Year of the Rabbit. 2011. Psychic told me this year is going to be amazing. Psychic told me I was a prostuite in a past life and I have a guardian spirit named Harold looking over my right shoulder. Wonder what the stars are doing. Wonder if it matters.
March, dressed in faux fur coat and danced at Holocene, Tube and Beauty Bar in Portland for my birthday then walked the morning misty grey streets of the northeast with my fish-eye lense camera to yoga. Portland, where the daffoldils come on the week of my birthday yet I am not in love with it. Jonathan says it's too ironic but my dislike comes from too many cars. Too much rain. Always cold to me.
Gary and I ran from a cop some Thursday night in downtown Bend for no reason and was there was a chase. When he caught up to us flashlight waving, looking for some bugger who started a fight at Seven, asking us why we ran we couldn't tell him anything and apologized. Talked about Dad and Lost at McMenamins, went to sleep at sister's house down the street.
Organized my finances.
Stopped going to therapy.
Taught some zine classes through the Nature of Words and illustrated for a Olympia, Washington zine for Josh James about Prince.
Guerilla art cork-people project with students from Cascade Academy.
Participated in a zine workshop hosted by my friend Hollie who asked people to draw a picture of themselves and answer, "how would you live your life if no one judged you?"
Wrote about kissing more people.
Telling my secrets to new strangers so I don't have to face the past.
In April dressed as a geisha doll in a fashion show wearing Sarah Vile's Homeslice necklace concoction at the Mad Happy Lounge where afterwards Super Adventure Club played San Fransico video-game Chromeo night beats. Paid ten dollars for a CD so they would play more and go into a Berlin trance with the UNTZ UNTZ UNTZ.
Conducted a self-invented purge ceremony on the evening I scraped my knuckles in the pedestrian tunnel while riding my bike home speaking to a past or present lover which involved turning the heat high, pushing the furniture to the side and belting Rage Against the Machine and Prodigy while spinning. It worked, I tell you. Don't let yourself get stuck in the great motherfucking sad.
Played bike polo the day before Easter in Tumalo at Holly and Peter's house and wouldn't admit to injuring myself attempting to walk on stilts before the Adult Easter Egg hunt (condoms and tequilla) taking shots with Central Oregon's Taylor Lautner who I found an hour later sleeping on the living room floor.
Dance party in a warehouse where I ate sushi and drank damiana labations between DJ's forming a back bend obstacle course fueling energy to dance until 7 in the morning. Breakfast was Nutella and scrambled eggs. Not sleeping long because of Kola Nut,Yohimbe and Korean Ginseng multi-herb I had taken hours before.
Pulled the old woodstove out from the garage with my neighbor and burned the branches and pinecones that had fallen off the trees in the windstorm. Pulled out the rug and laid it on a dead grass dream weeks later with neighbors and wander-bys frying tortillas into chips while Jamie salts them out in the open and out of nowhere comes homebrews and local brews and bikes and all of us packed on the rug sharing cigarettes and marveling at the changed world. Looking off from the roof singing Fleet Foxes and Amazing Grace.
The Mississippi river is flooding. Every interview they conduct with local witnesses sounds like a blues song; "When it gets here I'm gonna run. When the water gets here I'm gonna run."
Prince William got married and I did not see it.
This has happened before, I am sure of it. Or is it deja vu? Sliding synapses losing their rythm. 2011 has not happened before. No timequake here I am sure of it. Because 2011 is the only year I feel has been unique in it's own.
My hair has been doing some funny things this year. February I went at my bangs with sewing scissors over a trash can in front of the long mirror on the floor. Then blonde for the first time since I was 4 in Courtny's sink, then blue a month later sitting on Leesh's toilet making her roommates complain about the lingering and sense depriving smell of bleach to clean up the bathtub. Now it is tragically brown with a slice of blue still left. Anarchy supressed.
Played tambourine with Rural Demons then got hit in the head by a the head of a stand-up bass played by Larry and His Flask's, Jesse Marshall while they busked on a May First Friday in front of Bellatazza.
Thought about sex a lot. A continuing conversation which has ceased to be just silliness. Seriously trying to figure out the secrets of it, admitting how essential it is to feel connected to people with it (and not just a partner, connected to the ebb of humans. To mate is enter into a strangers world unlike words. The only other comparison I can think of is dancing). Grappling with the first earnest desire of getting it. This awkward now. Don't look at me.
Had a photography adventure in Prineville.
Watched my little brother run a half marathon.
Played Bingo at Summit for the Bend Spay and Neuter Project.
Climbed the mountain and asked the wise man at the top, "How is the moment complete in itself? How can I leave it and put it away and move on? How can I stop holding on? The moment sealed in amber on display. Fist-fulls of rececipts, hoarder of sacred moments I base my life on. Should I even let go? What is the way to love? Way to live?"
Mom held me while I cried hot tears in my old green bedroom with the Bob Ross looking painting of three large trees surrounded by water with two mountains in the background.
Said good-bye to my grandma. Under the blankets, telling me the world is going to be tougher in my time and how sad it is.
Had me type in "sex" in her crossword thesaurus when I was quite young and it read, "love-making."
Grandma, who always knows who's the baby's daddy on Maury, makes us beef stew in the squat can with the red label. Potato bread with real butter.
Ginger snaps with milk.
She never understood me being vegetarien.
We couldn't leave the table until everyone was done.
"I can run faster than you think I can," she once told my furrowed brow little brother who threatended to run away. Maybe she could, but it was hard to imagine.
Sun dress and floppy straw hat. She was my sister's grandma. Trying on clothes over clothes at Ross. My brother got her blonde hair and blue eyes.
Sitting next to her in the borrowed hospital bed settled in the old dining room where we had Thanksgiving dinner overlooking the porch with squirrels (what will happen to the squirrels?) I am holding grandmas hand. Pond's Cold Cream on her side table I rub on my neck and momentaily smell like her, soft and clean.
"Let me see your beautiful blue eyes," Mom told me they would say as she laid sleeping and she would open them.
Fresh non-generic scented laundry.
Washing my hair in the sink like they do in the salon.
Watching Jerry Springer, Rickie Lake, Judge Judy, People's Court, Jenny Jones, Montel Williams, Sally Jesse Raphael, Rosie O'Donnell.
Knitted slippers.
Said good-bye to Andrew (friend-of-many-virtues) because he left for St. Louis. He told me to not see boys that were'nt good enough for me. I wrote in a letter that I felt sad he was hit my a car weeks ago because the world should never be cruel to him (he was pushed more than hit. Truck driving jackass who didn't want to stop at the crosswalk for people crossing).
Met someone I am in like with.
