Posts Tagged ‘mom’

I’m over it now.

Sunday, April 27th, 2014

I’d stopped really writing here for a while.

I did it because someone who was formerly influential to me in my life, who is historically by far the most damaging and hurtful person I’ve ever experienced a relationship with, shamed and mocked me for it, and for my artwork, and basically said a lot of really fucked up cruel shit to me.

This reenactment a few months ago spawned a wave of child devastation that I am still struggling through but haven’t written about.

Whether I choose to write about the actual incident here, I have not decided.

What I have decided is that I don’t care what she thinks.

So in case you haven’t noticed, I’m back.

Monday, December 17th, 2012

“Hurt people hurt people. That’s how pain patterns gets passed on, generation after generation after generation. Break the chain today. Meet anger with sympathy, contempt with compassion, cruelty with kindness. Greet grimaces with smiles. Forgive and forget about finding fault. Love is the weapon of the future.” — Yehuda Berg

<3 Mother Linda.

Saturday, February 4th, 2012

Little old Lady in Pasadena

Wednesday, August 10th, 2011

I hear periodically that I’m little, though I don’t feel little by any stretch, and I’m currently in Pasadena, and I’m so getting old, so.. there you go.

I’ve been pretty busy since passing through Sacramento and heading to Vegas. Facebook is being updated periodically and I’m racking up the foursquare points, but as far as journal entries and online expression that requires wireless access, laptop power and the time/energy to author more than a sentence or so, I’ve been pretty lacking for the most part.

Defcon 19 was great. 18 was a bit better for me in terms of convention energy, but the party I went to this year was way swankier. It’s somewhat ridiculous how much money gets dumped into this scene now that so many key players have grown up and gotten rich. It’s been a very interesting 16 year path, and I love reconnecting with that community on a consistent basis, even if it’s only once or twice a year at conventions.

I made my gas money home massaging at DC and enough extra to get a mani-pedi to offset the horrific treatment of my hands and feet over the weekend in Vegas, which included a night in high heels that ended up in my hands for the 1/2 mile walk back to the Rio at something like 4am Saturday morning. :P

Yesterday was a fair bit of hauling around in the car and running errand like things, but I did finally get a chance to lay by a pool and pick up some color after busting my ass for 3 days massagingg in Vegas. I am noticing the vitamin D — even though I generally dislike this place, I’m pretty balanced and serene about it. I also got to hang out with Matt and sit with him for a bit while he got an infusion, which I appreciated being able to share with him, because clearly, I am fucking weird.

I slept until noon today, got my nails and feet done, ate some awesome food at Oh Happy Day, and am currently enjoying the hell out of a Starbucks and a little taste of home. Which is somewhat funny, because I actually discovered Starbucks when I still lived out here. So it’s a bit of a mishmash of carefree summer when I was 15 and drinking vanilla lattes, and a sense of comfort and home of the decaf Americano I now have between massages at work in Pioneer Square.

I think I’m going to have to add Starbucks to another of my guilty fandoms, like Justin Timberlake and Beiber and Twilight (the second movie). It doesn’t matter where the fuck I am, if I can find a Starbucks, I know I can find a good coffee, some internet, and a comfortable place to kill some time.

I’m still thinking about what it was like to go back to where I lived in Wilton. It was such an intense and also subtle experience to be out there, with so little having changed in 20 years. The cavities in my body well up with a full emptiness just scratching the surface of it, and it’s impressive to me how much profundity and sadness is there.

I know it will take me a few hours and a lot of energy to post about that, and I will, and it will be good and I will enjoy it. But for now, and for one of the very few times during my trip, I am simply relaxing, in amazing weather, with a smile on my face, and no place in particular I need to be.

SEAF 2011

Wednesday, May 25th, 2011

Thank you to Adam Harrison for shooting this image, and so much to everyone who attended the Seattle Erotic Art Festival and allowed me a window into themselves this weekend. I was ambiently performing both Friday and Saturday evenings on a pedestal.

Some of the connections through that mask were absolutely amazing. So many people at the festival were so willing to fall into temporary possession, allowing themselves to be arrested, mesmerized, for a few moments and often longer. Through intense eye contact, stalking, mirrored movements, and even touch, I felt many connections with people I may never see again.

It was most definitely a Jekyll and Hyde kind of weekend for me, full of fragile connection contrasted against a sinister smoldering prowess. I found the performing intense, rich, fulfilling, challenging, and without words – Just how I like it.

In addition to being invovled in David Peterman’s Common Thread piece, I was also involved in Jim Wilkinson’s much more personal “Naked Truth” project. Jim and his models discuss what makes the model tick, and then choose something personal and likely secretive to paint on their body to be photographed. At SEAF, Jim displayed 45 16×20″ canvas prints on about 16sqft of wall space.

A project like this one has me written all over it (haww), and given what I’ve been up to with my internal work lately, I jumped at the chance to do this. Jim and I talked for nearly an hour, until I decided what I wanted to say. It ended up being about mom.

I stayed for dinner, and as we talked, we got to discussing how, for an erotic festival, there wasn’t a lot of erotic content in the project. So, I decided right then something else I wanted to say, and offered to come back to get a second picture taken, looking different enough that I could be in the project twice without it being too obvious.

About 4 days after the first amazing shot, we got this amazing shot.

Fucking. Awesome. I love my life. I was impressed with the festival this year and the tremendous amount of work that was obviously put into the event, and it was great to be ready to return after many years away for personal reasons.

Note: These are my versions of the images post-processed my way. The images submitted to SEAF slightly differ. Also; that’s my real-life utility belt. Because, as we all know by now, I’m the fuckin’ Batman.

Four of my favorite words

Sunday, May 15th, 2011

“You blew my mind”.

It’s most often difficult for me to accept that I have a fan base, and I think part of the reason I stay small is the fear surrounding embracing that and what kind of person that makes me. For me to think of myself as a person with fans… I just cringe at the size my ego must be and how much work it would take to keep it appropriately inflated. I know there are people out there with healthy esteem who could recognize fandom without fucking it up somehow but that doesn’t feel like something I have the wisdom to do yet. I’m not ready to handle fame gracefully.

And then I remember, that wisdom is what I’m cultivating in my life right now. Bringing feeling intuition into perspective, reevaluating how much hold I allow it to have on what makes my reality. I read back on that second paragraph up there, and I already don’t agree with myself. I already think it’s silly to be afraid of success like that.

So let me say this, as deeply and sincerely as I ever have; Thank you so much to the fans of my work. I am really blessed to have the kind of encouragement and support I have from the people who’ve noticed what I’m up to in life. You consistently overwhelm and fuel me in ways I couldn’t ever comprehend asking for. Thank you so much for being so generous toward me with your praise.

I can feel another layer of the gnarled, debilitating onion I carry around in my guts being peeled off like a piece of scotch tape against a hairy arm. That’s what sharing my stories with you does for me. That’s the kind of inner work you enable me to accomplish by allowing me into your lives the way you do. It’s inexplicable pure soul sharing and it goes both ways.

I have worked so FUCKING hard peeling at this thing inside me that was fucking my life up, fucking up how I thought, fucking up how I was capable of seeing the world, how I was capable of being with people. I’ve learned so much. And now I use my hard won abilities from that experience to come to meet, and stimulate, the hearts in others.

‘The task of art is to turn tears into knowledge’ – Schopenhauer

I shift lives. That’s what I’ve done with the desperate, massive mindfuck of a place that I came from. I earned this. I want to be doing this. I want to be this person. And I embrace and accept every beautiful thing I was told because of Friday night. Thank you so very much to all the guests and performers who made it an utterly amazing, transformative experience.

I see you guys. Thank you for letting me know you’re watching. I’ll keep on sharing and I’ll keep on kicking ass. For me. And for you.


Wednesday, August 11th, 2010

Suddenly realizing, while our new roommate plays our piano: One of the precious few, cherished childhood memories I have, is of my mothers piano practicing lofting through our house, and how I could tell if she was sad or happy by how and what she played.