Spitting White Gold Into The Wind

Everything’s fine, it’s just…it’s been a lot this year. A lot of really good stuff, and a lot of shit. An amazing year. Eyes on the road kinda year. lol. Rather took me for quite a ride. I think 2021 will have to do a lot with refining and defining who I “am”.

We hiked today for just a little bit. I can’t call it a hike as much as it was panting and heaving up a hill. The sky was beautiful, however, and so was the mountain. Worth it. I felt upset about being cold. And I hunger for red meat – two things not quite normal for me. I think I’m just sensitive (always) but especially right now, and have been spoiled with being indoors, no pressure to go out-of-doors – a lot more than any normal year. I’ve really liked that part.

I really am an introvert and I’m not just pretending to be so I can excuse my fear of other people (who are almost always outside my house, you see). But I AM an introvert and I am agoraphobic, yet a totally functioning agoraphobe. This is a truth, and something that makes me nervous about self-care for myself now and to build as habitual for my old years to come, you see: my grandmother, my mom’s mom, was agoraphobic. Clinically, pathologically agoraphobic. She never left the house EVER except for a special drive one of her son’s would take her on once or twice a year. Let’s put it this way: when I lived with her, I never saw her leave the house once. I cannot let myself be this way. I am not like her in any other real way, but in this way I am and it frightens me, knowing what I could allow to happen to me. But I won’t allow it. I will fucking not – of that I have no doubt.


It’s been wonderful communicating with my little nephews (not sooo little anymore). All 3 of my youngest brother’s kids are artists or in theater. Pretty cool. I got to introduce them to Amano today, and my brother said, “wow, that reminds me so much of Vampire Hunter D”, and I’m like “yeah, man, that’s cuz he IS the artist behind it!” 🙂 Fun to talk about an artist we relate to but in different ways. I remembered some art I did, probably over a decade ago now, that was inspired by him. I found it and showed them, and here it is:

India ink, micron pen and acrylic ink on grey paper.

The sun-disk behind her head is gold paint.
However long I stay, I will always love you. I will always love you. **Le drool

“Take the time to think about where you want to be now and how you can reach your goals, instead of just dreaming about them.” (6 of cups, reversed).

Dec 12 – I need to take a break from my mind and that’s going to take some time. I think I need to put the blog down, take up a book (my parents got me ‘The Goldfinch’ and I’m interested in reading for the first time in a long time; embroider; fuck around in watercolor. Come back to self in a higher, happier place. I was extraordinarily happy in November and right up to just a few days ago. And now, I am noticeably sad. Yes, sad. And so to comfort myself, I must. To allow myself to feel calm, peaceful, and connected to my life. I need to allow myself to let go and regain a sense of fresh, happy energy. Being happy, that’s a part of my cycle, too. And I can help myself into it.

I’ve got to go inside, and cozy in. Forget about the weather. And so I won’t be back here until it feels like it is sunlit again – when I am connected to that something fucking incredible that contains this whole planet, all the light and all of us, but inside of me radiating out. It’s a new thing I’m trying. But I honestly don’t know. This feels like new territory and I’m worried I’ll do a good enough job with self care.

I’ve got to go. Bye. Will return when I fucking feel like it.

Growth is painful. I guess that’s the way I like it. (Jesus, Jen).

I’m going to take a hot-warm bath and try to put some fuscia in my brain.

And drink some fucking water, for God’s sake!

December 12, 2020. Today, the wind blew! The leaves were unbelievable. Yellow, spitting white gold into the wind!

A Weird One

Digital. Couple days ago.

People are missing what once was there. Or (and?), people are raging for what was promised but never granted. Which one am I? I am the one missing what once was. But what is it that I missed? I think: it must be the togetherness, of us meaning all of us or at least most of us. When there were things to be shared and laughed about together. People’s lives going in different directions even then, but the paths were diverging so subtly for a while that futures were imagined being…together.

So, I’m making quarantine cards in my head, and ideas for projects. A sketch book of a style I used to love as a kid. A style that reminds me of the luscious, jewish black pen of Shel Silverstein. Shel Silverstein, my love, the man I wanted to be one of the friendly monsters in my life. (I should post of photo of him here, really, this is my future library of Self in a way. I might like to remember what he looked like when I am surfing this page 10 years from now).

I’m making something new out of something old. That is what this life of mine, rich with emotion, has come to. A strange patchwork quilt of selves is being reidentified into a new, middle-aged child-artist witch-woman that I am. I feel like a scarily ugly-beautiful, rather stupid, magic-sharting fingerpainter of a woman.

Goal: to only eat seeds, nuts, berries and red apples for a few days and see how it feels. I will never do this. I’ve changed my mind.

I’m planning the creation of things to be made available for selling on Etsy. I have a great many reasons for doing this, and it is actually important to try. I am scared. Scared enough to want to run from it, immediately, even the idea of it makes me feel overpowerered by. Over-ruled am I. I’m an artist. We don’t just make things, we’re a kind of people. You can make nothing and still be an artist. They’re a type. Of person. There are lots or types of people. What I need is a real job. Ugh.

The dark side of the meme, the one that reflects Real Life. I need to put my landscapes together and integrate. I need to do more. I need to strengthen and then I need to maintain. I’m doing a really, really great job, to be sure.


Columbian Witches. I found this as a comment, and I am so sad to say that I was sidetracked while copying and pasting this whole section. Credit goes to someone, for sure, that isn’t me. It realllllly made me smile. It is so wonderful and rich and innocent. It is so sweetly inside of existence, this thing. Realize how many things we treasure that are not at all material. They are ideas and loves and places, and they imprint on our hearts and minds. They shape our reality. They make us believe we are part of a killer culture – a killer couture, really. Anyhow…this was not at all meant in jest:

“I want to discuss witches. And I don’t mean girls who make potions on certain moon phases. I mean women who made a deal with the “devil” in order to become one.

In Colombia, it’s normal to hear stories about entities who come out at night and ambush men, scare animals and do things such as make really tight braids in young women’s hair. Witches are said to destroy marriages, make people sick, kill cattle, steal things and other handful of things Old people say in a house where there are men lacking women attention, a witch can come to give a hand, that’s why many people say if you are a man don’t sweep at night, because that means you need a woman in your house. The reason people think that way is because witches exist since a long time ago and come from the country side, making the whole culture around it extremely sexist and outdated.

It’s said that a witch is not a woman’s human form. As she sleeps, a demon custodies her body and her spirit moves around. That’s why you can’t kill a witch. Although, you can hurt them. But here’s the interesting thing, if you stab or cut a witch it has to be an odd number of times, because the first time it hurts them, and the second time it heals them. That’s why you have to hit them 1, 3, 5 or more times, so it remains injured. Usually, witches are women you know, so when you hurt a witch in her leg, you will later see a neighbour limping. Witches will not recover from their injuries unless the person who gave them it hits them again. They usually make an agreement with whoever hurt them, to not bother them ever again, in exchange of them gaining their health again; and a witch can’t break their promises.

How do you catch a witch inside your house? You may ask. Well, you have to keep her entertained until you wake up to see her, because she won’t enter your home unless everyone is asleep. Witches like numbers, so leaving a huge amount of spilled salt will make her count it, and you may find her in the morning. Also leaving a path of needles may work too, she will try and thread all of them and it could take her all night.

I don’t know if they are real. I’ve heard many relatives and family friends saying they encountered them in the past, but you never know. What do you think?”

I think I love you for that, stranger. And I don’t mean girls who make potions on certain moon phases.

Yes, this had a lot that I did like about it. I’m on the hunt for something new. A new sound to explore.

You know who I love? Lo Moon.

I’m going to be rich.

Golden Ashes

This began as a photo of a beautiful tree with the sun coming in through the top.

The beauty of digital painting is that there really is no permanent fuck-up, it’s always kept in a layer below, the version you always liked. Without the risk, it’s much easier to paint. It isn’t paint, however, and that’s the downside. That said, I really love this piece; I did it today, but not in one sitting. I started with a photo of a tree and fragmentized it, then did a sort of Rorschalk with it and drew in the face that sat atop a kind of beautiful skull I saw in this mirror image thing I started from. And it went from there. Intuitive painting, that’s what I do.

Downtown by Majical Cloudz

These below: The Ash trees are turning golden! It’s so beautiful against a blue sky! Upon the inset mantle, the little alcove above the fireplace, we have our little forest creatures. Super charming and adorable. Gives me lots of chuckles and imaginary company. There’s an onion that began sprouting in the kitchen. Instead of throwing it out, I put it in a pot outside so it can do it’s thing. It’s gone crazy! Those green sprouts, I tasted them and really wonderful; aromatic like chives! Found out they are edible, so I will chop one today and have a baked potato with sour cream, butter and onion greens. Little Mexican nativity Marilyn gave us and reminds me of her. ❤ Delicious persimmons Debbie got for us. There’s another kind, but we ate them all up before I took pictures. 🙂

The house is incredibly cozy and bright for Christmas. I know come January I won’t want to take the tree down. It is so beautiful in here…