Graduated to Joan Jett, 7th grade

Yeah, looks like me 12-16

Dream date :)

Early Influences

Please note the similarity between these three people.  They were collectively who I was in love with from 2nd grade until 7th grade when I then transferred all love to Joan Jett.

Well, yeah, they all kinda look alike.  But they all made me happy.

Skypeing Monkeys

Dear Universe,

If monkeys are taught to send instant messages or even text messages, can you please have one sent to me?  Zack Galifianakas is my brother/hero/favorite person.

Zack, if you are god or something could you also send me a skype-sheep?

Love,
Laura

I remember when I couldn't imagine what I couldn't do.  I remember being little and not understanding that there was a limit to what I was capable of.  Do you remember people telling you your boundaries and rejecting the idea?  What if we could tap into the magic that it was to be that small and full of wonder?

Try this...

Think about swinging.  You are going up and down.......swish, swish, swish.  Imagine yourself at the top of your forward swing.  Remember that moment when you lose contact with the seat?  Remember the few milliseconds of weightlessness?  Now, try to remember what your feet looked like.  Do you have on red tennis shoes?  White ones?  Or those little black babydoll patent leather ones with tall knee socks?  What do your feet look like against the sky?  That is the magical moment.  The outline of your feet against the vastness of space.

You are standing on forever.

I used to dream of worlds within worlds.  There was a window in the cellar under the house.  It was only about as big as a computer screen and at the same level as the ground.  So when you looked out, all you saw was grass and sky.  Climbing out of that window, to me, meant going into another world.  Perhaps there was a girl there, just like me wondering what was in that teeny window.  Of course there were knomes and faeries and alien creatures living there!  Each night I would go to sleep and wander down into the cellar of my mind and find that secret door to the other side.  Sometimes I would dream of bringing things with me to show the people over there what it was like over here.  If people can believe in God, someone who walked on water, someone who could make angels and worlds, then why does someone have to be a nutcase to believe in other worlds or objects that defy logic?  What about uncertainty?  What about quarks and leptons?  What about all that space between electrons?  What about all that space between planets?  What about all that space between neurons?  What is happening in those magical places?

And what if I am just making it all up?  What if right now, you are simply a character I created in my own imagination to read my blog?  Are you real?  Am I real?  What if I am simply a character YOU created in your imagination?  If so, thank you, I am quite enjoying your space/time.  If you did create me, does that make you god?  (Next time you hear someone saying "Thank God!"  you can think to yourself, "You're welcome.")

Now, imagine yourself getting up from where you are, going outside, feeling the sun on your face and the ground under your feet........And spin until you are dizzy.  You are magic.

Hahaha! Hey, y'all!

Learn Spanish
Color in a coloring book
Ride in a helicopter
Pilot a plane
Travel to:
Japan
Amsterdam
San Francisco
Savannah
NYC
Montana
Seattle
Province town
Juneau
Paris
Niagara Falls
Germany
Italy
Greece
Kazakhstan
India

and also:
Volcanoes
Pyramids
Caves at Lascaux
India
Write a book
Ride all the roller coasters
Zip line

Thank you, MaryAlice

Daily Hauntings

My past chases me wherever I go, interjecting insecurity into just about every situation. I am damaged goods to most, a victim, although now an adult, who should be way over some things. It amazes me how hard I have already worked and how much more there is to go.

I am full of misunderstandings, but the worst is simple self-indulgence. I am nearly always certain that everything is my fault. Guess this makes it easier to take responsibility, but also a way of obtaining control in a world that seems crazily topsy-turvy or excruciatingly banal.

Lacking a good moral compass, I flounder around working toward some ill-defined goal, trying to have integrity and failing. Repeatedly.

So, I am all about me? Who else though, do I have to hang out with year after year, night after night. I am the common denominator, after all, in my failed relationships. So then, shouldn't I figure out a way to indulge or even think about the me that is?

"Am I pretty?"
"Am I pretty?"
"Am I pretty?"

My tennis shoes are lost somewhere. How am I going to swing without them? I won't be able to see thier outline against the afternoon sky.

Lost, time, money, child.
Lovers, hands, meaning, twins.
Beards, spit, God, mother.
Medication, space, quiet, blood.

And a wedding dress with no shoes. Isn't it harder for a barefooted woman to flee?

There is a beautiful place in here, a beautiful space, but it is just right beside that other place, too. That black place that I have bandaged and rebandaged. It feels farther away most of the time until something hurts, then it all comes pouring back onto me like pancake batter made of shit. And the ugliness comes spewing out. I fight her back, I cram things into her mouth to shut her up. There are only a couple of people who know her, that me.

I am bringing the bible to my studio to serve as a sort of totem. Perhaps I will also find a copy of the Qu'ran or the Torah. Again, I am unsure, just wandering aimlessly through this microcosm, trying to see what was so frightening as a child.

I am smarter than being a __________. Although I am deeply emotional and intuitive, it still seems, well, kinda juvenile. Do people really need these regulations? I mean, are they really that incapable of figuring things out on their own or from each other?

Santa Claus was a good idea at the time, I reckon. And I believed in him whole-heartedly. It was magic. I have been told that I, too, can have magic. But, don't you have to actually believe in the magic for it to work?

Peace, peach, lust.
Rib, feminist, sharpie.
Depth, key, penetration.

There will always be a man standing behind a door waiting, peeking through the crack, shaking and catching his breath as I turn. I will always be youthful and sexualized and powerless. Is it Santa or God?

Do you think that I can get some of that magic inside me? Can I get it in there? Will it reach that spot that I so often have to hire out for? Jesus, can you actually save me?

Johnathan & David

Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul. And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that [was] upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle....I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. 1 Samuel 18:3-4 & 2 Samuel 1:26

Scanning the landscape of his body

This is the scan of the tumor after 4 months of chemotherapy. In the middle you see the spine coming down, then the kidneys on either side, below that the butterfly of the hip structure. And in the midle of that, the bright light.....the tumor. When we started the tumor was 3cm in diameter. It's bigger: BIGGER. It never dawned on me that would be possible. I imagined a skip lesion happening, metastatic lesions in the lungs, but not a bigger tumor. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I guess we arent getting any surgery this month. Just more chemo. Now we will begin the ifosfomide and atoposide. Yipee, new frontiers of puking, shitting and bleeding!

I miss my kid. I just wish he was coming home drunk or something, so that I could give him a lecture.....His quiet, peacefull sleeping is killing me.

DISAPPEAR

Today i am invisible except for the tightness in my left shoulder. (My sister says that we all share this same ailment, the women in our family.) I wanted so badly to just dissolve into the background this past year. Nathan's Illness has provided the perfect opportunity to do just that. I have successfully removed myself from any and all connection to the outside world, outside the hospital anyway. I watch movies, the news and read books. I only see my mom and my sister, nurses and the occasional doctor. There is also a social worker who lurks around looking for ways to criticize how I am caregiving. It is really annoying. Yes, he really just wants to freaking sleep! No, he isnt unduly depressed. He is pissed because he is nauseous all the freaking time! Yes, I understand that you did all this WAY differently, but this is the way WE are doing it. I am following NATHAN's cues. He expects me to talk to doctors, nurses and advocate for him while he is busy healing, etc.

I am spending nearly every waking moment with him. I am not a martyr, though. Just doing what I want to, being his mom. Making up for lost time. Enjoying looking over and he is just right there. I can't make him better, but I damn sure can make him comfortable.

Do you think I am actually naive enough to think that he will survive this? Nah, I know that he is probably going to die. Not today though, so today will just simply have to be as good as it can be, especially if I have some part in that. I just want to do everything for him that he wants...and he wants me here. period.

I want to get him out of the hospital, away from the chemo, away from the germs, away from piss and shit and vomit and really bad food. I want to take him to the ocean, to walk the coast in the sun, let the salt dissolve what is left of the tumor.

I want to help him escape, to disappear, without actually dying.

Osteogenic Sarcoma: Osteosarcoma

Time: My child, who is supposed to be grown at 20, was recently diagnosed with bone cancer. I say recently because it seems like just a second ago, but it was actually nearly 4 months ago. Time just keeps passing by us so quickly. Neither one of us were very good at keeping up with what day it was as we are both creative thinkers and idealists and any time is a good time. Only, no time is a good time for cancer.

Words: Osteosarcoma was the first big word I heard that I didn't love. I have had a love affair with words since I was little and won that ice cream for reading chrysanthemum in class. In fourth grade I never dreamed that I would have a child growing up. I had planned my life around traveling the globe, learning new words, languages and cultures. There have been many surprises along the way, but Nathan was my favorite. He was a little wordsmith from the beginning and taught me patience, kindness, love, strength and determination. Since he was diagnosed I have learned that I have been a really great parent so far. It really pisses me off that we have worked so hard together to end up in a hospital. Together we have learned words like malignant (not so far), cisplatin, methotrexate and the true meaning of exhaustion. One of his nurses tells me that I will know more about osteosarcoma than she does by the time all this is over. Every day, I search the internet, for words that could lead to comfort or a cure. Clinical trials, wheatgrass and some crazy hospital in Southern California are no help, but I am storing the information in the back of my head, just in case.

Just in case: I don't usually prepare for much. I am a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kinda girl. Nathan has done well with this kind of parenting since he is pretty easy-going and always welcomed change. Not like some of my friends' kids who freaked out if you took them to McD's instead of BK. When he was little, I was always just hopping in the car and saying, "Hey, let's go for a ride and see where the car takes us!" Nathan always said, "Ok, Mom, let's go!" We would decide when we got there. This hospital stuff has forced us to plan. We have to both think of how what we are doing right now will affect us in a few minutes or hours. We are trappd in this cell of a hospital room, trying not to be bored out of our minds. We watch endless hours of tv, movies online and play the occasional video game: when he feels up to it. When he doesn't, I watch him sleep. I count his respirations, like I have seen the nurses do. Sometimes he only breathes 9-10 times a minute. When he pauses, I wonder if he is going to breathe again. I am saving up these times, just in case. I look at him and try to burn his face into my mind, just in case. I have lost a lot of people to death, accidents, illness and suicide. And I know that part of the healing process is allowing yourself to let part of them go. For me, the most disturbing part of letting someone go is forgetting what they look like. I can't imagine that I will ever forget my child's face. But, it has changed so much over the years, from bright-eyed little boy who believed that I was magic to disilliusioned teenager who thought I could do nothing right. And now, finally, this wise, thin, beautiful angel with fair skin and no hair. I look at him, stare, just in case. Because I know that osteosarcoma takes 40% of its victims. The ones with the best chances, could still die. I mean, if there was a 60% chance of rain, wouldn't you bring an umbrella? If his next bone scan reveals that this has metastesized, his chances drop even more. I have always been an optimist, I really have, but I am not stupid and I cant pretend that he might not make it. So, unlike myself, I try to prepare what I will never be ready for.

Words: fungus, virus, bacteria. I never imagined that these words, familiar words, scientific words that conjured up images of class projects made of styrofoam and tempera paint, could be so frightening. They are supposed to remind me of fun words like endoplasmic reticulum. How can these tiny words match up to something as strong as my son? Well, for one thing even a tiny infection can cause big problems...even if it is only to slow down the process of chemotherapy. Twice we have battled with thrush (candida) so bad that he could hardly swallow. And once, it kept him from getting a much needed feeding tube in his stomach. And, god forbid, his immunodeficient system should come into contact with mrsa or some other hospital acquired illness. These tiny things could all kill him. Yet, we are here, day in and day out. I wish we were safer.

Time: Showers used to be the time when I would think about ideas. I would let my mind wander, sometimes figuring things out in my paintings, sometimes in my daily life and sometimes where I had screwed up along the way. Regardless, it was a time to relax and let my mind unwind. Now showers are frantic races. I am always listening with one ear, with the door open, just like when he was little and into everything. I have to be careful that I dont miss a pee queue or we will be changing sheets and gowns, etc. I scramble to wash/rinse my hair fast so that my ears arent under the water too long. Plus, what if he just doesn't make it through my next shower? I better hurry, just in case. Now, showers have become a place to let my tears flow freely. I am not required to be strong because no one can see me cry in there. But,my long, luxurious time spent in the shower has now become 5 minutes of intense crying, anger and fear.

I am hoping that writing about what is happening here will help. My life has changed so completely in these last few minutes/months. I know that I will never be the same. I am lucky that I have had the opportunity to love such a great kid. And I am grateful that he is still alive. But, I really just wish he would wake up and be fine.

Women I love: Catherine Opie, Harry Dodge, Daniela Sea

Hear what I'm saying?

inside the inside

Dear Cloe,

I know that you wonder if people are out there listening...well, we are. I am thrilled to find your boxes and words. You make the world seem as dark and mysterious as the one in my head. I finger buttons all the time absently wondering how the physics of them manages to hold the waist of my pants together. I pop them so often it seems like sport. I come up with a zillion ingenious ways to keep my pants closed (don't worry, they won't fall down, I am quite chubby in the middle and my hips are ample and wide and nothing gets past them). I like the smoothness of buttons and the bump in the middle from the thread. It reminds me of a pillow case my grandmother had. It had tiny knots all over it in the shape of a grid and where it wasn't knotted, it was silky.

If you ever need a place to drop off your notes, leave them here with me.

http://clohistory.wordpress.com/

Oh, yeah...Lesbians for Supper

Lucky me, I am getting to know the lgbt community here in Chattanooga. This is my material, the work I do, the life I enjoy. I am hoping that my introduction into this part of the community yields some sort of client relationship between me and my target audience. I spent the better part of last evening with a new, young couple who are fun, brilliant and full of those crazy-in-love chemicals. It was refreshing to talk to someone who is viewing the community with new eyes. S is the least experienced of the two and this is her first girlfriend, so she is thinking in terms of not necessarily lesbian, but more specifically 'in love with her and she just happens to be female.' This is an interesting phenomenon that I have witnessed countless times in young, femme women. Butch girls seem to find out and accept who they are easier and way earlier. (Look, I am not generalizing, seriously, I am just talking about the tomboyish girls, so don't get your panties in a wad.)

I was one of those more femme girls: in dance, ballet, tap, played with dolls and dress-up and makeup and house. I was one who had been taught that when you grow up, you get married and have babies and treat your man right. In spite of the fact that my mother was a big feminist back in the 70's, her message still wasn't as strong as society's main message to the young women I knew. Since I didn't play sports or hang out with guys in a one-on-one friend kinda way, I was not privy to gross talks about being a "carpetmuncher" or "lizzy" like my more tomboy counterparts. I simply had never even heard about being a lesbian until I was in high school. And even then there was no dialogue outside of overhearing someone say that "Susan in biology...is a lizzy, i think she likes you, eeeewwww!!"

I am hoping to just hang out here in the South and spread my good lesbian cheer around by being very out and about so that young people, like I once was, may have someone to look up to. It's about educating one person at a time and sharing the wealth of love I have learned from women.

Taking my own pulse

Well I am here but I am scared. I dont know what to do next. I am not sure what go with the flow means.....What is the flow? This is infiltrating so much of my thinking.

Thumbsuckers and Southern Comfort

When did I first turn to loneliness for comfort? When did my isolation before bring me such pleasure and warmth? Why must the darkest part of me succeed in bringing me lower and lower until I am breathing in the dirt that was once beneath my feet?

God has forsaken me....And I have forsaken myself. How will I ever be true when I am so fake, so empty. This then is that empty pool that shelley, emily and amy spoke of. In here, where everything is bleak and dry, I clutch my hand to my chest digging, hoping for there to be something more than nothing. Jealous, envious and alone, I have begged God to just take me away from the misery, for he is the only one that can separate me from myself.

Perhaps that is why I have chosen to be atheist? Because I give up entirely my power over self and sit like a lady in waiting, just wishing for someone to come along on a fine steed and help me down out of this self-made tower. How many years has it taken me to dig that moat, to plant those thorns? Thousands, twenty-five, maybe.

Fuck this thinking....I am going back to my movie watching, drinking and checking out for a few hours. Thank God for mass media, the Internet and a well-brewed glass of something cold.

Letter to myself

I cant believe that i finally made it. I am going to be fine, ok and great! How did I luck up on being ok? Well, I guess it was lots and lots of really hard work. I have been praying these last few days that I would get some kind of peace from my current situation.

How could I have been so silly to just jump like that, you ask? Well, i figured, what the hell? I mean, what did i really have to lose? Nothing! I just wanted to see what would happen and now i will always know and not just wonder what might have been. I really loved my fantasy life...It was quite beautiful and fun, but I dont miss that part of it, because I still have me. I am good in here. I feel centered and quiet on the inside. Not nervous and shaky and scared. Just quiet and peaceful. I feel extremely fortunate to have survived the things I have in the last few years. My old ghosts were fighting hard to overcome my thinking. But, I have persevered and conquered them. In my mind, i found a quiet place and i have taught myself to sit and listen and shush the ugly voices that tell me that everything is wrong or stupid. I guess i finally found the thing i was looking for so many years ago when i was sitting under that little tree in the grass, just listening. I knew it was possible, but I just didnt know how to get there. There was not a map from A-Z just the possibility that Z was there. I have since, over the years, drawn that map (sometimes in piss and blood, sometimes in paint, sometimes in chocolate syrup).

Wherever I was supposed to be going, I feel like I am on the way now. Just floating downstream into the future that welcomes me with warm arms and a full belly.

Good job, Laura, we did it.

I love you.

Thank you, Emily

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part One: Life XIII

THE SOUL selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.
Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s pausing	5
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.
I ’ve known her from an ample nation
Choose one;	10
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.

New Favorite

http://3quarksdaily.blogs.com/3quarksdaily/2006/01/index.html

Word Portrait

Strong, husky-voice
masculine features
tough
the boss
top
giver
genius
Trivia winner
mis-pronouncer
smoker
butch
sporty
chicken (ha!)

Dichotomy

Hey, what can I say here? I am in heaven. I am scared to death and grinning like a fucking lunatic.

I love moving....I am working on finding a house here in the neighborhood where I live. I want to walk to work every day and hang out by the river. How cool would that be?

So, this dichotomy that I am supposed to be working on....One side of me says, "your work is valid, lyrical and beautiful." The other says, "What? This crap? Who would buy this? Who would want this hanging on their wall? No one in their right mind, that's who!"

I am supposed to come to some sort of terms with these two very distinct and arguing parts of myself.

Maybe we should make a list:

Yeah
My work is beautiful. My drawing skills are exquisite. When I make a mark, I do it with my entire soul. The music in the work sings. The work is unique because it expresses this person (me) at this particular time (now) in history. And since I am different and smarter than your average bear, the work is very important to describe history. As a lesbian, as a Southerner, as a former Christian, as a previously physically and sexually abused girl, as a victim, as a survivor, as an entrepreneur, as a leader, as a capable woman who has chosen abortion twice over children just to do her work.

I have invested so much time and a degree to this work, the least I could do is make it work for me.

Oh, yeah, and it's fun. I really like making things.

Nay
My work is unfinished. Unframed. Not cohesive. Not a body of work. Hard to understand. Cryptic. So out of touch with reality no one will understand it. Too 'highbrow' or, yeah, right, not even good enough to be considered lowbrow or folk.
Many of the paintings still have issues that need to be resolved.
Fucking studio? I am paying $200 a month to have an empty space that I rarely go to. Dunno if it is really worth it. And, Gloria knows the combination anyway.

OMG, i need coffee.

I want a house with wood floors that is cozy and small and easy to clean with a small back yard that hopefully backs up to the woods. A fireplace would be really sweet and air conditioning is not optional.

gee

Weakness In Me - Melissa Etheridge

Oh, yeah i have that one.

How to Survive and Prosper as an Artist: Selling Yourself without Selling your Soul

Caroll Michels

Van Morrison's Moondance Lyrics

Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush


Can I just have one more Moondance with you, my love
Can I just make some more romance with you, my love

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I can't wait 'til the morning has come
And I know that the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run
And when you come my heart will be waiting
To make sure that you're never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear
There and then I will make you my own
And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside
And I know how much you want me that you can't hide

Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
And I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heart-strings that play soft and low
And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

One more Moondance with you in the moonlight
On a magic night
La, la, la, la in the moonlight
On a magic night
Can't I just have one more dance with you my love

......Of course.

Sylvie Fortin

Cornell West (public intellectual)
Writing vs. Curating
Emerging Curators
Anachronism
Building Frenzies
University of Syracuse
UCLA
Ghetty Foundation

Where are the arts journalists?

Switzerland
Germany

What I am doing or dreaming of doing

For Lynden Cline the catalyst

There was the conversation about the brother.....taking time to listen to others' description of what a brother is instead of immediately picturing our own.

Then we talked about 3 Words, 5 Minutes which I will more than likely use as a title for one of my future pieces.


Then I shared the poem Not Waving, But Drowning because of your collaborative piece Drowning from the Inside....thank you especially for that one.

Drowning from the Inside
Lynden Cline (photo by

Ok, so a painting by Monday? Lots of pressure, I reckon, but I am up for the challenge.

4 Bridges poster
The Flower Guy and Lou Gehrig's

Movies:
The Diving Bell-- with words ;) and Jean Doe
Wings of Desire--Wim Wenders

Drawing movie Mirrormask
Persopolis, Closetland, Donnie Darko, Don Juan Demarco
Secret Window
Books:
Writing Down the Bones

Throwing books like Art & Fear

Dirt stories.....note--don't take Lynden's dirt!

New Happenings in the life

Yesterday was another really good day.......I wonder how I am lucky enough to have so many of these days in a row. I have heard that you should never look a gift horse in the mouth and since that sounds very funny, but dangerous, I do it every time.

The day started at the studio, where I began a larger than life sized drawing on my studio wall, read a little art history about the body from cave drawings to modern art and luckily found out about a little art gathering that was to take place at Rivoli last night. I relish my time at the studio. It never fails that when I leave there, I feel both energized and relaxed. The work that I am currently doing isn't harsh and heavy like some of my previous work. I keep having these fantastic lucid dreams and they are having a direct effect on everything I am doing.

My son came to work today to volunteer so that I could go to the Bill Thelen (a.k.a. Lump Lipshitz) Lecture. It was enlightening and inspiring to hear about an artist who has succeeded in the art world on his own terms. Bill's talk was vague, cerebral and comfortingly awkward. I want a t-shirt. You can see some of his gallery's work and his work at teamlump.org. I think I will start my own collective....If you are interested in joining, drop me a line.

The highlight of my day was hanging out at the studio after the lecture. There was an impromptu art party there, which I would like to call "Drumming Session Number One" because of the great live music. I didn't realize that on top of being fantastic artisans, Rivoli has fantastic musicians to boot! I met some wonderful new folks including, but not limited to a fabulous jeweler and her husband. Much to my surprise, this jeweler has been next door to me at InTown Gallery for quite some time. She is an avid blogger like me and has already added a link to avasource.blogspot.com. I am absolutely thrilled!
This picture is for Mr and Ms Florer....it is a page right out of Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children, that comic series collection I was telling you both about. I wish Olga was lying on a couch....

Mad World- Gary Jules from Donnie Darko

Falling Slowly- From the movie Once- The Frames

Alison- Elvis Costello

Wading Through Jello

These last few months have been crazy slow. It seems as though it is impossible to get this business of art off the ground. But, suddenly, I am lucky enough to get my brain around some incredibly useful tools (like google analytics) and between that and learning some basic html, my brain has opened up again.

The paintings that I have been constructing (mostly in my head) are indirectly related. The breakthrough has pushed my always researching mind into create mode! Sometimes it feels like magic when I am creating, but I know that painting is a byproduct of the wonderful amounts of input I get. I don't believe that the brain ever stops making new connections.

I have been courted by a publisher who is asking to use one of my paintings as a book cover. This news has finally proved to me that I won't have to rely on some lucky young woman coming across my work in a long-forgotten trunk to make an impact on the world. It also means that I will have to go to disney world, visit the cinderella castle and yell out, "Ok, ok, I do believe!" And now I have to figure out how in the world did Cambridge University press find me?

Inspiration from a Fellow Blogger

"You can feel 'safe' you know the white picket fence American dream, but every utopia has to have a jail and a graveyard: you're safer finding danger than wasting your time protecting yourself from it."

Practical advice from a quotable lifeguard.

fkfkfkfkfk no there isnt a way around the way i have to go fkfkfkfk

sickandtireandsickandtiredandsickandtiredandmad

aroomofonesown lie

iwillnotpanic

2yearstogobeforetherv?

Guilt: Contrapasso Modern Dance

Indigo Girls: Romeo & Juliette

Melissa Ferrick's Drive

GLBT History Month

I have been back here in Chattanooga for over a year and was not aware that Bessie Smith was bisexual. What a rich history I was missing out on! Maybe you will see someone on here that you can relate to. I have loved her music since I first heard her. She was a major influence on one of my other favs Janis Joplin. Seems like something I should have just known....

Chattanooga has an entire hall dedicated to Bessie Smith, not to mention the annual Bessie Smith Strut. Wonder how many 'noogans are aware of this gay factoid?

Happy GLBT History Month! I feel extra gay after reading up on all this fabulous history.

Hugs to all the stone butches in the world. Especially my favorite: you know who you are.

Ok, I know, it's just the funniest pic ever.

I am currently searching the world (internet and otherwise) for images of strong, butch women. Apparently I haven't the foggiest idea how to find anything. I keep digging and digging and to tell you the truth, I am going to have to become a photographer. I need images to reference when painting (and for my own viewing pleasure, of course). This is precisely why I am working on paintings about strong women. There just aren't enough out there.

Here are a few cool places I did find some cool les pics: http://www.sappho.com/art/ByTimePeriod.html

New Work

Dichotomy Series:
Tender/Tough
These are two in a series of 8 at this point. There is quite a bit of dialogue between the pieces. Boxers, wrestlers and reclining figures.

Happy Painting

Today, with the help of the North Shore community and many visitors, we created a mural in from of the Association for Visual Arts. I found joy in sharing the love I have for painting with everyone around and I met some great folks, too!

The Market Street Bridge is opening for business tomorrow and everyone is out celebrating today. I will post some pics tomorrow of the work.

Bingeing and Purging

Your work reminds me of high school when I was fat....Well, not really, I actually weighed less than I should but was convinced that I was bulging out of everything. I remember reading a novel once about a woman who found her body to be comfortable and beautiful, just the way you describe yourself. It was so completely foreign to me to read those words and I longed to feel the same way.

When I go back and look at images of myself, I am amazed at how completely beautiful I was and the disparity between how I looked and how I felt is alarming. I think this work is important and is a more accurate recording of history than historians will create.

I remember meeting you when you did your "dress me sexy" work. You looked very pretty the day I talked to you and I remember wondering if I should paint you into the work I was doing. Most of my work is about the female body. I paint the figure over and over again trying to capture what it means to be me both now and when I was younger and had a very distorted body image.

I am also working on a series of works about butch women. I am a feminine lesbian who happens to be amazed and in love with the butch mystique (whether male or female) and am using images of wrestlers.....old women wrestlers from the 50's, modern kick boxers and ultimate fighting participants.

Thank you for sharing your work. I really enjoy it even though I find the images, the idea of being paris hilton, the idea of this vacant girl we assume has nothing in her head, very disturbing. As a girl who was told over and over again that I was "too pretty to cry" I know for a fact there is more there than she will ever let us see.

You can view Laura Milkins work at www.myspace.com/lauramilkins or at lauramilkins.com/

While calculating the probability of actually completing a sentence,
I reflected on the cost of water.

She turned to me and said,

"It couldn't have been you there. I am sure it had to be someone else. Although, she really did look like you, it is very unlikely we were ever in the same place at the same time."

As if I didn't know where I had been! I can't believe that she can just snow herself into thinking that. How bad is it if you lie to yourself repeatedly? When do you actually lose touch with reality completely? She was standing there beside me....I could never forget that profile. She has these brilliant green eyes: kind, but hiding a deep intelligence and sadness about the world. I coulda been a goner right then and there, but she just smiled a weary smile reserved for anyone who happened to be in her line of sight at the time. I knew that she was either busy or unavailable in that moment and left it alone. I dunno, I was smoky and bloated from the beer...not my best pickup look.

If only I could have known how much I would love her later. I would have grabbed her by her face and made her look at me.

I don't care what she says, I can still see her in that red dress, barefoot on the beach. Why did she do this? How can she make such a quick decision? She must just be terrified and in denial. Doesn't she understand that I am what is best for her?

We could spend our days discussing art and contemplating the universe! Isn't that what she needs? Isn't that what she wants? Me arranging everything for her while she writes and paints, free from all other distractions? Damn her.

Gertrude and Alice

The entire Chattanooga Locomotion team is full of strong, butch women. How in the heck did I miss that? I am one second from running out the door and right down to wherever they are. How can I get in the middle of that dogpile? I wanna be a rabbit. I know that everything nice that happens to me is because of some wonderful, kind thing I did, right? Isn't that the cosmic way? Yeah, whatever, it seems like when I am at my baddest, I am at my best. Why is it that I have to choose between good Laura and my evil twin? I am gushy, squishy, messy and happy about it. Why do I insist on forcing myself into this corseted way of being when I just want to run and dance and sing? Who is the boss of me? I'll tell ya: the person that gives me money to pay my bills. Damn them. I could try the teenage eating disorder way outta this and control my life by deciding what happens to my body. I am simply too lazy to go to the trouble and what If I get all terrible skinny like anna nicole. She was way squishy-hot before trying the deathdiet crap.

I got this. I mean, I got it. I have figured out that things are just going to keep happening and I am going to have HAVE to get into trouble. I just can't help myself. I try and try to be good, but it is so very boring and I get so desperate. Maybe working out will help. Maybe making work will help. It just seems like the only thing that really does the trick is doing tricks (or turning them). See, there is all this water here and all this green, everything blooming, growing, squeezing out. That is what keeps happening to me. I just get full and it all comes pouring out.

Come and grab this, flip up the skirt and fly in from behind.

Update

This is the updated version. The photo is pretty bad, but it is late and there is no light 'cept for the flashbulb here. I will change this out tomorrow and add some other stuff that I am working on.

Update

Witches

There are witches in the hills calling my name
saying come join us sister, come kiss the flame
"Come dance in the moonbeams, ride the night wind
make love to the darkness and laugh at man's sins
I shiver with delight, I shiver with fear
my heart wants to go but my soul's filled with fear
So I turn to my lover and ask what do I do
do I answer their call or stay here with you
But under spell of deep sleep he moans and turns away
taking his protection and my desire to stay
So I rise to the hill tops, I ride the night winds
I make love to the darkness and laugh at man's sins."

Witches
by Cowboy Junkies
The Caution Horses

Drawing

Charcoal on Paper
18x24 in.

The Swan after Leda

Sketchbook page
Charcoal
18x24 inches

Figure Study

Charcoal on Paper
12x20 in

Babydoll

charcoal on canvas
24x36 in.

Strong Women Cleaning House

Twisting and twisting one garment after another, my arms are tired from washing but they are strong. My fingers ache from the cold water and my skin is cracking from the slippery soap. Nothing is bad as my neck. There is a tiny point where every labor pain I have ever had gathers just there on the left next to my shoulder. If you press there, I breathe sharp and my knees give way.

Sugar Gliders

Have you EVER in your life seen something so cute?

This is one of the babies that StacieGracie is breeding. I get the privilage of helping her with the cages on the days that she lets me. I can't even begin to talk about how tiny these critters are and how they hug your fingers and gaze up at you like you are the jolly green giant. They are marsupials so they have babies and the babies go into a pouch and are called Joeys. They really do fly (well, glide) and they become attached to their owners. They simply make me happy to see and pet. Oh, and by the way, you can carry them in your BRA! You can take your pet anywhere and who could say anything about it?

You can learn more about sugar gliders at glidergoodes.com.

Thank you for the wonderful comments

I just wanted to thank everyone for looking at this site and letting me know whatcha think. Make sure you put your first name or initials at the end of the comment, that way I can hug you when I see you or call you and shower you with the proper praise.

By the way, I just watched "My Date with Drew" (thanks to Stacie the Gracie) and I can't believe this little gem got past me. I am so glad to see that the lovers, the dreamers and me do get to take a crack at things and that all hope is not lost. I can't get through a nervous drive to an interview without thinking about Grease II: "I need a C-O-O-L R-I-D-E-R!"

If you see anything else out there I had BETTER see, then let me know. And, if you need a Snoopy Snowcone Machine, I happen to have one!



www.mydatewithdrew.com

Lead Mine Valley Road

Goodbye dirt road, hello pavement. Yesterday I visited the old Waddell farm. When I was a girl, I ran down that dirt driveway to hang with my friend Shelley and her daddy and milked cows. Now it is divided into a neighborhood.

John Mellancamp was right.

I Know You'll Know

Thank you, Fiona Apple, for the beautiful lyrics:

So be it, Im your crowbar
If thats what I am so far
Until you get out of this mess
And I will pretend
That I dont know of your sins
Until you are ready to confess
But all the time, all the timeIll know, Ill know
And you can use my skin
To bury secrets inA
nd I will settle you down
And at my own suggestion,
I will ask no questions
While I do my thing in the background
But all the time, all the time
Ill know, Ill know
Baby-i cant help you out,
while shes still around
So for the time being,
Im being patient
And amidst this bitterness
If youll just consider this-even if it dont make sense
All the time-give it time
And when the crowd becomes your burden
And youve early closed your curtains,
Ill wait by the backstage door
While you try to find the lines to speak your mind
And pry it open, hoping for an encore
And if it gets too late, for me to wait
For you to find you love me, and tell me so
Its ok, dont need to say it.

"I Know" by Fiona Apple

Ruin of the Romance

Congratulations on being FueltheScene.com Band of the Month you guys! Sarah and Charlie, you make me proud.

Check this cool band out on the website and hear some great tunes. Sarah is the bassist and Charlie is the drummer, they are pictured here on the left, Pigtails is she and blue shirt is he.

Love you guys! You kick serious rock Ass!!!