Ten Years Gone

Been a decade since I posted anything on this page.  Truth be, I kinda forgot about it.  All the good and all the bad in my life has taken precedent over my rambling old lady mind fucks.  Wondering if I still have it in me.  I find most blogs I read boring and stagnant, and honestly, I do not care what mood you woke up in, what you had for dinner, seeing pictures of people I do not know and will never meet, and hearing how wonderful your partner, pets, kids, and anyone else you consider important in your life is.  Gee.  How cynical.  Nothing new there.

Now I am older
The more that I see, the less that I know for sure.

Courtesy of Mr. Lennon.  Be In Peace, John.   You should have never let her sing.

It's been a long time coming...

And it's gonna be a long time gone.

CS&N reminded me this morning that I have not paid any attention to this blog thing in years.  I should really try to do better.

Life since I last posted has remained the same.  Art, music, horses, dogs.  No biggies.  The only really important thing is that I have seen my niece and nephews grow into young adults.  Sarah is in college studying veterinary medicine.  Bryan just got accepted to law school.  Scott continues with his job in management.  And I just get older.

But summer is coming.  That means sand between the toes. And that has always been a good thing for me.

And you fly....

through the sky, never asking why.

Here is Jonn, during a weekend with friends at The Homestead. We got to meet the falconer, and with him holding a little piece of dead meat behind our heads, the bird would land on our hand. Very cool..I wish I could fly.

Morning lyrics by Bad Company.

All we are saying....

is give peace a chance.

Check this out. http://www.playingforchange.com/ Musicians from all over the planet, playing, singing, in total joyfull bliss about the music and its' message.

When Jonn and I were in New Orleans a few months ago, out for an after muffeletta breakfast walk up Bourbon Street, one of the musicians in these videos was camped out on the sidewalk playing blues harp. Grandpa Elliott. I sat on the curb, my feet in the gutter, and listened till the sun went behind a building, and the unseasonabily cold weather drove me on my way. It was very VERY cool. So I was delighted to find this website, and to find Grandpa on it.

Aw, Mister Lennon, we miss you so.

Oh Kitty, my darling...remember

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Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder...

...where it's as white as snow.

Zak loves the snow. He has been waiting a long time for it. Yesterday morning, he came bounding into my room, barking an alert that it had finally happened. He digs in it, he rolls in it, he slides on his belly in it. He does not see it as an inconvienence as some do...he does not care about shoveling it or scraping it off windows. To him, it is pure joy.

Pure joy...something we all probably need to find more of. Or more importantly, recognize the potential for it.

Make it happen, babies. Muscial inspiration this morning by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Yahoo.

It was 20 years ago today.....

Actually it was a lot more. But for some reason, people from my past are crawling out of the woodwork. Is this one of those things where your life flashes before your eyes before you die situation? I hope to hell not.



Anyway, I am finding myself remembering the time when all that really mattered was what I was going to do on that specific day. Now, I have to look more forward with my planning. And all this time spent remembering has lead to a lot of wasted hours..lost in my thoughts, wondering where I went wrong, where I went right. At times, I am amazed I made it this far.



I do know this, I have been totally neglecting things that make me ME. My art studio is empty of works in progress. Piano and guitar are collecting dust. The horses are dirty from the rain and mud, and need a good grooming. The house is screaming for a pre-spring cleaning.

I took this picture last summer. Obviously, the lightning bolt did not strike some life changing/affirming revelation in me, as it did in the tree that it hit.

My winter doldrums are diminishing. Yay.

I miss you, Mister Lennon. But you coulda done better than Yoko..what was that about anyway?

Strange what desire can make foolish people do...

Don't you hate it? You get into something, someone, and then everything that could possibly go wrong does. A royal cluster fuck.

What a wicked game you play
To make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do
To let me dream of you.

ANYWAY......the above courtesy of Mr. Issak, of course. And to quote an old Manhattan song...

Let's just kiss and say goodbye.

Hell, lets just say goodbye. No need for the kiss.

(Is it obvious that I am in one of my musical musing moods????

Time has come today

Time has indeed come. Time to make time to get back into the studio. Time to make time to tickle the ivories and pluck the strings. Which reminds me of the old Starship song line.." when I pluck your body like a string...". Oh goddess...does THAT bring back memories. Wonder what ever became of those young boys with their tight jeans, smelling of British Sterling because they knew what that scent did to me. I musta been a cheap date...British Sterling????? Really.

But at this moment, it's time to turn off this computer, go upstairs, and let Mister Race Car Guy know just how much I missed him these last few days. He already let me know how much he missed me. Lucky girl that I am.

So babies, use your time wisely. Once it's wasted, it's gone. But once it's used in a productive manner, it remains a good thing forever.

Time has come today
Young hearts can go their way
Can't put it off another day
I don't care what others say
They say we don't listen anyway

Inspired by The Chambers Brothers

Time time time.....

...see whats become of me.

Four months since I have posted. The good thing is that I have been busy. The bad thing is that I have been busy. Busy bad and busy good.

ANYWAY..... expect more from me. I certainly do.

Look around, leaves are brown, and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.

Words from Simon and Garfunkel. A big part of my early hippie introspective period.

"Art is the means we have of undoing the damage of haste....

...it's what everything else isn't". Theodore Roethke

I found this quote this morning. Makes perfect sense, doesn't it? And it was a timely discovery. Of late, my life has been somewhat hasty. And it's confusing. Priorities, commitments, responsibilities are becoming muddled. And all this confusion has materialized itself in me not being me. Or not who I want to be. Damage is being done.

So, this morning, I will find/make/demand time to art. I am using that word as a verb now. I need to art. I have an unfinished canvas gestating in my studio, and it's time that baby was born.

When you've reached this age you know...

...that the mind is the first to go.

Mister Always Comes Up With The Best Gifts surprised me on my birthday with an unusual and most appropriate for my tastes present this year.

One of our favorite authors is Poppy Z. Brite, from New Orleans. She writes erotic horror fiction. Over the years he has given me many first edition signed novels of hers. They correspond over the internet frequently.

It is from her that he found my gift. Antique leather leg restraints from an old mental institution in Georgia.

What else can I say?

This posts title is from the The Birthday Dirge. Author unknown.

We could walk forever....

...walking on the moon.

A few weeks ago, The One Who Carries My Luggage and I were in the Virgin Islands. One of our favorite places is Trellis Bay..where there is a very bohemian enclave of artist studios and restaurants. Not much else.

The reason for this posting..Aragorn Studios. Aragorn makes these incredible fireballs out of old metal orbs..I am thinking mooring balls here...and once a month, they are ignited for their Full Moon Ritual. Of course, I wanted one. But they were not for sale, and would be nearly impossible to get back to my house anyway.
Lucky for me, Liz, the resident potter, makes smaller ceramic versions. I fell in love with one done with fishies, in metallic raku, but it had already been sold. Erin, the most capable store manager, arranged for another one to be made just for me. Liz only fires them on full moons.

It arrived yesterday. And will be properly initiated on the next full moon. Check out his website at www.aragornsstudio.com. Very cool indeed.

Some may say
I'm wishing my days away, no way
I may as well play

Maybe I'm amazed....

...at the way you love me all the time.

And maybe I'm afraid at the way I really need you.

Enough said.

Time waits for no one...

...and it won't wait for me.

I stopped blogging. I knew all along that real life was much more relevant than sitting at a computer for even one moment longer than I absolutely needed to.

My inspirations in life do not come from words on a screen.

The Lakota Sioux have a saying..." today is a good day to die". One should live each minute as if it were their last. And I certainly would not want to be found dead slumped over a keyboard.

Therefore, my virtual absence will continue. In the past weeks, I have created art, played music, traveled, worked with the horses, made love, spent more time doing things that matter....and I like it.

I'll be back, surely. When something in my little brain insists on being set free.

Time can tear down a building or destroy a woman's face
Hours are like diamonds, don't let them waste

Words by Jagger and Richards

Tell me why.....

I have received a lot of comments about my last post, both online and by those who want to remain anonymous. Cowards. These words are directed towards those who choose to speak their minds yet remain nameless.

This occurs to me....a drunk driver or a drug addict behind the wheel of a car has a much greater chance of killing some innocent person than I do, owning a registered gun for self protection against someone who is threatening my life.

The drunk and the addict get sympathy...those poor, poor sick and misguided people. We have to understand their addiction and pray for them. I get called a killer and a war monger. Even though my owing a gun has NOTHING to do with war. Or with politics.

The drunk and the addict affect peoples lives every day...their family being the most devastated. Hopefully, NO ONE will ever be affected by the guns in my house.

I think a bit of Neil Young is in order.

Is it hard to make
arrangements with yourself,
When you're old enough to repay
but young enough to sell?

Janie's got a gun....

I'll probably get a lot of flack for this. My words are not directed to any one person in particular.

The shootings at Va Tech were a horrible thing. But as far as I could tell, a politician was not the one who bought the gun, or gave it to the killer. I am tired of all the blame being put on those who were NOT responsible. Should we execute the guy who sold the kid that gun? Should we blame the parents? All of you are such wonderful child raisers, your kid would never do anything like that, would they? Is the administration of the college responsible? Shouldn't they have had the wisdom to foresee this? After all, they are the ones who you gave responsibility to (and a whole lot of money) and entrusted them with your children. OF COURSE NOT.

Do the research. A hell of a lot more people are killed every year by drunk drivers. Good thing none of you ever got behind the wheel with a little (a lot) too much alcohol, or anything else, in your bloodstream. I can't make that claim. Maybe we should ban cars. Or are drunk driving fatalities the fault of the politicians too...they could have outlawed liquor.

The powers that be say that drugs are illegal. See any shortage of them? I don't. What makes you think it would work with gun control?

So when your daughter is getting raped, or your son is being carjacked because some fuckhead wants his car, and you have no way of defending yourself or protecting your child because the bad guy has a weapon and you don't, DON'T CALL ME. And DON'T CALL ME when your home gets invaded, and you can do nothing but watch yourself and your loved ones get the shit beaten out of them because the bad guy has a weapon and you don't. Maybe you can talk the criminals out of doing what they are doing. Use poetry to cajole them. Light candles and put on some Joan Baez...that should calm them down.

Guns don't kill people. People kill people. And sweethearts, that makes you and me the problem. We are people.

Nuff said. I need to go get a mop, and clean up all the blood from the bleeding hearts. And listen to some Aerosmith.

Make your own peace, babies, cos no one else is gonna do it for you.

I am just a monkey man.....

Glad you are a monkey woman, too.

This is Monty. Short for Montgomery.

He has been sitting in my studio for weeks, unfinished. It took a sharp knife and some Class 3 narcotics to whittle him down to something I could deal with. I couldn't get my head around the whole original torso/shoulder thing. And I needed to wait until the muse kicked in. She has been missing lately. Monkey butt inspiration does not come easy.

The tattoo is the chinese zodiac sign for monkey. And I suppose if you must have a monkey on your back, ink is not a bad option.

I have a sudden urge for a banana now . . . . you're so vain, I bet you think this song is about you.

Words by former bedmates Carly Simon and Mick Jagger.

Stone free .....

.....to do what I please.

One of the best gifts anyone can give me is a rock.

Mister Goes Away has brought them back from his adventures. The One Who Plays In Dirt carved a rune into one for me. One of The Little Imps brought me back a stone from Paris. He Who Obeys wore one of them around his neck when he traveled. My house is full of them. They are in the pockets of my jeans. Around my neck. On my desk. They are in the horse stalls. In the cars. On my altar in honor of the earth elementals.

I have no reason for this post. Perhaps its the drugs. I hurt my back. And I am a big believer in better living thru chemistry. Vicodin and Hendrix. Nice way to spend a rainy Sunday.

Baby got back

Ok. Mister Torso has been sleeping in my studio for weeks now, untouched. The epiphany came in the middle of the night, after thinking about something that happened yesterday morning...I need to attack it with a knife and cut it down. The shoulder part is just not working for me. All I want is the butt.

And once that is finished, I can start on a commission piece. Two paintings. Side by side. Reds, browns, golds...very abstract. At least that is what is in my head at the moment. (Actually, something else is in my head, but he's not here, so...)

My creative urges are not exactly surging lately. Surging urges.....hmmm. And I know from experience that unless I get back in the studio and make messes, I will suffer. And when I suffer, everyone suffers.

All that you suffer is all that you are.

Smashing Pumpkins

All of the ladies attending the ball...

I don't celebrate Easter. My holiday is Ostara. Google it if you don't know what that is.

So, no easter bunnies. No big feast on Lambchop for dinner. (I loved that puppet) Instead of an easter egg roll, I roll these little lovelies. They clink and clank and jingle with little bells inside.

So, darlings, celebrate the day as you will.

Please then remember and don't get too close,
to one special one, he will take your defenses and run.

Thank you, Mister Stills, for that sage advice. It has proven itself as truth more times than I can remember.

Scuse me while I kiss this guy....

I didn't mean to take up all your sweet time,
I'll give it right back one of these days.
And if I don't meet you no more in this world
Then I'll meet you in the next one and don't be late.

Cause I'm a voodoo chile.

Obvious, ain't it?

Wish I could take credit for the artwork.  Artist unknown.

Rock And Roll Hoochie Koo

Last nite I did something I have not done in years. Went to a bar with the express purpose of drinking beer and listening to some very loud rock and roll. And to dance with every man who was under 35.

Here is what I don't understand. For the majority of the music, men in ball caps were lined up at the bar, watching women dance with other women. Why is this? Why don't these men march right out there, interject themselves, and meet some of these lonely hearts who do not have a dance partner? And why don't these women ask these men to dance? I had no problem doing that..... Mister I Wouldn't Be Caught Dead In A Ball Cap doesn't dance.

Anyway, I had a kick ass time. I knew about a zillion people there, including the guitarist, who is my very best friend. And when I was not being Miss Twinkle Toes (with a partner of the opposite sex) I had the pleasure of watching all this amusement.

The bar scene...not much has changed in the close to four decades I have been experiencing it.

Lordy mama, light my fuse.

I've been a bad bad girl

This is Fiona Messcat of The Woods. AKA Messy. She appeared in the woods around the house one day, and moved in. She is getting older now. Quite the hunter in her day, I would find headless snakes, squirrel and rabbit entrails, and piles of feathers out on the deck. Now she is content to sleep on her pillow, scream at us when she is hungry, and taunt the dogs. I love her neon green eyes. The One Who Feeds Her says she is a good cat. I have my doubts. I think she does things when we are not home.

What I need is a good defense
Cause I'm feelin like a criminal

Building a mystery....

Have you ever had something happen in your life that offers no explanation, but it seems like it was so totally meant to be? You ask the questions, but the answers only make more questions. I am learning to just let it be...take it for what it is, and not agonize over the whys and what ifs.

After all, if I truly believe some of my previous posts (which I do) I created these things. And my interaction and reaction to the people and the places. Don't know how I did it, but that is another question that I have stopped asking. I don't want the answer.

Just as the path is sometimes more rewarding than the destination, the questions are far more intriguing than the answers.

You come out at night
That's when the energy comes
And the dark side's light
And the vampires roam

You're so beautiful...a beautiful fucked up man.

Words by Sarah, of course.

She rode a horse into my head

No hour of life is wasted that is spent in the saddle.

Words from Winston Churchill. He knew what he was talking about. An hour on Jesse yesterday cleared my head and blew out some of the insignificant crap put there by some rather insignificant people.

I have been reading a lot of blogs where people are listing the things they are grateful for. I am grateful that I can pretty much do whatever the fuck I please. It's that simple.

Be in Peace, babies.

It's times like these....

You learn to love again.

Time to get back to my music. THE music. I have been away from it too long.

I am a new day rising
I'm a brand new sky
to hang the stars upon tonight
I am a little divided
do I stay or run away
and leave it all behind?

Dave Grohl...acoustically foo fighting.

Cold irons bound....

Down on your knees, begging praying asking for forgiveness. Some people go to church on Sunday morning to do such things. I don't.

I'm bound by the fire
I'm bound by the beauty
I'm bound by desire
I'm bound by the duty

Words by Dylan and Jane Siberry. Construe them as you will.

UPDATE

HAHAHAHAHA...it's so good to be me. My dentist office does not open till 9. At 8:40 this morning, they call me..apparently some wild haired little birdie read my post, and told her man, who just happens to be my dentist, who told his office to call me and schedule an appointment ASAP. Seems I owe some people a really REALLY nice dinner...thanks lovies.

With teeth....

Ok, whomever is putting this bad mojo on me...STOP IT. Now I have either broken a tooth, or lost part of a filling. Which means a phone call to the dentist, begging them to fit me in sometime today to fix it. I don't have time for this. I don't have time for much lately, it seems. But I am not bitching. I am thankful that my life is at a point where I really don't have to do anything I really don't want to. The house is a mess, so what. Art is on hold, no big deal. No one is demanding anything from me right now. Which is good, cos I wouldn't give it to em anyway.

She comes along
She gets inside
She makes you better than anything you've tried
It's in her kiss
Black as sea
And it runs deeper than you dared to dream it could be
Wave good bye
To what you were
The rules have changed, the lines begin to blur
She makes you hard
It comes on strong
You finally found the place where you belong

With teeth.

NIN in the morning.

Back in the saddle again...

Today I got off the couch. I actually got dressed. And actually ate something. A double dose of morning monkey medicine did wonders. Left me exhausted and drained, but it did wonders. In fact, I felt so damn good about not feeling so damn crappy that I decided I needed to put my butt on a horse this afternoon. Which did even more wondrous things. While Mister Fix It and Mister Barn Owner worked on water troughs, I trotted around, happy to have 1000 pounds of horse flesh between my legs.

Tomorrow will be spent rescheduling all the things I had to cancel the past few days. Lunches, facials, massages....and other less critical appointments (like a meeting with my stockbroker to discuss the POSSIBILITY of a budget so Mister Above Referenced can retire and I can live in the manner to which I have become SO accustomed to). Oh joy.

Sick as a dog, what's your story...

I am STILL down. Which is a huge bummer, because I had a week full of cool things to do. The weather has warmed up, and all I can do is look out the window at it. Taking a bath, which I need desperately, or even thinking about eating is way too much to get my head around. I am full of anti-symptom drugs. As for sex and rock and roll, I have no interest. THAT'S how sick I am.

Sick as a dog, cos you really ain't that young.

Thank you, Mister Tyler (sex and drugs and rock and roll icon that you are) for those all so true, yet non-comforting words.

Mo' Better Blues

I was going to resume my daily ramblings today. But I am sick. Not the sniffly sneezy sick. The goo spewing, head exploding, gut retching sick. I don't just get a cold, I get the flu. I don't just get an infection, I get some alien mutant virus type thing trying to take over my entire body. I have been on the couch for 2 days now. Changed clothes once. Eaten nothing. Feel like crap. And get this. You would think that after going thru what I refer to as a very successful pharmaceutical period in my life, OTC cold medicines WOULD NOT effect me like I was dropping acid. The Tolerant One (and HE IS) found me this morning in the kitchen doing an Elvis impersonation, singing a song about space monkeys.

Last nite, as Mister Tolerant (and HE IS) was heading up to bed, he kissed me on the forehead, tentatively, so as not to catch any germs and said " You'll be mo' better in the morning, babe."

I am not mo' better. I am mo' sick.

Tomorrow's a day of mine that you won't be in

I am taking a hiatus. A vacation. A respite. A leave of absence. My world has gotten a little too virtual lately.

So blog away, babies, and I will catch up with you in a week or so. Maybe my heart will grow fonder. And maybe, JUST maybe, my desk will be cleared off, my taxes will be done, and all these little procrastination imps that are twisting around in my head will loose their battle.

A week without you
Thought I'd forget
Two weeks without you and I
Still haven't gotten over you yet

Vacation
Had to get away
Vacation
Meant to be spent alone

The Go-Go's

Schoolhouse rock

Things they don't teach you in art school, Part Two

There is a reason why they say not to use aerosol spray paint or varnish in a confined space. The result a new technique will produce is not what you want, necessarily. Not the first few times, at least. No matter how careful you are, or how diligently you clean your work space, little gobs of goo and bits of unidentifiable stuff end up embedded in the wet paint you just put on your work. Having an artist block is not a bad thing. It allows you to clean your house, wash the laundry, walk the dogs.

And the most important little gleening of the day ... blasting out at mega amps the opening riff of Joe Perry and Steve Tyler (ROCK GODS that they are) doing Walk This Way first thing in the morning leads to no good. Rocking out with fully loaded paint brushes, open jars of matte medium, wearing something you really don't want to get copper paint on ... this is no good.

Just give me a kiss....like this.

Blues in the night....

Today was a total bummer. I thought something was going to happen, it didn't. I thought I could handle it, I couldn't. All I could do was curl up on the couch, in some embryonic waif position, and sleep.

Tomorrow Miss Ei and moi are going shopping for horse stuff. She wants pretty boots. I am hoping the excursion will clear my mind a bit, so I can figure out how to fix all of this.

Here we are again
and we're looking at each other as if each other were to blame.
You think you're so smart, but I've seen you naked
and I'll probably see you naked again.

Barenaked Ladies.
I should have been so lucky this morning as to be one.

Black Dog Blues

The boys.

Lucas (real name..Holly's Voodoo Chile Lucas) and Zak (real name..Zak). Together, a few hundred pounds of gangsta canine mentality. The furniture moving, sock eating, un-neutered joys of my life. Finding toys for them (other than firewood or patio furniture) is almost impossible. Lucas, the rottie, can crush one of those indestructible Kong toys in his jaws. And Zak can pretty much chew and swallow anything before I can wrench it from his mouth. Delivery men just throw the packages out of their trucks in the driveway. Any critter, including turtles, who venture into their yard space are doomed. But at least I know I am protected from intruders, interlopers and those Jehovah's Witness people.

Dog eat dog, eat cat too.
French eat frog, and I eat you.

AC/DC

She got diamonds on the soles of her shoes...

The top picture, WHICH I LOVE, I snagged from Miss Ei's blog. With her permission. Luckily, she is not one who puts little copyright images on her work. The boot pic is an example of my over-materialistic need to have everything, and more of it. Besides, when it comes to black leather riding boots, is there really ever a limit?

http://well-im-not-the-only-one.blogspot.com/ Again, check this chicky out.

She makes the sign of a teaspoon
He makes the sign of a wave
The poor boy changes clothes
And puts on after-shave
To compensate for his ordinary shoes

Paul Simon, of course.

Paint it black....

Back to my old blog template. I missed the black.

After a morning of incredible time spent on a horse, I am off to my studio. I feel to the need to run my hands over the almost dry ass of the torso thing I am working on. This has turned into another experiment of technique. Plaster tape, covered by a thin layer of instant paper mache. So far, I am not all that impressed with the results. Maybe I should just go old school, and revert back to strips of newspaper and gooey mess of water of flour.

Welcome to my world
Involve yourself within my dream
Experience a life
Just like your mind thought not to be
Take a look through time
As past or present words to be
I rule this inferno
Enthroned for eternity

Stones and Spirit in Black, by Slayer.

Everybody's got something to hide....

Cept for me and my monkey.

Those who know, don't need to ask. Those who don't, I couldn't explain.

If you want to kiss the sky
Better learn how to kneel

Beatles and Bono.

Sometimes a Jimi thing slides my way....

I don't have anything to say today. Which is a rarity in itself.

I looked into my crystal ball...
There was formed a tragedy
Oh, but there is nothing to worry about...
It was just a flash from my memory

James Marshall Hendrix

( picture courtesy of Mister Peabodys' Way Back Machine)

And it stoned me to my soul....

A gift from Miss Ei. Just because. The picture does not do it justice, the colors are much more deep and intense. I love it. His name will come to me in a dream.

Check her site out...while I was standing around holding horses, she was taking some incredible images. She has an eye for such things.

http://well-im-not-the-only-one.blogspot.com/

Today will be a good day. Intensity this morning, then a lesson with my horse trainer this afternoon, providing the rain holds. I have already been up on the roof shaking my chicken bones and talking in tongues. I REALLY want to ride today. Something about getting on a horse after intensity....

We gotta make love just one last time in the shower.....

UPDATE:
Chipping away was not so bad, but it left this white film on the torso. Too large to fit in a sink, and my tub is one of those big jacuzzi things. It's not comfortable to lean over the tiled platform around it. I speak from experience on that. I figured I would deal with it after I took my bath, then thought WHY NOT? If someone had come into my bathroom this morning, they would have found me hunkered down in the shower over this life size armless and legless man, soaping him up and rinsing him. After drying him off (the whole process had a certain amount of kink to it) back into the studio, plastic wrap, and a layer of plaster tape. He is now basking (drying) in the afterglow.

I love my life.

Baby did a bad bad thing...

New torso in progress. Only problem, Miss I Am In A Hurry yesterday morning did not put the plastic wrap on the form first. I used a new goo mixture, which has now dried and is totally un-removable. I get to spend the morning chipping it off. Brings to mind the term "hard as a rock" ( NO, not THAT connotation..don't be a guttermind).

My first idea was to put the whole thing in the tub, and soak it off. Then I thought about how I was going to explain to Mister What Were You Thinking how I clogged up the plumbing. Then I figured I would haul it outside, and turn the hose on it. Big glitch..the outside water is turned off. New and final plan, to spread out old sheets in the living room and just go at it. Space in the studio is limited, and is already a disaster. This is gonna make a big mess.

The good thing about today is that Miss Ei and I are spending the afternoon dealing with hoof trims and new shoes for the horses. Equine podiatry. Horses who are absolutely filthy from the rain and the mud. So she and I are going to the barn, rolling in the hay, and getting dirty. (guttermind)

I am going back to bed for awhile. After I get a morning dose of Mister Isaak. Goddess, DON'T I WISH......

You ever love someone so much you thought your little heart was gonna break in two?
I didn't think so.
You ever tried with all your heart and soul to get you lover back to you?
I wanna hope so.
You ever pray with all your heart and soul just to watch her walk away?

Takin care of business...

A day of work. A power lunch, contract negotiations. Terms and conditions. Considerations given. All those things required to make life work the way you want it to. Or at least something to fall back on if it doesn't.

So off comes the artist hat today, along with the riding helmet. Instead, I shall wear my crown. Queen of the Contracts. Goddess knows I have written enough of them...in a previous life I had a real estate brokerage. Pimping houses.

New torso forms arrived yesterday. If my business doesn't exhaust me to the point where I need to spend the afternoon napping, I will start on my next body piece...male...shoulders, back and ass...maybe a nice barbed wire tattoo across his shoulders. Rather symbolic of my work today.

If you ever get annoyed
Look at me I'm self-employed
I love to work at nothing all day

BTO

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

I finally mustered up the courage to go a bit techno-geek and update the looks of the blog. Which was quite a feat in itself, seeing as how I am a total computer dunce. But now I can add links.

The only bad thing about this is that I have to trek down to the basement, and go thru my collection of old vinyl. Time to re-acquaint with Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. Mr. Bowie gets the credit today.

If my week goes as planned, which it never does, art will have to take a back seat to real life stuff. My accountant is screaming for tax info. The house is a clutter bomb. I have not sat at the piano or picked up a guitar in weeks. And the studio needs a break.

Wham bam thank you ma'am.....

The Snow Queen

You're a cushion uncrumpled
You're a bed that's unruffled
The finest bone china,
Bone china around

And I believe that the snow queen
Lives somewhere in the hills
She's got the world on a string
Like white wine when it's chilled

Arms are spread like icicles
Upon a frosted cake
The snow queen reigns
Behind the cold black gates

Your talents are tested
They're polished and they're shaped
Your talents are wasted
On men of no taste

Words in my head today courtesy of Bernie Taupin

You got me on my knees...

Layla.

There seems to be a pattern developing in the naming of these girls. Subjects of admiration, devotion and heartbreak from old rock lyrics. Works for me.

This piece was a fabrication of too many techniques, mistakes and general disappointments to list. It took forever. But I am happy with her.

Misha.....this one is for you, love.

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming...

Damn. Almost 37 years ago, and I still break down. I wonder if John Filo had any idea of the effect his photograph would have.

Must have been the funk on your tummy

That damn man gave me his tummy bug. And I don't have time for it today. I have some mojo to work on someone this morning. I am supposed to ride this afternoon. I want to do something with the torso in progress that cracked while drying. And all I can seem to do is lay on the couch listening to The Low Spark Of High Heeled Boys. And Dear Mister Fantasy. This may not be so bad after all.

Not feelin too good myself.

Hey, I put some new shoes on....

....and suddenly everything is right.

No art today. I have other things to do. And I don't need an excuse, cos I'm wearing my brand new shoes.

Paolo Nutini. Check this guy out. Good tunes.

I asked of her name, and in a dark brown voice she said....

Lola.

Since I don't have some big clay stretching pasta machine or a kiln ( I am VERY jealous, Tammy) I did this with papier-mache. The process produced some lessons, which will, I hope, be evident in the next piece in the series. I suppose this woman will truly be a sum of her parts.

For you, I would tattoo me
With lines crossing into a hand,
And a heart that would never bleed.
The twilight and the horse
Drawn on my arm
Standing for an addiction,
Pray we go unharmed.

I credit the Indigo Girls for music to inspire the muse this morning. And for some self truths revealed.

Mister Mojo Risin

Work in progress. A mess in the studio involving lots of gooey stuff. The kind of project that requires drying time before the next step. With any luck, it should be ready to make its debut here by early next week. So back I go, to work a bit more mojo on this thing.

Speaking of mojo, I can only hope that when I cross thru the veil, Mister Morrison, along with Hendrix, Joplin, and Lennon, will be there to party with. I plan on sleeping post mortem with all of them. Will I be a lucky little lady in the city of lights? Or just another lost angel.... city of night?

Good times, bad times...

You know I've had my share.

But the last 24 hours have been INCREDIBLY good times. Valentine's Day was never one of my favorite holidays. But sitting at the dinner table last nite, between my two gorgeous men, may have changed my way of thinking about that. One of them who knows me well enough to know that roses and candy are not my idea of a good gift. I loathe the smell of roses, and I certainly don't need any candy. And the other one, who knew just what effect a black skeleton leaf would have on me. I hope they appreciated the gifts they received in return. There is a certain joy in the giving.........

Lunch today with a somewhat new, yet somehow old friend reminded me that my circle is indeed expanding...and I like that. It was very comfortable. Thank you sweetie, and you can nest in my roost anytime you like.

Enough of the hearts and flowers sentiment here. Back to my real life, where not all things are as they seem. Cept for the whips and chains...THOSE are VERY real.

You're as cold as ice

This morning, Mother Earth and Father Sky provide the artwork.

Soul shine......better than sunshine

Another one of my Taos pieces. I should do another workshop there. Woman artists, at this very cool place (used to be owned by Dennis Hopper) for a week of creating. This morning, I went back to the warmth of New Mexico.

Let your soul shine, babies...cause it's damn sure better than rain.

I am sinking in this silence

No art today, no ranting, no nothing.

Some things are just so damn good words are not adequate.

Rock and roll never forgets

So you're a little bit older and a lot less bolder
Than you used to be
So you used to shake em down
But now you stop and think about your dignity
So now sweet sixteens turned thirty-one (yeah,right)
You get to feelin weary when the work days done
All you got to do is get up and into your kicks
If you're in a fix
Come back baby
Rock and roll never forgets

Courtesy of Mister Seeger. 'Nuff said.

Then the Piper will lead us to reason

I had to create today. Maybe I just wanted the comfort and security that the old shirt I paint in gives me. This is another one of my tissue paper deals...with a bit of paint over it. It's based on another piece I did a few years ago, and gave away. I think I should have kept it, I like the first one better. Maybe it will come back to me someday. I like it when things I thought were long gone come back to me. Or maybe all of my thoughts are misgiven.

Don't you know that you are a shooting star...

This is as good place to vent as any. Over a month ago, I ordered a custom pair of riding pants. They got the color right, and the little suede star on the butt, but when I got them, it was obvious they made them for someone who wore a child's size. Which would not be me. So I re-ordered them, and this time, they got the size right, but there was no star. And I really wanted that star. I called them this morning, and told them I would be returning pair #2. Their fault. When I pay that much for something custom, I expect it to be perfect, and just as I ordered it. Now, ONE WOULD THINK that the owner of the company, whom I spoke with, might say...We are SO SORRY, and if you can live with the fact that there is no star on your butt, keep the pants at no cost. BUT NO. So they have lost a good customer. A customer who, after singing the praises of said pants at the barn, would have surely sent them some referral business. A customer who, however, is NOT going to give them a third chance. I am surprised I gave them the second one.

I really wanted that star on my butt.

My baby's got a secret...

Some people keep their skeletons in a closet. I keep mine in the bath tub.

You're the one who
Asked for this
Next time think before you wish

Promises made...

I wanted to ride today, but it's too cold. I wanted to paint today, but my muse is not cooperating. I hoped to get my office in some sort of organized state, instead of the paper work bomb scene that it is. I made a promise to someone last nite, and it seems to be the only thing that my little brain can think of today.

I tried to love you for years upon years
But you refuse to take me for real
It's time you saw what I want you to see
That I'd still love you if you just love me

Can you imagine being the woman that Eric wrote those lyrics for? Lucky bitch.

Wild horses couldn't drag me away

This is Boo. Registered name..... A Beauty Investment. And normally, she is. But today, a combination of a full moon and the fact that she is just coming out of heat made her anything but beautiful. K, who is my surrogate rider, and in charge of making sure Miss Boo is cool, calm, and collected when I get on her, hit the ground hard. You would have thought that mare was a bucking rodeo bronco. Then she charged back to the barn like a race horse. There was no stopping her until she ran herself into a fence. Gratefully, K was not hurt. Thankfully, neither was Boo. Luckily, I was not the one on her back. So we are now charting her cycles, in attempt to NOT have these events coincide in the future. I thought my days of concern over such things were over. Guess not.

A day in the life

It's been an interesting 24 hours. Tammy graced me with her presence for lunch yesterday, and we talked about addictions, afflictions, and ambitions. Check this chicky out...she does some incredible work. www.tammyvitale.com

Last night, a man whom I had not thought of in years brought back memories I was not even aware that I had. Frightfully familiar. Revelations.

My art entry for the day. I did this at a workshop in Taos a few years ago. The teacher asked us to do something with tissue paper. Not a medium I usually work in. But I like the colors and textures.

I need to get on the horses today. And sort out the little imps tap dancing in my head.

The needle and the damage done

I think a person, including their body, should be a work in progress. I consider my body as a canvas, and I paint and pierce it. And like some of my art, at times, I re-paint and re-pierce and change things until I am more satisfied with the results. This is an example of such. A surgical removal of a tattoo, and a cover-up of another. My only regret is that I did not keep the skin they cut off. I would have preserved and framed it. But the doctor wanted it. I wonder why.

Paint It Black....NOT

Another one of my totally out of character pastel experiments. I did this by stretching those halloween cobwebby things over a sheet of hot press water color paper, wetting it, and then spraying color and letting it run down the webs. I think I should have used more webbies. This makes one hell of a mess. Tipping the paper, which was secured to a fiber board, made lots of little puddles of paint on my work space. Best done outside, I would think.

And then there were four.....

Seems like three were not enough. Last weekend, a friend and I became co-conspirators on another horse. Jessie. An appaloosa, dead broke, bomb proof and just a joy to ride. So good, she doesn't even need a bit, I ride her in a halter and a rope for reins. Yahoo. So my art is on hold for awhile, while I spend frigid hours at the barn, spoiling her with attention. Mark, my partner in crime on this one, can ride her western, while I deal with her under an english saddle. My old man thinks I am totally insane, but as always, lets me make my own deals, and then lets me handle the consequences, be they good or bad. But these will be good ones. Now, where is my Mountain cd? Seems I am in the mood for Leslie West and Theme From An Imaginary Western.

Music to inspire the muse

There is a direct connection between what music I am listening to and what my paintings turn out to be. Lovely, soft, introspective music inspires lovely, soft, introspective paintings. Rock produces more dramatic things...more color, more movement, more fun (in my opinion). The blues churn out something in between. I don't listen to rap or, GODDESS FORBID, disco....( I had to live thru that era, and am NOT going back). I don't have much of a selection of country music either, and classical, well, that would put me to sleep.

I want to paint this morning. Clapton, the Stones, Lynyrd Skynyrd and to continue the retro theme, maybe some Cars. I heard Let The Good Times Roll yesterday, and it's still tripping thru my head.

I know, its only rock and roll.....

There is unrest in the forest

I don't know where this came from, but I know I like the idea of cutting something up and putting it on something else. Now, if I could only find my RUSH cd, my morning would be complete.

"But the oaks can't help their feelings
If they like the way they're made
And they wonder why the maples
Can't be happy in their shade....."

Damn. This takes me back to memories of a certain time, a certain young man, and a summer spent in lust. I think I might have even loved him.

Lessons learned #1

Lesson number one: I can not, should not, and will not use a warm palatte anymore. The neutrals...brown, beige, grey, gold, copper...(I consider metallics neutrals)...fine choices. The cool blues and purples and greens, good to go. I guess this was one of the things I would have learned if I had concentrated more in art classes.

I also know that trying to finish one piece of anything in one day is not an option. So new game plan...art every 3 or 4 days.

Why I never finished art school

The reason for this post will become apparent in those that follow. I never finished art school. Back in the 70's (ahem) I went directly from high school to college. The Art Institute of Atlanta. No summer vacation, no last 3 months of debauchery before I embarked on what was to be the education necessary to pursue my chosen career. I was 18, and quickly discovered why my college town was called Hot'Lanta. I was legal to drink in the state of Georgia, and conveniently hooked up with a bartender. Roy and I had a blast, but my studies suffered horribly. Daddy's money spent real good down there. After the first year, it was very apparent that I did not have the dedication, determination, or motivation to stay focused on anything but parties, southern rock and the boys from Georgia Tech. My parents seemed relieved when I told them I wanted to come home, find a job, and put my studies on hold. So that is what I did. I financed my lifestyle doing a number of things...working retail, which I HATED, and repossessing cars, which I LOVED. But my time in college was not all a waste. I got to meet Greg Allman (Duane was already dead), learned how to do shots of Jack Daniels, and realized the necessity of checking your shoes before you left the ladies room. Somewhere, hidden deep in a memory I would rather repress, there is an image of me strolling out of a bar bathroom in the Underground, with at least 4 feet of toilet paper trailing behind me on the floor. Oh those wacky college days.

A long time coming....

OK kids, time to get back with the program here. No looking back, no missing things that are not there anymore. Over the past few weeks, I have learned that unless I keep myself totally balanced nothing good comes my way. A lesson learned the hard way. And balance comes from time with the horses, time in my studio, and indulging in things that perhaps only I can see the benefit from. I took an idea from another blog, and am doing Art Every Day. Each day, SOMETHING MUST come out of my studio, creative wise. It does not matter what it is, as long as it is finished. Right now, this is about quantity, and not quality. I revel in my successes, and learn from my mistakes. So far, the mistakes have not been too costly. In my art, or my other pursuits.

Seduction of the Innocent

Sometimes, a new pair of boots can change a girls' outlook on life.

Hello cowgirl in the sand......

He is leaving again for another race, this time, for 10 days. 10 whole glorious days of a not so messy house, clean laundry, a tidy kitchen. 10 whole horrid days of sleeping alone in a big bed, having to deal with all the animals, and having no one but myself to complain to. 10 whole creative days of painting and playing music. 10 whole frustrating days of not having someone to listen to my music, or critique my art. Art which, at the moment, involves something called Creepy Cobwebs, little spray bottles of color, and a really big mess. There is a local show next month, and The Muse willing, I will have a couple of things to hang. Or maybe I will just paint a sign. " Wanted. Cowboy, or reasonable facsimile thereof. Must know how to ride. Maximum time needed, 10 days. Horse not necessary." Yahoo.

Things they don't teach you in art school....

Never expect a finished piece to be what you first intended it to be. Painting in the abstract takes less finesse (–noun 1. extreme delicacy or subtlety in action, performance, SKILL, discrimination, taste, etc.) than painting something that is supposed to look realistic. People are willing to pay way more for your work than the value you place on it. If you think your work is worth more, than you are mistaken. Mixing colors in oil and acrylic is far easier than with watercolors, mine always turn out looking like mud. Which is ok, if you are painting mud. Framing a piece is the most expensive part. And trying to take a photo of your work is very difficult. The colors never come out right. No wonder they say artists are temperamental. Look what we have to put up with.

Gather the horses, boys......

I knew it was just a matter of time. He got a horse. Baggy. Off the track, and a far removed decendant of Man o'War. He had been riding Baggy for over a year now, and when the owner threatened to move the horse, he couldn't let that happen. So we now have three. Jaz and Boo are quite tolerant of their new step brother. And Baggy is a laid back, happy horse.... glad for all the extra attention.

Too much of a good thing...life

I know, I have not posted anything in months. Not because my life has been static, just the opposite. The mundane world has kept me so busy that the virtual computer scene is not high on my list of priorities. But I am going thru a bit of down time now, thanks to a tumble off one of my horses last weekend. After 5 hours in the emergency room, and a trip to the orthopedic doc, the diagnosis is a seperated shoulder and a hairline fracture of my collar bone. Lovely.

Before this incident, however, I have been one happy camper. A couple of people who I missed dearly have drifted back into my life, and even though it is not as it once was, its nice. Frustrating, but nice. I have picked up my music again, and my fingers and wrists are sore from contortionistic stretches on the keyboard and guitars.

The crappiest thing about this shoulder is that it is keeping me off the horses. Until the accident, I had been riding at least once, if not twice, a day. I was at the barn this morning, and the sight of horse butts walking off into the distance, sans me, was a real bummer. But if that's all I can complain about right now, hell, I suppose I am still one lucky girl. One lucky girl with a refillable prescription for Vicodin. No need to suffer too much, right?

Some days are better than others

And today was one of the best. I am riding a high from talking to an old friend yesterday. An invitation to see people I have not seen for over a year arrived. I rode for a long time, the horse was good, and so was I. One of my dogs, who almost died last weekend, is home now, and back to his old self. And I have hit the delete button on my computer several times today, getting rid of things and people who are no longer a good thing (a process that needs to continue). I am taking action on both some short and long term goals, after finally figuring out a reasonable approach to accomplish them. I just hope this feeling hangs around for a bit. Or I could wake up tomorrow morning, and forget everything I thought of today.

Be in Peace, babies, because nothing else really matters.

Yin Yang Horse

This is Jaz. She is 4, and a most perfect little girl. I fell in love with her immediately, and bought her without ever getting on her back. She tests me, she tries my patience, she argues with me. And yet she forgives me when I am too hard on her bit, or I tighten the girth another notch. There is a special bond that can form between a woman and a horse. Luckily, I have two that give me that connection. Jaz is my source of balance when my world gets a little funky. My trainer, Miss Jennifer Juniper, says that I am her only student that sings and laughs out loud while riding. Hey, if that is my one claim to fame as an equestrian, I am more than happy to live with it.

Mask

My initial attempt at clay. Not sure I like it. It seems unfinished. Maybe I was afraid to do more to it. I couldn't even give this piece a name. One of my creative demons is the voice that tells me minimalism is better than over doing. I tend to stop before I am totally satisfied with a piece, afraid I will screw it up beyond salvage. This does not transfer over into my real life though. I am the one who always pushes the conversation, the conflict, the comments, too far. I wish I could be as restraintive with my words as I am with my art.

Lift my days, light up my nights

Must be the season of the witch

At times, one just needs to refocus a bit. Forget the armful of tax returns I have to mail tomorrow. Forget the fact that it hasn't rained, and the pastures are dry, hard and dusty. Forget the fact that my desk, and my entire house, looks as if a mess bomb has exploded. Instead, I focus on the grounding and balance that occurs when I am barefoot in the sand. The extra energy in the horses. More hours of daylight to play outside. What colors I want in my garden this year. The anticipation of seeing old friends at Fires Rising. Beltane is approaching, darlings, and I plan to celebrate it in the most appropriate way.

Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little girl

WTF are THESE things? This picture, along with several others, are filled with them. The photos were taken with different digital cameras, and the spots are not the same size, or in the same place, knocking out the theory of dust or water on the lens. No flash was used, so they are not reflections. And being digital, that takes away the possibility of film abnormalities. Ghost orbs? Residual energies? Whatever they are, so far, they have been quiet guests.

Baby got a new pair of shoes

These lovelies defy all explanations, and cross the line where any level of comfort is concerned. That's why I love them. Defiant shoes. Impossible shoes. Cruel shoes. Devious shoes. Shoes to be worn only when laying down.

Letting go

Sometimes, to get something, you have to give something up. I call it house cleaning...clearing out things, ideas, and people who are no longer an asset to me. And when those spaces that those things occupied become empty, it leaves a vessel to be refilled. The worth of the filling things is not always recognized, but over time, I come to realize their value. I experience this a lot when it comes to people. I put someone out of my life, and another comes along, to take me in a new direction. And they are not always new people. Sometimes, an old one wanders in. Welcome back.