Haven't posted in a while- a lot of change has happened to me in the last few months:
So I had been doing domestic Peace Corps work near the boarder in Amado, AZ as a program coordinator for a youth center-
Things were going really well. I was doing good work, facilitating art classes for disadvantaged youth, and working within the behavioral health field of Arizona.
Then, out of nowhere- things began to change for me out in the desert. I lost my cat, my aunt, and began to question whether the work I was doing was benefiting the youth and rest of the community in Amado. My attitude grew grey towards my work, and my life on the boarder. I was broke, lonely, and burnt out- and then, suddenly, I had gotten into a serious accident. I had to leave my job, my home, and my life I had made in Amado.
Getting through all of the confusion, frustration, and depression, I am currently in a good spot within the healing process and healing more and more as the days pass
I am now with my boyfriend again
Living in Flagstaff
Eating Raw
Walking again
Hiking again
And slowly getting back into the swing of things, with this new chapter in life that I'm so grateful to be given
I believe that an adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered, and an inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered. I have me a long way to go, but I've been enjoying every step so far. Will continue to keep everyone updated!
So I've become reminiscent of my heavy poetry days. I
miss my family of poets, and their words- the moments when we were all
electric and fed off of each others' light. The casual beer drinking and
boisterous rants of life and love. We were bulletproof back then. I'd
give a limb and tooth for these people. Here's a video of one of our
first recorded shows: I think we all did amazing. I'm the last poet!
FOR ANTEAUS SOLOMON
In a town that breaks us- I
FEEL LIKE BROCCOLI! Echoes somewhere through the ether of the
dim-lit morning. Put no limitation on the word. I wonder if you too have ever
felt like a natural slave. “In
this city I say nothing. My plan was simply to live.” I see you’re still lit by
shadow, but what is living when you are ripped from the ground beneath you,
only to be fed to the baying Hounds of War, lost in the confusion of machines. Where
the home-free haggard and outsiders of the star spangled home of the free, land
of the sick and tired wonder the streets naked and dirty, weeping in hunger for
the unconditional love by the mule-backed brothers and sisters of the
generation! We
struggle with the weight of our love under the strain and misfortunes of
anxiety, and confusion- dissatisfaction and beguile. Solitude, separation, and
the endless, endless, endless, endless, endless depression.
I FEEL LIKE BROCCOLI! Says the wife who sits behind
the glass, unheard and unappreciated by the man who once freed her from the
pilgrimage away from her quintessential self and from her fluent feline
speaking family and friends. Her soul has now become an iridescent silhouette,
forever lost in the depths of the stagnant waters of the abyss.
I FEEL LIKE BROCCOLI! Whispers the man in the iron
chair, who was wrongfully given the predetermined fate of Cassiopeia. He stares
into the backdrop canopy of stars as thick as milk. He would dig his way out of
this death hole with one hand if he could, resurrecting himself out of the
flames of this burning madhouse, but instead is left to burn alive, choking on
the smoke of our societies disillusion under the vast Western sky.
I FEEL LIKE BROCCOLI! Screams the man driven by
madness by his waking nightmare of the psychic vampires who come to him in his
sleep. Growing old in the house of the stimulus bottom feeders with nothing to
show for it but notebooks that tower over him like skyscrapers, and his mouth
falling apart like the Mona Lisa. He cries with the thought of the decade.
This
is for the catatonic conversationalists who contemplate the death of art and
how the world has always been flat. For the autistic aristocrats that sit on
the thrones of our kingdom of compost, we have been waiting, WE. HAVE. BEEN.
WAITING within this cosmic void of per-ejaculated endeavors for the radical
shift into post- modern tribalism and the rediscovery of higher conciseness.
For all the people like me! Who lie, cheat, and steal for the sake of the
people we love!This is a war cry! This
is for Ray Johnson, Jesus Crist, and Abner Jay! Hugo Ball, Nick Drake, and for
Brautigan too!Henry Darger, Morgan
Blackgoat, and Hemingway! To all the holy niggers of the world who walk these
sad streets of loneliness singing the wild cocaine blues of mind- altering
reality! This is a fire! This is a voodoo holler incantation to set back the
unforgiving hammer hands of time, reverse the axis of the world to the day
where our hands once told you who you where as now the chemtrails, chemtrails
engraved in the palm of our hands only tell us where we’re going, and I am sad
to say it’s NOWHERE!
There
must be a way to escape this fresh hell of plastic and pavement. DIVINE
TRANSPORTATION! Take me to the gates of heaven! Where there are angels fucking
on the freeway, and God,
Jesus, Joseph, Moses, Allah, Buddha, Krishna, Dharma, Karma, Cosmic Muffin,
Siddartha, Marsha, Marsha, Marsha, Mother Nature, all the Haters, all the
Lovers, Danny Glover, The Power, The One-ness, The Highness, The Lowness, West
Coast Shit, The Ocean, Magic Potions, Emotion, and The Ever Constant and
Present Motion greets me with open arms. With a smile they welcome me home and
say “We’ve been waiting for you. You beautiful stoic, you divine broken soul,
rest the rags and bones of you. Under this diamond studded sheet of stars, may
you lay on the bed of the milky way! As they lick, lick lick, lick my wounds clean and I will lay
myself down, with my legs open to the sun, as he penetrates me with his romance
and song, he sings a deep throated songbird lullaby of the blues in my ear of
memories that have never been told. The intuitive self secrets of life he
whispers: ART. EAT. FUCK. ART. EAT. FUCK. ART. EAT. FUCK. ART. EAT. FUCK.
Let
us tear down the walls of the introverted hallway to each others’ artichoke
hearts, let us peel the layers of skin and clothing and embrace each others
naked truth of sincerity through the immaculate cunt and the cock and balls
unbound. Let us no longer wave our fists like Nazi jailers in the air, begging
for the keys to our freedom from the hollowed eyed soul snatching shrewds, who
sit of the tops of the totem pole. But instead, whisper our dreams in hand, and
use these fists like radiant space ships, and beam them to the moon! Like
illuminated raindrops scattered across the road! Ride, ride on the coat-tails
of shooting stars. Ride On
Here's a small eclectic bunch of photos of previous work I've done. I'm not one to be very good about documenting or understanding the importance of sharing work, but it wasn't until last year when I knew I wanted to handle my art and the way I educate more seriously, that I want to try to reflect on the things I was working on in the past- decipher what I was trying to say through my work and how I was feeling. And perhaps continue from there. I believe art starts with an initial question of the quintessential, and within that process, the surface being tries to find that connection- inward and outward. And depending on who you are, sharing that process with others is crucial towards your development as an artist.
Also, Southern Arizona is one of the most beautiful places! it's raining here in Amado, and I'm loving every minute of it. The smell of the rain and cool air reminds me of my many places I call home. There are areas here that remind me of Colorado, Montana, and even Georgia. I love it here.
Random thoughts from the middle of the week!
Not sure if it was the 4 years as an art instructor for adults with autism spectrum that has inspired me, but I'm very intrigued by shadows. I used to photograph them all the time! So much I had to do away with many of them. I also enjoy artist, James Turrell's work. Either way, I'm not going to question my fascination any further, but rediscovering these photos recently has sparked some street art ideas!
Today was definitely a battle against stress- I believe ultimately I won the war! This week has gone by so quickly with all the deadlines soon to come, I feel that before I even realize it, October will be over. This thought gives me a bit of anxiety, seeing how what I'm trying to accomplish this year is more mindfulness within each day. A quick breakfast this morning with the horses, followed by emails and prep for Creative Choices class today- which, I feel as painful and drawn out I feel class went today, (we explored the term and learned about making choices of compromise), I feel that overall it went well. A lot of comfort food today, along with listening to a bit of records this evening. Also made a recording of my older SOUL HOLE podcasts to send to my friend Sam in Seattle- and, to top off the night, a bit of art therapy!
