yesterday was a horrifically long day, and yet i met all my goals and did everything on my "to do" list even though extra crap got shot in around all my carefully planned edges. i even managed to get to bed by ten and slept 8 solid hours. i woke up a 12:35 a.m. this morning in fact, and did the wonder-how-many-hours-of-sleep-i-have-left look at the clock, which you realize i have to first flounder around for my glasses in order to do this.
when i realized i had still 6 hours left to sleep, yes, i wet the bed, AND threw my glasses across the room and out into the forest!
on the late average these last many days, i've been getting six hours of sleep and/or less, and there has not been time to wet the bed.
this morning, i woke very refreshed, though a little humbled by the fact that Mark was going to hang our bed sheets out the window to em-bare-ass me in front of all our neighbors.
still, I HAD 8 HOURS OF SLEEP, so i really didn't give a shat!
also, i thought my collage yesterday, because i had to wait until late in the day to do it, would just say "fuck this shit" and then be all black ... so black that you wouldn't even be able to make out the words "fuck this shit" but you would know they were there, and *you* would probably wet your pants!
instead, it became yet another 8x10 collage in a very cryptic and yet not so cryptic series i'm doing. i made that sound as if i knew i'd suddenly be doing a cryptic/yet not so cryptic series of collages, but again, i never really know what i'm doing until it's done and i'm standing up to my knees in torn paper going, "yeah, i can probably scan and keep this one."
then i shoot it into the pile of how many collages in a row is that already?!?!?!?
well, today i realized that waiting till the end of the day was not really that stressful. i had been doing the collages right away in the morning when i started, but they've become more and more complex. they take me longer to finish now, and i realize i'm thinking about them all day until i get to them, which is not a bad thing. it's like this little "tease" going on in my brain that says, "live through this shitty, long stressful day and you *will* get there!"
so i'm not so sad to report that i did not get to today's piece till nearly 2pm and i've been working on it for one hour and 17 minutes already.
today's piece is part of the series, i did not know was series-ifying right before my torn paper eyes.
below are several poems i wrote, and have included in this note because they appare in this piece so to speak, and also i’ve been writing a lot, and also going back through old work, which is a good thing. ultra-word productive, in out, under and through my “real” day job.
so some words, then:
*Heart-Shaped Box*
I feel like
the proverbial
Wicked Queen
because I would take
a head off the chopping block,
or a heart, proof-positive,
in a gilded box.
Everyone should suffer,
no one should suffer,
but I suffered,
and suffer still.
Truth be told,
I'm not surprised
to find it’s my own heart,
bruised and lying,
in this Pandora's box,
the lid flung to the treetops
and knives flying about.
(the above circa 2002 or so, but never saw the printed light of day until 2007 in any such form, a hidden work, now hidden in this collage as well)
this one below has no title, and no i was not suicidal (hey that kind of rhymed), and i don't really know what i was thinking and/or going to do with this, but it really sounds a lot like ripping paper (probably i wrote it back in the day when i did not set aside time to rip things up ... hmmm)
*untitled*
I’m crying from
the inside out,
my tears
as sharp
as nails
yet I’m
wholly unable
completely unstable
and wonder at best
how to put things
back together again.
this next one circa 2007, i believe on a writing dare with someone i regularly collaborate with and he probably said something like "write something would ya" and so i did ...
*coming clean*
cold
sky spray
pelting skin
stinging insides
found without
treading lightly
walking in the dark.
moonlight
scatters thoughts
shadows melting
one with the soil
footfalls land solid
a stronghold at dawn.
sunshine
replaces the ache
heart pounds in rhythm
hands cold as stones
stretch and claw in need
reaching for the future
(it reminded me of being deep in the woods and clawing the way out and so i guess it's in this piece too)
this next one ... circa maybe even before the year 2000, i've lost track, you know, the words, the paper, the words, the paper ... but i felt it fit this piece too:
*Sentence Lifted*
You go girl.
Chin up.
Face the mirror,
your womanhood,
your worth.
Run like a girl.
Ties that bind you now
are of your own making.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who's the fairest one of all?
The wicked witch is dead.
No more poison apples.
Live out loud.
Unleash your words
on the screen.
Make them scream
for all the times
you kept quiet.
and this one ...
*Easier Said Than Done*
Continue on,
at leveled or disheveled best,
but is it over the next hill,
or do I bypass the obvious
taking to the wood --
taxed lungs and chapped cheeks,
ascending meaning everything,
backing down not an option?
Or, is it better to trip and fall the bogs,
leading to the depths of a black forest,
my hands and face torn by nettles,
teeth clenched in firm resolve
even though I’d like to spit and quit.
I’m not sure which is best, or who decides.
There are no forks in the road,
Mr. Frost, and I can’t see beyond
the end of my nose, the hurt in my heart,
the silence killing my ears,
and all my good sense is lost.
(i mean seriously, "fall the bogs," it's totally in the collage even though i wrote this when!??!?!)
so, all of this is to say, no matter how long the days are getting, and no matter that i'm filling them in on both sides and also managing all the shit around the edges, this *is* the most artistically productive i have ever been in a long time ... and so all i can say about the next day and the next is, "BRING IT ON!"
peace, and art, poetry and some hippy love ... out!
~a
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