The Day

The day I want to kill myself
it isn’t the day I have a crisis
it isn’t the day I cry for hours
it isn’t the day I cut myself
it isn’t the day I am angry, miserable and filled with rage and hurt

That’s the day I want to scheme
to tie a noose
to make sure it fits over my head
to find a spot
to make sure it’s hidden from sight
to find a stump
to make sure it’s easy to knock over
to write a note
to cry and scream in frustration and hurt when I realize today isn’t the day

The day I want to kill myself is
when I feel the cool breeze over my face
when I can hear the birds chirping around me
when I feel calm and present in my body
when the day has gone well and there isn’t a thing in the world making me knock over that stump

That’s the day I want to kill myself
a good day a happy day
a day where I say that was a full life
a day where I say that was a good time
a day where one tear escapes my left eye and runs all the way down my cheek until it reaches my chin and then it hops off to land on and be absorbed into my shirt
a day where that tear has to run past a smile before I knock over my stump.

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What a Luxury

I have come to a lot of new understandings in the past year due to changing experiences and perspective aka, being poor and having 3 kids. These aren’t the things I want to share, they aren’t the joy, the love, the compassion, the growth, the power, the strength I have gained. No these are the ugly, the horrible, the depressing and the crushing I have experienced. I share this here because I have nowhere else to share it. No platform, no time, no people except y’all. Thank you for lending your ear, err your eyes.

And remember, I am currently the best person I have ever been, I’m struggling, sure, but I’m growing. Growth doesn’t happen in times of happiness and joy, but through hardship and challenge.

Luxury is so very perspective based but whatever you deem luxury feels luxurious.

When I was a kid luxury was a bar I couldn’t achieve. Over time it lowered and a few years ago luxury felt like a watermelon, and fresh cooked corn on the cob. Now my bar for luxury is much lower. Peeing alone and undisturbed is a luxury, having 3 dollars on me feels like luxury, having time to write, make art, putting up insulation in my room in the attic feels like luxury, having the ability to ride a bike or a long board or even just go on a walk feels like a luxury. Heck, having a adult conversation feels like luxury.

The luxury I failed to fully comprehend though I acknowledged it was the luxury to dumpster diving. There was so much joy there and the bounty was just that, a bounty of luxurious goods. But this luxury no longer feels like one though, my bounty has begun to feel like a burden. That’s because food from the dumpster feels much more liberating and exciting when you don’t need it to be there. It seems to be how you come at it: without expectation. Meanwhile I jump in these cans questing for a lunch, I have 5 pennies in my wallet and $8.55 of my ACCESS card and I plan on using that to buy something for the kids. These frozen donuts feel like my salvation. Yet they crush me when I realize their importance to me.

Immersing myself in emotions, while normally these were negative emotions, cutting, suicidal thoughts, depression, now feel like luxuries too. I long to feel my hurt, to have the space and the energy to have them consume me. I currently feel a dark cloud that I used to call nihilism and depression. I keep it at arms distance most of the time, but I call upon it when I have a chance to feel it’s overwhelming pressure. I can conjure up tears sitting alone for just minutes now. Time has become so much more valuable and much more well used.

I even have a fucked up day dream along that same line. When the kids are older and the time is freer, I desire to go on a journey like the journey’s I once had and often dream of. A journey of nothing, no destination or point, no resources or burdens. A wandering journey where I just go. A journey where I have my bags and my transportation. Maybe I sleep in a tent outside, maybe I sneak into a hiding spot in a building somewhere. I use what there is around, I just walk a lot, sit a lot and ponder and explore. Then when this time comes to an end, when I am off the map alone and lonely for a few days or few weeks, I disappear to hang my last moments from a noose or dead in a ditch.

I hope to be back to write more for ya’ll. I have a poem called “Bloody Fists” coming out next week or so.

Summer Love Playlist 2016.8

Here is my most recent playlist. While most of them focus upon a time in my life this one more seems to focus around a person in my life, Half Elegant (previously known as R). We were involved for 3 months, most of this time I wasn’t really into it. I was trying to find a balance between friends and lovers, we clearly weren’t friends and I didn’t feel like she was a lover. The balance was never reached. This is why the cd is being release now, it’s the end of an time period, the time period I call “Summer Love.” I can’t say this title isn’t ironically named, but I will confirm that “love” is a complicated thing with our without quotes around it.

1. Totally Confused – Beck

This is what I listened to at the end of Half Elegant and my relationship. Melancholy, raw, disorienting (other songs on the album highlight this). This is how I felt.

2. Skinny Love – Bon Iver

I first heard this in the Wire Tap episode Never Say I Love You. The episode has a segment about people in love, without their lover anymore. People holding on, struggling, feeling sad, and still feeling love. It is followed up by this song. I started to cry when I was biking home, I started to feel. Half Elegant made it hard for me to feel she just wanted too much. Now that we are apart I am able to feel what I wanted without holding back, finally. And I biked home listening to this on repeat while getting teary eyed and feeling love.

3. Betty’s Bomb Shell – Group Love

Earlier in the day (months ago) I felt awful, I tried to cut myself with my work keys, they weren’t sharp enough. I went back to work and when I finally left work I felt the same way. I looked incessantly at the ground looking for a piece of broken glass. When I finally found one I found out just how dull glass from the side of the road is, so I kept biking. I stopped in Arsenal Park and sat on the ground. I thought about what I should cut myself with while listening to this song. I played it over and over again and finally I found a pepsi can. First using the tab, then using a small piece of the side of the can I repeatedly cut small cuts horizontally on my arm. This is the biggest cut on my arm and it happened whilst listening to this song.

4. Signs of Love – Moby

I can’t remember when I listened to this song, but it is one of my favorites. It reminds me of staring at the sky and smiling while listening to another Moby song, it reminds me of biking along the river in Philly and crying to Moby. It’s happy, it’s sad, it’s melancholy, it’s real.

“I fly so high,Then fall so low”

5. It’s Only (feat. Zyra) – Odesza

I am long boarding on Ellsworth near Oakland. I am singing this song so loud. I’m singing this song to Trish, to Kelly. I’m singing this song loud and proud and I feel good, I feel sad.

I’m again on my longboard, it’s 2am and I’m back at it again, I’m in Oakland singing and carving.

6. Not In Love (feat. Robert Smith) – Crystal Castles

Half Elegant gave me this song. She listened to it after we broke up the first time after “dating” for a few days. We listened to it under 40th st Bridge and Half Elegant banged her head all around. She jammed to it when she was drunk and I came over. We were in the hallway of her house where there is a built in shelf that holds records and the music player. The lights were mostly out and she danced like a maniac. This is our song.

7. Sorry – Beyoncé

There are countless memories around singing this song. The one that is most recently and strong in my memory is with Half Elegant. It was the day we hung out with Jesse and tried to go to the pool. She was an ass. We were driving her home to drop her off and this song. I felt this song. I felt pissed at Half Elegant. As I drove my arms were out stretched leaning on the steering wheel with my middle fingers up.

“Middle fingers up, put them hands high, Wave it in his face, tell him, boy, bye”

8. No Role Modelz – J. Cole

“Don’t save her, she don’t wanna be saved.”

This is the lyric I heard when I felt Half Elegant trying to save me. This is why I started listening to this song. That isn’t exactly what Half Elegant was trying to say, but I’m still singing I don’t wanna be saved.

9. For Free (feat. Drake) -DJ Khaled

The beat caught me on this song, while driving around Fight for Fifteen workers to go to their conference. The song also constantly reminds me of Half Elegant. I must admit sex with her was the best sex I’ve ever had by a long shot. So good I thought I should pay her, especially cause she had no income for a while.

10. Panda – Desiigner

The beats of this song are great, the fact that he keeps saying Panda is hilarious. I first listened to this song because a Pittsburgh activist and USASer posted this on a Penn State USASer’s wall with the description, “I broke my bed while listening to this song.” That’s what I think of every time.

11. FUCKMYLIFE666 – Against Me!

I was getting gas on the Northside and I looked hot. Grey tank top, maroon tube skirt, brown knee high boots with grey leg warmers sticking out. This guy walked about 20 feet from me looked over at me and turned around. It puzzled me, but it made sense when he and his friends walked by and yelled, “that’s a dude.” I was mortified and eventually just put on my middle finger and stewed over it. The person next to me muttered, “She doesn’t have a choice.” which felt nice to hear.

I got in the car pissed and I put on Against Me! and started screaming along to them. As I was about to turn them off and then this song came on from their live album. The beginning of the song just caught me and I couldn’t stop listening.

The song also reminded me of an important fact, I had been trying my damnedest to “pass” as a woman for about 2 years. I’ve been slowly realizing I am a woman. But Against Me! reminds that I am a gender warrior. I am a woman and a man. I am here to fuck with your concept of gender. I am a trans-tomboy. As the shirt that Laura Jane Grace wears states, “Gender is over (if you want it)”

12. The Writings On The Wall – OK Go

Half Elegant gave me this song. I feel this song, this song often feels like our relationship.

“It seems like forever since we’ve had a good day, the writings on the wall
But I just wanna get you high tonight, I just wanna see some see some pleasure in your eyes”

I would listen to it most when I was sad. Because OK Go was staying to me, that it’s horrible, yes it is, but “I just wanna get you high tonight.”

My most recent memory and the one besides watching drunk Half Elegant dancing to this song is as follows. Half Elegant biked off in an agitated hurry to go no where and I stopped. I couldn’t handle the frustration she was expressing towards me so I stopped biking. Instead I listened to this song. I felt sad I was having a hard day and I just wanted to get high tonight, to feel some pleasure. Half Elegant came back and said in a accusatory tone, “Why are you listening to that song? Are you trying to say something? You know that’s a break up song.” The next day we broke up for the second time.

13. I Hate Hate – Reagan Youth

This song is amazing to sing along to. I song along to this endlessly along the bike path. I remember biking up past Millvale on the bike path, I remember biking down to the northside on the bike path, all the while I would sing this song for the haters. Because I hate HAAAAATE!

“I as in M, E, Fucking Me, Hate as in H, A, T, E, Hate… HAAAAAATE!

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

Someone I’ve been going on dates with has really changed my perspective on darkness. Her name is Beanie and she’s a very socially awkward person who love the outdoors and is super cool, really easy to talk to and makes me feel super safe. We talked about making art prior to our first date and she very much appreciated my artistic style of repetitively writing words hundreds of times. On our date she told me that since we talked she had made a piece that expressed her understanding of what was at the root of everything for her, rejection. Instead of choosing to make art to a dark theme such as rejection she decided to make something about the opposite, embrace. This is the opposite of what I do, my art is filled with darkness, dark themes and horrible energy.

I brought this up on our second outing and I talked about how enthralled by darkness I feel like I am. She said she understood and that she often used to think about more dark thoughts but worked to retrain her brain to use more positive thoughts processes. This was the first time I really acknowledged how infatuated with darkness I am. It’s all around me. As I write this I’m sitting in my room surrounded by dark art I’ve made, art about suicide, cutting and self-hatred, and as I write this I’m listening to Hurt by Nine Inch Nails. I’m crying so hard from the pain I’m putting myself through, through the darkness I’m peering into I can’t even read why I’m typing, I hurt, I am staring into the abyss and it is staring back.

I have been seeing this meme a lot and had to use it when I saw this version of it.

I have been seeing this meme a lot and had to use it.

Why is this happening right now? Why am I doing this to myself. I’m happy I had a good day today, I feel good about today. I spent the whole day working on the garden I even got to hang out with Jamie all day. I feel like it was a rewarding, fulfilling day, but it didn’t take much for that to change. I watched a darker episode of Rick and Morty, the last episode of Season 2. It finishes with a sad scene and the song Hurt by NIN. Now I can’t stop listening to it. Now tears are covering my face.

Why do I do this to myself? Why is it that every once and a while I need to cry like this? Why do I need to torture myself like this? I stare into the darkness and tell myself I deserve this, I need this. I look at my suicidal thoughts, at my self-harm thoughts, or just think about being molested and how it leaves me feeling unsafe and out of control and I just wallow in this hurt. For some reason I need that “old familiar sting,” for some reason I think I need to balance the joy with pain.

As I look at how I feel, how I treat myself I suddenly feel myself calming down and slowing my tears. It doesn’t last though, in the next breathe I think of cutting myself, I think of administering raw pain just to keep my sorrow going. I don’t deserve this period of pain, but part of me disagrees, part of me thinks I’ve been too happy this week, part of me has to bring me down. Why? Why is it that when Beanie talked about not wanting to follow negative thoughts did I found that idea ridiculous? I told myself that is where good art comes from, that is what gives you perspective, that is where so many realizations happen, I’m a nihilist, that’s where I live in darkness and sorrow, but why?

I know why. I know a bunch of reasons why, I wish I didn’t. I do it because I need to torture myself, because sometimes I don’t deserve to feel good. I know this is true, because it hurts unbelievably to write this, to say this out loud. I love darkness because self-imposed darkness is safe. It guards me from all the other darkness that has been committed on me. My darkness is more powerful then theirs and therefore I don’t think about the way they hurt me, I think about the way I hurt me. I torture myself to have power, to have ownership over myself. I torture myself because I’m afraid of others hurting me.

This explains so many habits, why when I fall down I go deep, very deep into a black hole of darkness. I have these shrines, these trophies around my room to this darkness, to this powerful, this unbelievably powerful entity, darkness and self-hatred. Because no one can hate you more than you hate yourself. Or as Chuck Palahniuk puts it in Invisible Monsters, “When we don’t know who to hate, we hate ourselves.”

It’s All About Control

I’m sitting at my desk at work shaking because I feel out of control. My legs are tapping so fast that I my upper bodys shaking. I just listened to a This American Life podcast about pedophiles. This wasn’t my intention, the podcast is called Tarred and Feathered and the first half was not about pedophiles. When the pedophile part came on and I thought I could make it through and didn’t pause it. I wanted to face it I wanted to be okay with hearing about it. And I am in comparison to months ago when much less triggered me to hide in the basement (pictured below). I got through almost the whole podcast before taking a break to cry in the bathroom, I’m still here, I’m still working (sorta), I’m relatively all right.

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It’s hard to look at something so triggering to me, something that is actively haunting me today. I hurt there, I still haven’t accepted how being molested has affected me. I’m realizing how much it makes me struggle with control and feeling powerless, I’m realizing how being molested stole from me my ability to feel like I control myself.

That’s why two weeks ago I cut myself. It’s the first time I really did it after a decade of thinking about it. Over the past couple of months I had run dull objects over my inner to help me concentrate, specifically when making art, I tried a experimental cut with a sharp blade and didn’t like it. So when I needed to feel in control I knew what I was going to try, cutting myself. After calming my paranoid controlling self down I needed to find a security blanket to protect me, I needed to cut myself before seeing my friends.

I grabbed my nail cutters and ran the nail cleaner over my inner forearm numerous times until it started to bleed a little bit. Why? Because I had marked myself like a cattle with a piece of ownership, I cut myself because I was my own property not anyone else’s.

Immediately I feel overwhelmed with shame and guilt about doing this. I don’t want anyone to see this, I don’t want people know what has driven me to this point. I don’t want people to be concerned about me. That is of course what cutting yourself accomplishes most, garnering attention. I showed Spaced, and Jamie found out, we talked about it and now I don’t feel as uncomfortable about it. Instead I feel defiant pride, the kind of pride that says, “Yes I cut myself, do you have a problem?” The kind of pride where I explain the cut as a reflection of the my inner chaos finally being reflected upon my flesh.

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But that’s not why I did it. That’s not why I don’t know if I will stop cutting. I don’t want people to worry about my cutting, I can’t go too deep (because the object is too dull) and cutting is just a symptom. I want people to be worried about the problem, I want people to know why I cut. When saying this to my therapist she pressed me on what problem I wanted them to know. I hesitated and realized that I cut for control. Not just control over my body and situations but that is my problem, control. I need people to know how much being molested fucked with me and disabled me from having control over my life.

I don’t have control in my life, I often just go with the flow and have difficulty expressing my opinions. The worst comes in sexual relationships. I can’t say no. I can’t even figure out if I want to say no. It’s a scary feeling. In these relationships I often just trust the other person on how far or how fast they want to go and mirror their actions. Especially with new people I’m unable to discern what level of intimacy I want. Of course afterwards I know if I went to fast and I end up feeling awful and have numerous times.

It’s scary to watch it being played out with a friend, Spaced. We make sexual jokes back and fourth but at a certain point I can’t discern if she is joking or not. And I’m scared that something will happen and I feel like I won’t be able to stop it. It’s like suddenly the ground is gone from below me and I’m are floating down river with nothing to hold onto, only my trust in the other person. I trust her and don’t think anything is going to happen but still felt the need to make sure she asked for consent before doing anything, explaining that I can’t just say no or stop. And since telling her this she has said she’s going to stop the jokes until “I feel like I have more control.”

[Edit]

While this isn’t technically and edit since It is coming out in the original post I find it important to separate this from the post because this conversation came after the post was nearly finished.

I talked to Chem (who until yesterday had been distant while she dealt with some of her own boy issues) and told her about my cuts and she really pressed me to come up with a game plan when I feel the desire again. I struggled to come up with effective strategies and then finally said what I’d been wanting to ask from people for a while, to expect a call when I feel this way. The only problem was I didn’t feel right putting that burden on another person and felt I should deal with it myself.

Chem gave me a good insight into another couple thing I have going on. She talked about community as a fabric and as with any fabric when someone isolates they affect those around them, which turned my action that I thought of as not burdening people to something that very much affects people. She also helped me better grasp something that Charlie’s teacher in the Perks of Being a Wallflower says, “We accept the love we think we deserve.” I understood the part that says we accept the love we think we deserve, but I also have come to realize we only accept the love we think we deserve. I accept bad love from people and I don’t accept good love from people. I’m a great supportive friend and will do anything for a close friend and need to remember to expect and accept more from people.

Suicide is it Just a Coping Mechanism?

Suicidal thoughts, I’ve been plagued by them for years. I first felt them in 2008, my sophomore year of college, since then they have become a regular part of my life. The idea of not having suicidal thoughts is unfathomable, I mean what thoughts do you have when you’re really stressed? But after staring them down via art I’ve realized how hollow they are, how they are just decoys to distract me from the real fears I have. This had left me feeling relieved and light but with the knowledge that now I have the real boss ahead to fight.

The piece that helped me explore suicide is called, “Suicide Note.” It’s text in the shape of a building, on the right side it says, “Jump to freedom.” and the left side has a story about the time I got closest to actually jumping off. Finishing the piece was very difficult, I got half way through my first attempt with the help of whiskey and then didn’t touch it for a month before starting over. During the second attempt I took my time, I carefully drew the outline, I slowly wrote the text, taking breaks to distract myself from the theme I was staring at. The story I wrote is an embellished version of a flashback I wrote in my journal in 2012 to a time I realized I actually wanted to jump off a parking garage. Prior to that I would simply go to the top of parking garages and look down and everything would become real, this time the idea of jumping is what became the most real.

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If you click on the picture and then on the next page click again it again you should be able to actually read the story.

The story at first argues that my suicidal thoughts were just a coping mechanism, but then it ends with the time I scared myself by actually wanting to jump. I showed it to Spaced and she liked it a lot, though she disagreed with my conclusion. She pointed out that my fear of jumping made it clear that I didn’t want to do it, that from her vantage point this was also coping. I had just needed a even more real coping mechanism than simply staring over the edge and having my fear of heights kick in. I needed to actually hold my life in my hands because when you are feeling completely powerless what act is more powerful than saying to yourself, “I have control over something, I can take my life.” I wasn’t ready to delve into these thoughts at the time, I was crying out the reality that I just stared suicide in the face and I think I won.

Since then I have started having self-harm thoughts, when I get overwhelmed my mind goes to cutting myself and how scary that is. It was really not good after I watched the Perks of Being a Wallflower. I loved the book in freshman year of college and read it at least 6 times. I related a lot to Charlie and being a wallflower, but I forgot the major theme of the book he is realizing he was molested as a kid. This was very triggering and I spent the whole movie crying and then immersed myself in the movie culture afterwards: driving through the tunnel he drove through (it’s filmed in Pittsburgh), rereading the book, listening to the music from the movie on repeat (namely Asleep by the Smiths), and thinking about cutting myself. I talked to Spaced that night and she said I give this stuff too much power, suicide, cutting, n’at.

She’s right, I do. I do it because my mind finds those things and freaks out about me possibly cutting myself or jumping off a building instead of what I’m really worried about, essentially it’s misplaced fear. So I looked straight at thoughts of cutting myself and realized how hollow they are, suicidal thoughts held weight, I’ve had those for years and needed to work through them but cutting myself was completely hollow, it was a substitute for suicide but without the personal connection. Then I looked and it was glaringly obvious what I was afraid of. I sighed and admitted that I still haven’t accepted that I was molested by Diane, it fucks with me too much, it wrecks my history and takes away too much from me. I know it happened I know it’s true I believe it, but I haven’t accepted what that means.

That’s my current journey, no more distractions, no more getting caught up in worrying about killing myself or cutting myself. I’m not actually scared of doing either and I have a support network that is fucking amazing, both in Pittsburgh and beyond to support me in actually dealing with my shit. Knowing and embracing the fact that I was molested, possibly for several years, that’s scary, but it’s something I can handle. Remembering that I just got past suicidal thoughts that have haunted me for years, that’s a good feeling. That’s just the momentum I need to take on my next challenge.

So happy to have grown so far and to be strong and ready to grow more. I must pause and be humbled by my support network and by my progress. Looking back I am reminded that 2015 was the best year I’ve lived, and 2016 is looking like it’s going to be so liberating.

Art Not Words

For a few weeks I couldn’t write enough blog posts, post after post was being written waiting for the time it would be published. Then I started art and became entranced with it and uninspired to write. That’s why this post will be about some of my art projects.

The first one to follow up my lavender black hole came when I didn’t have my drawing pad, all I had was 3 hole punched paper. I had been feeling a compulsion for days and I was suddenly overtaken. The song that inspired me was The Neighbors by St. Vincent. I was first taken by the lyrics, “How can Monday be alright, Then on Tuesday lose my mind?” But so many of the other lyrics are so great to. Such as “What would your mother think, What would your father do, What would the neighbors think? If they only knew”

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After having this one up for a week one of my roommates kept asking me if it was Tuesday, and if I was going crazy. These comments frustrated me because the point of my art started to be to take it seriously and take my thoughts seriously not as think of myself as crazy. When she was in my room I ripped off every one accept a few and changed it to “Then on Tuesday they knew” and one that says “Because I told them.” This is largely in reference to something I told many of my good friends after first having the thought. I was feeling really spaced out and had a very strong desire to cut my wrists (knowing it would ground me in the moment). I talked to a friend who just moved to germany first, then I proceeded to let many friends know about this feeling. I felt safe telling people and safer having people know. I also was made to feel less crazy and since now my friends knew they could better support me. I am again humbled by my friends and credit my support network for helping me validate how I feel and remind me that my thoughts and experiences are by no means crazy but actually quite normal.

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The first piece of art on my door quite honestly made me feel like a crazy person. It wasn’t as refined looking and it was also conveying a message that I was “loosing my mind.” So I began struggling with what I just talked about above, not feeling crazy. This struggle most clearly comes out in my next piece from the “This is Art” series called “207/213 +7.” Prior to this piece my coworker explained to me a Venn Diagram of the line between crazy and artist, she specifically mentions Thomas Kincaid I balanced him out with Syd Barrett.

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To make myself feel less crazy and more artistic I bought some sketch paper and started the first of my “This is Art” series. This series is paper that has “This is art.” written on them anywhere from 207 to 365 times. My first one was done at my friend Spaced’s house. She was doing work and I had figured this might happen so I brought over paper. Previous to the art I had run out of nutrients and shut down. She fed me and then got to her work. I put on St. Vincent and got to my work. I switched it up listening to her first album, Marry Me, instead of my recent staple, Actor.

The combination of regaining mental control post-very-hungry and this album these thrust me into a somewhat disassociated state that I’ve done much of my art in. I was no longer present in the room but in the art. I argued with myself constantly through this piece drawing a “fine line” that was quite thick and specify where the “art” was in this piece. I also constantly argued with myself whether this was art or not. I have had great conflict with my art not sure if I believed I was crazy or I was making art. The term art didn’t feel like it fit my work but the arguing with myself continually throughout this piece helped lay the ground work to let me consider my work art, period.

After getting half way through the page and struggling the entire time I got frustrated and laid down. I ended up falling asleep and woke up quite disoriented, and promptly went back to sleep (in a bed this time, not the floor).

To finish this piece off I laid it on the ground in my floor not quite frustrated enough to crumble it up. One of our cats laid on it helping me vicariously take out the frustration I still have with this first piece. (Hint if you click on the image and then on the new page right click and click “View Image” the image will become larger)

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My next bunch of This is Art was simply writing “This is art.” You can see them below.

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My next piece of art came to me on a whim and I think I’m going to remake it with one tweak (glitter). Either-way this was a canvas that I originally was just painting a lavender base over since it is a used canvas. Once I painted the lavender base and it dried I decided to paint a black stripe over it, a repeat of the “fine line” between crazy and artist. I then hung up the piece over my lavender black hole and proceeded to take pictures of it drying. My black paint has a puncture in the container so it’s very runny and I photographed it 7 times as it dried. adding for a cool effect.

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And finally some three dimensional pieces that I have been working on regarding dreams. This are long in the making with the idea first coming into my head November 2009. This is the iconic Dream Crusher. The first picture is one made in 2009 and the following pictures are recent schematics for making a my three-dimensional Dream Crusher which you can see the start of one. This Dream Crushers will both be operated manually and not by motor. The plans show schematics for the small one that is part way done and also a larger one that would have a full plexiglas side. This is for demonstration purposes only. Ideally any fully functional one would have no or limited plexiglas as this is obviously a weak spot in the design.

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