Skip to content | Skip to navigation
I got rid of my on line store, and in the words of Forest Gump "one less thing to worry about."
The rest of the day will be spent in one of the following ways: on the road putting in applications, knowing that most of them if not all of them will end up being a waste of time, in the bathroom, doing all the various things associated with that room, eating, and wishing some rich crazy person would come up to me and offer to become a patron for my art.
So much for monday...at this point the rest of the week looks to be about the same.
Everytime I get a job it closes quickly. It's been a source of frustration.
Every door seems to be so shut tight that the fear of ending up living on the streets again has been a constant.
Through all of this there has been one constant thing that is the best thing, and that's doing art.
I love it. I've been doing art all my life. For the last 5 years I've been studing watercolor and from all the people who have seen it who have been intimidated by the medium they tell me that I'm doing things with it that are unique.
I had one person tell me that watercolor shouldn't look like that.
When I paint everything else goes away, all the crazy thoughts, the wild over flow that sends me to writing in several journals stop. Everything becomes this wonderful flow that I can and do loose hours in.
The only problem is with all of this is that even though everyone who has seen my work and even with thoes who have bought peices and paid me more than I was asking because they said I wasn't asking enough, the income from it is so far and few between that I've had to take other jobs just to keep from homeless. Not that that's a bad thing. Artists before me have done it and ones who are up and comming will do the same thing.
The trouble is that I don't want to do anything but art.
I don't want to have to deal with doing the monkey dance anymore. It's a pathetic ritual that makes me crazy and makes me want to strangle something, anything close at hand. And the other thing that keeps happening is every door that I keep trying to walk through so that I have a roof over my head keeps shutting with in a few weeks. It's been making me nuts.
Sometimes I feel like I should just stop and if I die outside doing art, then so be it.
But if I did that then there are people out there who would kill me a second time just because I did the stupid thing.
But their not living in these shoes!
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that art is the thing that flows through my veins. I guess part of the art life is being tortured in someway. There is no escape if the art in you is what you do to survive. Survival here has nothing to do with money. It's the blood that flows through me, and what makes me sane. I can't help that the doors keep shutting and that no windows are open. But to not do art is a sin against my soul, and I can't not create. That will kill me faster than living out on the streets or eating out of dumpsters.
Funny thing about all of this is that I really don't care if my work sells or not...that doesn't matter. It's nice when it does and it always shocks the crap out of me because it's just something I do. But the point is that I have to do, I don't have a choice. I think I had a choice a long time ago. At one point in my life I was willing to completely walk away from it for my faith, but it got handed back to me, and my destiny was sealed. I was created to create art. I'm done arguing.
No matter what happens now, art is the road I'm on even if it means I die doing it.
It's about 6:40 a.m. and I just woke up. My head is full of bits of the dreams I had last night.
They were crazy dreams about giant penises turning blue and nuns running around in business suits and all kinds of other things that are quickly fading away. I think that's a good thing I can't remember most of what I dreampt about last night.
What I do remember was that it was all pretty disturbing. In fact the last three nights I've had dreams that have been pretty disturbing, and after weeks and weeks with no dreams, to all of a sudden have three nights of dreams that are in color, I think has some kind of major significance.
The other two, I do remember.
The first one started out with my husband telling me he wanted to see more of the country. Which in it's self is strange, since he is very settled here and when we go some place new he gets sick with flu-like symptoms.
So anyway we are going west and we end up in Oregon and we're on our way to Crater lake and there is major construction going on. They are building a 5 lane super-highway through virgin forest, it's all dirt, even the on ramps and people are driving on them, going 60 and 75 miles and hour on these unfinished roads and we end up driving on them too, and we are in the mountians and we get to the edge of what apears to be a cliff and the road just stops and I get out of the car and go to the edge and the rogue river is filled to the top with crushed coal and there are buffalo running down the filled up river bed.
All of a sudden we're at crater lake and it's gone too, and there are buffalo walking around on the filled up lake surface. Then I woke up.
The next night in my dream, my husband are driving again, and we're in the mountians again, and we come to a large city, something about the size of Boise Idaho, and we're talking and all of a sudden someone comes up along side the car and starts shooting at my husband. They shoot him about nine times. There is nothing I can do to help him. I manage to get him to a hospital and they can remove all but 2 of the bullets and he's dying. Then I have two more dreams right after that are in different settings but in all of them he gets shot.
Then there was last night. And thankfully all I can remember about what I dreamed about was these giant penises that started out normal. They weren't attached to any bodies, they were just there, and all of the sudden I could see the veins in them and they just got more and more defined and then the penises started turning blue and getting bigger and bigger, like they were going to blow up or somthing, and the other part I remember was all these nuns running around in three peice suits and carring brief cases and the reason I know they were nuns is because they were wearing the veils that nuns wear.
I woke up and it was still dark down here, our room is in the basement of a farm house, and had this overwhelming need to write.
Everything for the last month has been very uncertian. There is no direction and neither of us can find work. We've gotten some help from family, but that will only carry us through the next month and then we are homeless again.
I've been in a state of on and off wanting to commit sucide, and I know that alot of people at one time or another have thought about the idea for one reason or another. But this has been really different. It's been terrifying. There is such a blackness that comes with the desire to die that it's a fight to not do it.
When it's not there, my head is on over load, trying to figure things out, and when that's not happening, we're putting in applications all over the place trying to find work. And there is nothing opening up.
I've been trying to stay busy so I can get so exausted that I can sleep peacefully at night, and up until three nights ago that seemed to work.
Now it feels like the unrest has invaded my sleep and the dreams are disturbing. I don't know what to make of the dreams, except that in them it what is going on isn't good and there is no happy ending. And that scares me. It's like everything in life is a hopeless state of existance and it's so much that now I'm dreaming about it.
I wish there was someone out there who could see things from a clearer perspective than I can and sit down with me and help me untangle this mess, because that's what my life feels like right now is one big mess that just keeps getting worse and worse.
Up to this point my journal enteries have been a series of rambling thoughts, how things work at the moment they show up in my head and a view of something. And I suppose that's fine. It serves a purpose.
Escaping the madness of how reality can be sometimes...an inlaw you would love to duct tape to a chair...and so on.
Baisicly therapy without the cost involved.
The frustrations of the last few weeks have been mounting and I'm loosing my grip. I see so much mindless apathy out there every time I go into the city. No one gives a shit. People loose their jobs, people move to new cities hoping that things will be different, but it's the same all over.
I talked to a man who runs a small resturant the other day and he said something that gave substance to what I've been seeing and feeling, no one gives a shit. Very little has value any more, money is all and everything, including people are just another commodity.
It's frustrating. That's the best word that I can find for how I feel right now. Actually there arn't adaquate words for how I feel, just words that are reconizable. Sometimes there are no words for the deep sad sighs that your soul feels I guess.
I hate the fact that so many companies are outsourcing jobs over seas when people here are starving.
I hate the media for all the crap that's presented as news, when in fact it's just another form of entertainment.
I quit watching the news several years ago when I decited to see how many stories of death, distruction and basicly bad shit there were.
Any thing good or hopefull or light hearted was a blurb at the end of a half hour of sports and really bad crap and the weather.
So I quit watching. I kept reading things like National Geographic because it has keep it's sense of what it was ment to do, even though now the first 20 or so pages are nothing but advertising.
I was looking through several magazines today looking for watch faces for my latest art project and what caught my eye was this repeating theme through the pages: Be thin, be sexy, be perfect and own this, NOW!!!!!!!! we want your money, if you do this the right way your lover will never be unfaithful, try this and she will melt in your arms.
I found my self feeling like anything human was being ripped away...and the really hard part about it all was for the realization that the next generation comming up to voting age
this is a normal way of life.
We are a lost people, I think, who don't know anymore who we are, and any belief's we had went somewhere, even though there are strong holds of individuals who hang on to themselves, this society either sees them as freaks or hero's, and everything else in between is being shoved into the cookie cutter mold of uniformity.
...and that's just the tip of the frustrations that flooded my day...
The crust that has formed suddenly begins to break. The sound resembles breaking ice or a glass that has encountered too much stress.....
This is what my head is like most days. There are so many thoughts that crowd around in there that in addition to my on line journals I keep a couple going all at the same time.
...The contents, under sever pressure now begin to escape their confines and flood out as if pushed by some massive unseen force. Room in this container is at a premium...
It starts before I go to sleep and continues in my dreams and increases upon waking.
....it hits the walls of the room with such force that there are stains left half way up...
When I'm in a crowd of people it's like being locked in a room with lots and lots of speakers connected to high powered stereo equipment all turned at high volume. I can feel their emotional state, and sometimes see inside.
....the state of being overwhelmed is constant here. Pictures flash upwards from the flow which has now taken on the appearance of swirling colors much like an oil slick. Everything from the over flow is screaming for attention...
I've never known a time of no thought. I've often wondered what would happen if I were to go into a depravation tank. Hmmmmm..I wonder if my brain would explode or collapse in on it self.
I've read that we only use 10% of our total brain power. I wonder what having the other 90% active would be like.
Would I be able to fly at will? Would I be able to look at my body and become someone different?
Could I stop the maddness of war with a thought, or stop hunger all over the world?
Could I take the money I have and turn it into millions in an instant? I would love to put that up as an add somewhere for all of thoes out there like me who try and try and fail without fail to take on new ventures.
I wonder...with the way my brain works now, so on over load all the time, if the other 90% were up and running would I need to write so much? Maybe my thoughts would become literal things, up and walking around all by themselves. Talking to each other, having wild or quiet lives.
....the pressure is less now, the pain has stilled a bit, and I'm able to put my hands into the flow. I feel the warm and cold of it, all at once. Inspiration takes hold, but I can't keep up no matter how fast I work to capture the immages on paper....
I think the reason this is a constant state of my head is because I never learned how to stop it as a child, I didn't want to, it's like having constant adventures and never going anywhere. From what I've been told by people who use drugs that alter your perception that what they experience is like this. I know that's the reason I've always turned down any invations to take any of thoes drugs. I can hardly handle what I experience now, can you immagine what would happen if I took any of thoes things? I would probably try to fly, and find the reality of gravity waiting for me at the base of some tall building.
It seems that I have all this time at the moment. I've been trying to sort things out but with little sucess.
I think sometimes in life it would be awesome if someone with more experience in life type stuff would just show up with the answers to the questions....but maybe that would be like cheating on your final exams...well maybe not. We talking about life type stuff and there are no exams just a whole lot of tests.
Wouldn't it be great if you could see how you scored on life tests. You could use the results as a gauge how to change the problems that keep cropping up.
I wish it was that easy. But usually what ends up happening is that you keep having to do the same tests over and over until you stop doing the same thing expecting different results.
That, by the way is the definition of insanity.
There is no normal either, for all you students of phsycology. Normal is the setting on a dryer. And I don't know about you, but I hardly resemble a dryer. Maybe a bottle of dishwashing soap at times, but never a dryer.
I've known a few people who reminded me of washing machines.
And a few people who reminded me of a bottle of pinesol.
But I've never met anyone who I could say was normal.
That's what's so cool about humans, we're all weird and quirky and full of the most amazing stuff, and it comes out in the strangest of curcumstances.
And it's all that weird stuff that makes people do stupid human things that hurt other people and themselves.
We are capable of so much more than we think. And we often sell ourselves so short, we might as well walk around with half our clothes on. At least if we did that it might make us think a bit before undertaking some of the things we do, and it might make us a little more patient with other's who are doing stupid human stuff too.
There might be less to fight about and more to talk about.
And less differences than we think. For the most part, it's the stuff that doesn't matter that we worry about the most, and the outside, that is in the constant state of decay that we put the most value on, and miss the really important stuff, what's inside a person. That's where the really valuable stuff is, and it doesn't age or have trouble walking from age, or die or do anything our skin does....see I told you I had too much time on my hands...I get this way when this happens...I think too much and look at big pictures and end up talking to myself.
I promise not to worry until I start answering myself, ok?