A Feeling I Didn’t Have Today, Toxic Ink Painting Archive

Yesterday:

Today.

Life is too hard for me. I can’t be the only one. Does no one outgrow the pain? The pressure? The fear. The loathing. Las Vegas. I seem to be turning into something else, and I have little control – too much control – but goddamn, none at all. I don’t do anything particularly well at all, except this existence thing. Of that, I am very, very…I can’t believe I am rooted in some kind of reality. To tell myself anything else is a lie. The cost of living on the edge, near the veil, so you can be closer to (or is it look from a higher-up perspective! A “better” perspective means one with more complication, more involvement, but a “truer” reality because it contains more “facts”.

I wish I were better at choosing, focusing, staying still for longer periods of time. Shit, I’m fucking down today. Still, yes, it was life I lived today. I know better to know I’m at a place, at a curve, on a cycle of a long-running perpetual-motion machine. I’m just floating along here. I really fucked a lot of things up. There were things that I could have lived differently. But am I just down on myself? After all, at the end of it all I would say it was unique, and human, and not really vague at all. Full of many a Jennifer who would both cause and solve trouble, a Jenny who sat on Santa’s lap; a Jen who did everything with very little and became a magical psychic demon/angel, just like she always thought she might be. But then, I’ve been a lot of people.

Fun question: If all of your personality traits, your ego, how others would describe you, what would your society look like?

My love of this song makes me question “Am I Lesbienne?”
When I listen to myself, I feel like I have the best friend. That’s either incredibly healthy, or psycho unhealthy.

The Way It Is: You are both slave and master to your mind. Zero, yet All.

You’ve got the power to change your mind, and it’s crucial that you do; for you will be a slave to your mind. You will, in each split second not directly commanded, be on Auto Pilot. You will convince yourself through your actions and applications ONLY, and not through constant, repetitious thoughts of the dream of changing. Dreams are where possibilities and truths are born free and wild, and generally in your conscious favor: to embed. But some things buried as seed, whether intentional or not, are growing – having been buried away from the light of awareness and continuous re-action.

Hyacinthe Adam brought us home today. How cool and beautiful! It has to be turned 45 degrees everyday so it remains balanced vertically as it grows, always leaning toward the sun. Can’t wait to watch it grow and BLOOM! When it’s done and gone, this is going to make a great jar for brushes.

I think I can re-work and improve on some of my art and hone better craftsmanship skills (not the priority, however…)

Hmm. What are the priorities right now? Life is so new to me. This…life is fucking crayyyyyyzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzeeeeeeeeeee-e-e-ee-ee-eeeee. Here I am, the same being, but hardly recognizing anything because of how much things change and have changed. I’m the same person, but not at all…or is any of that true? I work so hard, and talk to so many people. I feel huge bands of power coming out of me and through the space we occupy. The waves of energy (all power. All weild power). Everyone pushing, leaking, vomiting, irradiating, radiant and outward as an angel’s welcome-home.

Tired, and will start again tomorrow. lol some people work this hard for years and I have, too. But I feel like this is a new kind of work. A new kind of home, but that’s so strange that everything changes and changed. Wow. Like they say, “life is a ride”. Anyway, I’ve got to go to my lovely bed.

Wednesday, 9pm

We cannot act to align with our stars, we just do. We just do.

I may need to publish every day now, for a while. It might be the healthy thing to do. A small, something-creative, to cut a hole into the side of this daily-grind kind of Olympics I have gotten myself into. Today, I, laughing, shaking my head, said, “fuck this shit, god”. Sometimes, I hate it here.

But, hey. At least I got to take my own picture.