is this strange thing that keeps happening at work in my Salon. All of these little kids that I used to know are coming in to say hello with their own children in tow! My hair is turning gray, too many addresses and phone numbers in my phone book belong to people/ friends and family members who have died and several friends my age and younger are doing a hateful dance with life threatening cancers.

I wake early, I clean and do laundry. I bathe and go to work. When I do not work, I go to school. When I have a day off, I sleep; too tired to do anything else.

I have attended more trade schools than the average person and there are many jokes among my immediate family members about the fact that I can do your hair, bake and decorate your wedding cake, deliver your baby then counsel you through your life changes , but I still don't know what I will be when I grow up.

Ambitiousness doesn't really describe it; it's really a lack of belief that I am good enough as I am. Sister, friend, lover, mother, woman, painter, no that's not good enough, she tells me.

I can pay my bills, I say. no that's not good enough

Ive come a long way from homelessness and the welfare trip. no that's not good enough

Ive escaped the cycle of abusive relationships and found infinite love. Again that bitch in my head says, no that's not good enough

Ive raised two beautiful healthy and happy sons, I protest this taunting, but it rules me. Her reply is always the same.

I keep using up my time for art, music and plain old relaxing in order to get a degree in something I do not feel remotely passionate enough about, because she keeps telling me I am not good enough.
I beat myself up because I haven't been to a birth in three years even though I really don't feel comfortable in that place due to my perceptions of the current birthing population and their refusal to take responsibility for their own births. I have too much to loose these days and I'm not talking about money.
Whatever my truth , she still beats me up. I must not be a good midwife if I dont go to a few hundred births per year, she mocks me.(actually she says really bad things, but I will spare you the words.)

I'm tired of her and I am running out of time on my mortality alarm clock. It's a little scary to let her off my tail, to stop running away all the time. But I am ready to let that "need to be somebody" suit of armor to fall to the floor. I am ready to shed that skin. I've come a long way, I am here now, and I'm okay.

What was the key to change you might ask? The position of the near future? Luckily she is the Queen of Wands. I think I will save her for tomorrow.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

Yawp and Constant Winter

I am really grateful to have some active, new readership here in my Blogosphere;Winter is intensely funny and Third Worst Poet in the Galaxy, need I say more? Both of you are added to my honorable favorite links over there-on the right.

Winter from http://constantwinter.blogspot.con/ and http://thirdworstpoetinthegalaxy.blogspot.com/

Thanks Third worst and Winter, keep coming back it works!

Friday, April 06, 2007


I have a huge confession to make. This may surprise you all but I feel it is time to put an end to all the speculation and rumors. I am stating for the record; I am the father of Anna Nicole's baby.
You may all get back to business as usual.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

Animal Mind Dreams

I discovered this comment from Matt of Animal Mind on Mystic Wings post this morning.
I enjoy getting a glimpse into the male writer's psyche. Same coin, different side.
Both men are fantastic writers with original perspectives.Mystic has been revealing his dreams and interpretations recently and Matt has given me permission to copy and look into his dream comment:

"I still recall a dream I had a dozen years ago in which I fired a machine gun into the sky, causing giant white birds to rain down to earth.(Matt)"

Now to work this short excerpt which is laden with symbolism:

I have myself aiming a power full weapon of mass destruction, rage, murder at the heavens and God. I actively attempt to kill God.
Messages of peace, purity,and love fall like symbolic raindrops from the house of the spirit.

See Matt? You say you are an Atheist. Now why? It seems at the time of the dream, which is very significant to you as you still remember it vividly, you are angry with this God you do not believe in. This is the where was God when? question. The Job question. What was going on for you 12 years ago? What were you realizing about the limitations of this omnipotent being? How did God hurt you and make you so angry?
Seems as though the message is of unconditional love being the answer from God. No matter how ugly, angry, ignorant or murderous your actions towards this God, God returns nothing but love, peace, purity.
Seems to be a pertinent lesson for both of us right now, disengage, be peace.-out

Animal Mind and Mystic Wing are in my favorite links.

Wednesday, April 04, 2007

And The Walls, Come Tumbling Down

Note- This is actually yesterday's post; I held it back in order to deal with the gooey, dark mess that invaded my site yesterday.

In an ancient brick Georgian city home

-there was a large implosion and the roof and walls collapsed on the top floor of the city house I was living in. The upstairs was where my mother / ex-mother in law slept.
Looking up after the enormous bang made me dizzy. So high up, no roof, no walls, skyscraper tall.

I head for the steps to ascend,
a voice tells me it is dangerous, but I must save what is precious to me.

I sort through a chest of items and only take one little trinket. There is really nothing of matter, that seems too important anymore. It's not the stuff that matters.

Out on the street I am telling people about the implosion.
I look up at the building, I am dizzied by the sight of it again.

Yesterday evening after work, I discussed this strange dream with Tate. We seemed to agree the symbolism centered on my mothers imminent return to living in the U.S. She's been in Europe for eleven years.

But then, last night, he woke up and said his body hurt.
He fainted and hit the floor with a huge thud.
He awoke crying saying he didn't feel good.
My mental and physical shelter, the walls that hold me,my heart and my soul, securely, came crashing down in an instant.
I thought he had a stroke.
My sky imploded.
I got dressed.
It was damn scary.
He refused to go to the hospital.
I didn't know whether to call an ambulance or not.
I helped him to bed.
He finally fell asleep. I am calling the doctor anyway, he thinks he has a flu.
Omens this morning
Loud sirens as never heard before in our neighborhood in the woods.
I start the car, set the emergency brake, and walk towards the basement to collect laundry.
Emergency Brake slips and car begins to roll towards house headed straight for the free standing propane tanks.
I jumped in through the passenger's door, just in time and pulled the brake.

(Doc. notes:Tate is fine. He has a flu bug in his chest and he coughed himself into this state)

Hurt So Good

Here ya go "A"
Eat yure little dark heart out.

Tate's EX- wife/ REVISED

It's been a passionate morning. The roof collapsed last night. I intended to discuss this today but it seems as though some "friend" of Tate's ex-wife has discovered my blog and had a heyday berrating me for the impossible, "stealing people"
I've read all of these anonymous comments and my responses to Tate last night. He was repulsed by you, "A". It was obvious to both of us that the Anonymous author was not R, because she would never stoop so low as to air her dirty laundry nor her ignorance out in public as you have, nor J. J would know how to spell soul.
I am going to respond to your comments and after a day or two, I will move your ugly words , which mirror your face and personality, to the trash ; where you belong.
This is my blog. This is my reality which I am responsible for. If you want to express your ignorance and ugliness to the world I suggest you create your own blog.
I must say, I feel very sorry for you. Sorry for the fact that you seem so emotionally connected to hating people you obviously do not know. Sad that you think my art and self are "Wacko", but you are hooked on viewing it and responding to it. I wish you well and I hope and pray you someday, find a life of meaning. Obviously you are barren of heart, soul, or PEACE IN YOUR RELATIONSHIPS.
GOOD LUCK, GOOD BYE, and if you don't like my blog, you really do not have to read it. Thank you.

Monday, April 02, 2007


Early this morning before school, I made the trip to the recycling center. I love to smash the bottles in the bin. It's a great stress buster. I have alot of stress and lots of empty wine bottles at the end of the month too.

Kramer, my 14 pound terrier is riding shotgun. He jumps out of the car and visits his junkyard dog girlfriend while I do my thing.

Afterwards on the way to school, I start to worry about my brain tumor again. The overwhelming scent of poo, I think, is coming from the earth as it thaws in the morning Spring sun.

"Hey Kramer, did you roll in something stinky again?"

"No Momma, he said, this time it was you"

Agghhh!!!!! poo all over my shoes And my new pants!