peace and love and home

pulling away from my friend Josh's apartment in Toronto... I felt such peace. It was nice to remember what it felt like to laugh with him. He's a really great person and I miss having him around.

mainly peace as peace as life will be.

It's easy to get trapped in a dark winter world that is Ottawa. to see nothing but the people and work in front of you.

you can forget who you are a little bit.

you can forget that you're beautiful.

you can forget that you love the world.

you can forget the joy of your family. and the picture of sleeping in papa's pond on the pink couch.

20 kisses on my face would be better

I can't believe that when I was in school, someone made me do a presentation on Balinese Cockfights. Do you know how many times I had to say cock?

right now I've got sad hearts

I'm going to have a hot bath, read great house (which isn't called good house, btdubs). and maybe I'll pull out some Christmas business. I had a great impromptu date with the husbo. took him to the imperial for dins. add lime aioli on blackened cod. snuck out and got him special dessert. that was nice.

Some how I think a bath can fix everything.

MOMA

I thought we had made a major mistake going on the free night. It's not how I like a gallery. I want quiet. I want to get close enough to see textures. I want to allow myself to be captured by whatever the fuck captures me.

I didn't want the crowds of tourists and art students impeding my pleasures. my emotions. my thoughts. my experience.

Greedy little lady.

It's funny that I was surprised by the jam packed escalators. A jam packed attraction in New York?

I didn't research the gallery. I don't like book blurbs, I don't like movie trailers. It's not that I like surprises. I just like the opportunity to figure shit out on my own.

Anyway,

It blew my mind.

I had trouble holding back tears when I saw Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon. I had appreciated him in an art history context, and I loved his striped sweaters, but he's never been one of my favourites. Walking into a room full of his work stunned me. I saw how Andree and Marie could love him. Chris caught me and said it was okay for me to cry, but I sucked it back because I felt foolish.

and it didn't stop there. moved and moved again I was. Matisse's bold colours. Klimt always. and Monet's massive water lilies. They made my lips tingle. I never knew!!

and then Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo. I saw on the ground floor that Kahlo's art was there....and to be honest...on the 6th floor, my excitement may have rushed me through a little. Like a child trying to unwrap a Christmas present slowly so they wont seem rude. I saw Diego Rivera's work first....thick and bold.

and I saw her!

Frida Kahlo. I think I love her because her work is so emotional. disturbing. beautiful. mexican. woman. all things I love. and being so close to her work was unbelievable. I was...in disbelief.

Here's a picture I feel silly about. I feel silly writing all of this, really.

It's called Fulang-Chang and I. Fulang-Chang is the monkey.

She gave the painting to her friend and made the mirror so that they could be together. Of course I had to take the opportunity to be with her too. It looks like I ended up being with Frida and Diego at the same time. which is kind of creepy! Makes me feel like the monkey.

so the second painting is done-ish

I'm not completely happy about the end, but I needed it to be over because I don't know if I'd ever like it. It's up on the wall now, so I can look at it differently, and maybe tomorrow do the finishing strokes, and finish finished with that one I'll be!

Corked was a pretty good book. An autobiography. I took to the tale of Kathryn Borel Jr. and her pops very quickly. At times I thought she was too cool to be my friend. Sometimes I thought she was exactly the kind of friend I need. and then... I thought she might not really be that cool. haha. So, I guess... this means... she's probably cool. like ice cold? no.

oh gees. I'm tired and my mind is in places too horrible to discuss. one of those horrible and nice things. but one of those horrible and nice things that I shouldn't verbalize. shouldn't even allow to be a thought.

that's a tangent and thoughts like those lead to things that are. full stop. stopping now and getting back to the book.

Corked. Kathryn tours vineyards in France with her father and works some shit out. It's actually been awhile since I finished it, but there are things I still keep with me. I still order champagne before apps when I'm happy and having a fancy dinner with my husband. I still want a little book in my purse to record my thoughts on wine. even if they are lame and tragic. and I definitely still have hearts for some of the things Kathryn's had to go through in life.

This also made me think about my relationship with my dad. I think I've always tried to impress him, and I'm pretty sure he's getting tired of it. Sometimes I come off as a snob. Maybe I'll write more about this later.

Now I'll sleep and post this unedited and cheap shit. Love you!

2:Corked-Kathryn Borel Jr.

cute

thing

sometimes there are these

moments in life that are just like, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

just like, irreparable damage.

just like, hammers cracking fossil hearts.

forgot all she used to know

bang head off keys.

how frustrated am i. i'm stuck because i can't express myself properly. the same way i can't paint what i want to paint. i can't make the noise i want.

i feel like biting a thick raw steak and shaking it hard. and dropping it. because something like that between my teeth would probably feel good.

just. a mother. fucking. frustrating fuck.ity. shit.

tight chests. sore arms. heart hurts. bath and candle time.

AND MAGAZINE DAY! that's great. I got a vogue in the mail. little thing I can hold on to.

I probably need to work harder. I need to research the sound I want more. I need to paint more, obviously. I.

I want something different.

bath, candle, magazine, scotchy scotch time.

ever find facebook

to be like...the saddener? like you're aight...pretty cool...gonna do some random stalking and then you're like...what?! what's that status. ba BAM!

Rock Camp

This weekend I took part in Rock Camp for girls as a random helper/bass instructor. It was amazing.

I'm currently exhausted, and Chris wants to watch some tv's, so I better go... but I just thought I should probably document this-I'm so happy right now.

"Finish every day and be done with it.....

You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt have crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense. This day is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on yesterdays."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

it's a strange thing

seeing someone run for the bus and miss it. to see them continue running after it's too late. faces so sad and legs that take too long to halt.

I had a great release last night. I've been a fucking weirdo lately. needing a change. taking it out on people. and always myself.

I think about what to paint and don't paint it.

I sometimes think about writing and don't write.

I always think about want.

some how appreciate the fall.

Last night I came home and wrote a post drunk. and then deleted it in the morning because of all the curse words. I might re-release an edited version.

re-release last night

tried to drink to forget.

I tried different beers last night.

but stayed sober enough to remember.

I made sure not to drink too much because it was a work night.

holy shit. sometimes I fucking hate myself. am amazing and gorgeous, mostly god-like. My name is derived from divinity. but on occasion, I'm not entirely proud of everything I do.

went to see some bands tonight.

mouth-they were fun. liked the female bassist. got worried when i saw she was hot, but then enjoyed the way she played. mostly distracted by the singers preference for that cunt that killed those women. weird. the banter was humourous at times, but a little repetitive.

mannequin-have seen them twice. enjoyed them twice. made me feel like I'm in twin peaks. and my best friend is dead... but it's okay...because it's so beautiful. we're so beautiful.

jeff and brotherhood-holy fucking shit. that was fun to see.

something like....

in Bored to Death. being in a great deal of mental pain. just for a few moments until I forget. but like a fish forgets in seconds, I might be forced to remember and suffer again.

hey fuckshit, how's your face?

so, what have I accomplished this week. Je ne don't really know. Certainly didn't learn how to speak french.

Some times are spent working on that painting. It shouldn't shock me that a lot of things that come from my brush turn out the same. Peacockly, but not necessarily peacock colours....Peacockly, I have an affinity to one colour palate. Did we discuss this? Kind of the same way Don Draper's mistresses are always brunette?

Sometimes things are much more difficult than you think they'd be. and sometimes shit is AMAZINGLY better than what you could have imagined. if you had bothered to imagine it.

In regards to painting. It's related to a small town boy, born and raised in south detroit. Where were we going with this? It's like, the journey. so lame devin. so le lame.

the plan for today

-read

-paint

-watch trueblood

-start the detox diet

-go to trivia

What a lovely time to start a detox diet. Biggest aspects of the diet-eat fresh food, no alcohol, no fruit, no coffee.

did you ever catch yourself tumbling and tumbling. then wonder how long you've been doing it for. and then slip on Kent St in orange flip flops and a Tuesday morning mist. you catch yourself. and you're done tumbling. you're still 26, but you've changed a little. hoping it's for the best.

I love The Sonics because everything's to scream and moan about.

1: The Unbearable Lightness of Being-Milan Kundera

like kool-aid knock offs

It occurs to me that, not only am I out of practice when it comes to painting, but, also, I was never really good at it anyway.

smirks.

It's alright. It's a little frustrating not being able to make the images I want, but I can get a little bit closer next time.

I enjoy the colours that come from cleaning brushes.

I wish that place existed somewhere in time and space where no one would get hurt.

og og augusto.

I'm listening to Maximo Park... and enjoying the lyric, "I testify to having guilty feelings, I must confess, I'd like to be caught stealing".

Do I have so much guilt because I do bad things? because I'm not very good at accepting the more... animally, self-centered, kind of basic evil but evil in a real and sometimes good way? evil in a sometimes bad bad way. maybe Catholic guilt is actually a genetic thing.

I also liked it when Kundera wrote, "Tomas did not realize at the time that metaphors are dangerous. Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love".

Sometimes I think I've lost my favourite bookmark from Mexico (the black one with the green mask of Pacal on it), but really....it's just hidden a few pages away.

I love love and I hate love. but that is love. and well. fuck it, I'm not so scared of being trite. It doesn't really matter if I'm trite or not.

I'm about to put on a polka dot dress and a little bit of make up and armani mania. I'm going to go smoke a romeo y julieta and drink some forty creek. I'm in the mood for that scotch Colin brought from Scotland...but it seems wrong to put it in my $2 flask.

I hope my husband likes the dress.

Lemme go walk off the guilt.

this is something I did

there's nothing good about where you live

good morning, challenge.

I'm so grumpy all the time and I want to watch a movie. I want to watch a movie and order a pizza, and cover it in hot sauce. a movie that is stupid and funny and dreamy.

Or maybe I'll have a bath. I'll read The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. I'll use my African Spa Salt Scrub from the Body Shop, light a voluspa candle and put lots of lime and ice in a glass of water. I read in....maybe cosmo, that if you fancied up your water it would make you feel like you were at a spa.

These are my days off from work when Chris isn't here.

It doesn't sound like such a bad time, does it? but it's not very satisfying.

Maybe I should go shopping or out for coffee. I should do the laundry. clean these mounds of dusty fur balls off the floor.

Most likely I'll go for a little walk to the record store. Do a little cleaning. Watch a movie. Prepare something new and exciting for dinner. I will wear my garden apron and show how wifey I am.

I don't know if I love this Kundera yet. It's mainly depressing me. For which reasons?

To make life a little bit more interesting, I've decided to give myself a little...challenge? a little something to add to the story line. I plan on making a painting for every book I read.

and I'm starting with The Unbearable Lightness of Being.