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.