Monday, November 30, 2015

Things Change Fast Sometimes

My show is this coming Sunday, came faster than I expected. Still painting. I painted until like 1030 pm so I could do the dishes because smelltard upstairs goes mental if I make noise. I felt tres annoyed I have this smelly tool bothering me, impeding on my life and senses. I asked God to remove him from my life in a nice way. Daisy helped me get new tubes for the ligths since his bonking around blew out one of them again, Dickhead. I know it is not nice to name call, I know that.

The last of the sunflowers but they didnt make it
I did join back up at pof. This time I like my profile better too. I seem to have attracted more attractive men this time, in the first two days, or even the first day. One guy might come to my thing and hopefully buy a painting. He told me he just bought a condo and needed to decorate the walls. Yasss decorate your walls. I think I am not attracted to him in that way but I like his vibe. The next one is a bit younger than me and describes himself as part George Clooney. Whoops. Especially when he asked me for a picture of my eyes because they are the windows to the soul. I took a picture of me framing my eyes with my fingers.

He wrote me back that I won, and now I had his interests. That put me off. Taking the photos was challenging, the levels of self-hate popping up like corns on the cob, with proof right there in front of me when I would take yet another picture that came back very scary. So scary I do not have the balls to post any

Then there is the other guy. He has nice pictures, is tall and part Native. Yummy. BUT I have my red light s flashing full siren, they are spinning, making noise to get my attention.  Danger, danger, danger, read the signs. This guy is one of those, I think.

I feel attraction, heat and I want to cry. I dont trust it, I am better off not trusting this guy and sending him away with my nice form letter: 

 "Hi to you too. Thank you for the note, it made me smile.

You are handsome and seem interesting but I do not feel we are a match. I wish you the best in your search here.

Take care,
 I am relieved most guys go away nicely when I send that and I dont mind if they put time into reading my profile and contacting me, I like to acknowledge that. After the line " made me smile" I can add in something subjective to them which is perfect for me.

I would like to trust someone. And feel that chemistry.
I have a big day tomorrow. I was meant to go deliver paintings to the Starving Artist thing but I am not going. It is not working out and I would rather focus this time on my own show.

Friday, November 27, 2015

The Mourning Full Moon, Starving Artist Gala, and Getting off POF Dating Site, Feels Like Fresh Air

Black Friday, rainy and cold. I didnt leave the house except to feed the birds. When I went out there were a bunch of pigeon feathers. Some other thing ate the rest of the bird. It was deathly quiet out there, no birds around. I raked up all the feathers and said warm prayers for the poor bird.

Paint Night # 2 went well. Six women, one older the rest younger. PN#1 had six older women and one younger, interesting huh?

The Mourning Moon came and went. The Mourning Moon, the Fall full moon, the last one of the year before Winter. I read that it puts light into all the dark that happened over the last year. The things that didnt happen we let go of. Letting go of the dark. Gitiku, Gituku, Gituku, bye, send him away on feathers, like the pigeon prey consumed by the predator. Feathers flowat away from me and I let it go.

I took my pof profile down too. I am glad for the most part. It is a bit of a fun diversion but mostly it is not fun. It is like going into a stuffy building with no air inside. Now that I have crashed through the doubles doors to the fresh air outside, I dont want to go back in.

Men, geez. Not all men, thank God but a certain kind I attract like dryer lint, sticking to me and useless.

I will spare the stories for now. I just ate dinner, brown short-grained rice cooked in homemade chicken stock and the juice of a lemon. I cut up a carrot and a stick of celery, diced up a garlic clove, chopped up a cool small local onion, super hard and nice and put it in apple cider vinegar to pickle. I cooked a couple of eggs in coconut oil and added parmesean reggiano. I cut p a nice handful of cilantro and tossed the whole thing in butter, olive oil s&p, tumeric and hot sauce. Really good, have left overs. Topped it all off with a couple of homemade cookies outta the freezer. Mmmm.

Now to get back to painting. I wish I could paint better. I really do.

I have a lot to do, getting ready for the Starving Artist Gala. I love their mission statement.

Monday, November 23, 2015

The Cold Weather, Ghosting, Helen Mirren's Sound Advice

Argh the snow. I dont like winter and it is still fall. Uck. I am sneezing and dont want to go out there. I dont like being cold. Today when I went out to feed the birds I noticed a sunflower that grew from the bird food was bent over, like an animal knocked it over, I tried to take it, but the stem was gooey-ish, so I went in and got the scissors. I took in every sunflower that was wilty like that. They are in a jar across from my bed. None of them have bloomed and I am so wanting to paint them.

From a clip about ghosting and how it is a new social more. I do not approve.
Parna is back on my knees, she was off the bed for hours while I sat here rolling around the internet and knitting. She wants to get at those flowers. She is purring so sweetly between my thighs and knees, her head toward my feet. I love having her in my life.

I came across a thing where this professor was talking about "ghosting", how young kids are doing it, the first boys and girls likeing each other and "getting nothing" as a response to texts, the new creepy way relationships are going. It reminded me of Gituku. My anger welled up, what a dick. I wrote him an email I sent to myself instead, he does not deserve my mail. I feel like telling him nothing in his life will work out because he has been a douchebag to me. His love life will suck, his health will suck because of the way he has been so shitty to me. Here is what I wrote under this picture I sent him, "But not me, I will not get used to it. Oh and fuck you. Yeah fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and fuck you. Actually fuck off is better, okay yeah, fuck off.

Yeah he does not even deserve this crap note here. I have done so little today it annoys me. I am used to getting things done, working until I am ready to call it a day, make something to eat and go to bed to roll around the internet or read. I dont read like I used to. God I am on this computer so much it is a bit sickening.

I did write a cover letter to send to a company that is opening a restaurant close by. I would love to never waitress again but I need the money, I need to stop worrying so much. Will I get hired, or do I look too awful to be a server. Awful as in too old? I dont want the job because I want to be a painter. I want the job to see if I can get it but mostly so I can pay my bills.

In Bed Sick

Parna sitting so funny and cute in the sun
In bed with Parna on my knees licking her paw and then rubbing her face. The only sound is me tapping away and the portable heater clicking on and off. I am sneezing and sick, poor me. I guess it is a cold, stuffed nose and feel drab and down a bit.

Daisy came to visit and cheered me up. I got a hand written letter from my old friend, Gord.  I have known him a long time but he is also chronologically old. Older than my father. We were good friends while I lived in Manhattan, he came to dine alone where I worked and that is how we became friends. He did eventually ask me to marry him way back then. I told him no, of course, I have no interest in him that way. I couldnt read his writing in this letter, and planned on not killing myself trying. When Daisy showed up, I showed her as a laugh, to show her how garbled it was. I have always had a hard time reading his hand writing and now it was even more difficult. Daisy started reading it. She could make it out, which astonished me.

Gord apologized for not writing sooner and let me know he sent me a letter in July asking me to marry him, but I must have not got it because I didnt reply or comment. No, I didnt get it.

The neighbor cat is semi-feral. I set this kennel up for her to stay warm and rest
Oh dear. He is an acute care facility, he is out of his small apartment, where he had moved to years ago in Connecticut. He has no cell service or internet, so I have been sending him greeting cards that I had made out of my photo's and painting images with quotes inside. His daughter wrote me to say he is deluded and having a hard time, being mean and confused about things.

I cooked some potatoes and now took one and added some frozen chicken broth and will eat that. I dont much feel like chopping anything. I need to eat more leafy greens but I dont want to. Why is it that all the tasty easy things are bad for you, like bread. I love bread. Well, I decided to chop up a carrot, a piece of celery, put pants on and went out to the garden to get some arugula, sage and parsley that is still green and not frozen. I have some turkey kielbasa I got at the butcher and chopped up some of that. I added fresh garlic, turmeric, 3/4 of a fresh lime, pink salt, freshly ground black pepper, some Thai fish sauce (made with anchovies, supposed to be good for you, tastes cool) I took a couple of small pieces  of a nice cheese bread out of the freezer and toasted them under the broiler, buttered them. I got the bread from one of the women at my Paint Night and now I have a delicious nutritious dinner. My cat has gone into he basement where she wo
nt be disturbed but I wish she was here with me instead.

I started this post on Sunday, I am going to finish it now:

Early Sunday morning. I woke up covered in sweat. I hadnt had a shower for a couple of days, the sheets were a week old. I went back to sleep but couldnt really stay asleep so I jumped up and had a shower and am doing the laundry, my sheets and blankets. Time to get ready for my show on Dec 6.

Get new paintings up and take the ones that I showed last year down. I am curious how this show will go. It will be different people. One little group that came last year was people I worked with putting up Christmas decorations. I didnt do the Christmas decorations this year, I wasnt invited back and I am not sure why.

Maybe it is because the woman who runs it is a bit of a bitch for sure, at least to me. She is a bit of a twat. Last year I didnt want to do it either but her cousin had the schedule all done and I relented. I didnt want to do it because the woman who owns the business is a bitch-to me and I decided I dindt want to work with jerk offs.

But I did. She was a jerk to me and I snapped at her one day, "Why is it that pretty much everything that comes out of your mouth to me is mean and snappy?" She acted all "Moi?"

I thought we kind of went over a hurdle. We both shed a few tears. She told me all about her ailments, and she has many. I softened toward her, I felt warmth for her and the struggles she was facing. maybe she heard me tell someone "I didnt want to do this this year, I said no, but Lolita had scheduled me and persisted. She would walk around and around and when she came upon us and we were chatting she would lose her mind with a flinch we would all hush. Her main right hand Mia would hush us. She was the most expert about dealing with Nataja. Mia told me more than once that she never wanted to do this ever again, her shoulders were slumped, her head slightly back, her mouth down and dragging, like we all felt. The fumes of the fake shit riddling into your organs, laying glitter dust to process back out of my body some way, if possible, one hopes.

I came with scarves to cover my mouth and nose, and gloves--we all used gloves but no one else covered their face. I took it off though because it is hard to breathe with it on.

Or maybe it is because when Gituku and I went downtown to pick up our cheques--she knew we were coming but she went out and didnt answer her phone. Gituku was pissed. Then it happened again, yup, we set up to go downtown and get our cheques and she wasnt there again, didnt pick up her phone again. Then the plan was she would come here.

She was going on about how she makes enough money on the job to cover her bills for the year, "How about a raise" I said. I asked Mia before if she got a raise and she said she was a lemming, which meant she was too scared to ask.

I was not invited back, and I bet they get a raise, what a bitch. I like to come here and say so. What a bitch.

Maybe I did something? I dont know. I hate that job. Nataja bought a small painting at my show last year, and I wish I had it back. I dont want it in her house.

I dont know who will come this year. I dont know if I will sell anything this year.

I wonder how the Starving Artist sale will go.

I am in bed wishing for some nice thing. I know I sound like a bitter bitch. I dont feel like apologizing either.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Sometimes Jazz Music Makes the Mood Just Right

One of those days. Over the past week and a half, I researched the mural. Spent hours on it. I read a million threads, watched youtubes, went to the library and took out some books, made sketches, did a couple  small painting sketches, did more pencil sketches, bought canvas board, did more serious painting sketches, I even bought one of the colors I would need because I could get it at half price. I could take it back though so that is good. I called around priced it all, typed out a quote, printed it, and brought the canvas board and the quote in today.

The first thing he said was off-putting, and I immediately wished I hadnt bothered following through with all the work I did. He said they would just put more graffiti on it. He asked me to do because of the graffiti, and the first thing he says as a way to say he doesnt want it is that they will do graffiti on it.

I am my own worst business partner. I presented it like it was no big deal. I said the paintings I handed them were rough sketches and the finished piece would be more detailed and polished. As though the one I handed them was junk. I spent a fair amount of time on them anyway, why do I abandon myself like this?

I had a hard time putting a price on it and in the end decided on 800 for everything, the research, preliminary sketches, shopping the supplies, gessoing, edge protection, painting and varnishing it.

I originally had one 200 bucks more because it is far more detailed with a mother and baby cow, a red barn in the distance, moutains, lots of flowers in the front. I decided to leave them the same price.

I hadnt expected what happened to happen. I didnt take pictures of my paint sketches.

He said opening the envelope "Is this going to kill me, the price?"  Really?

I told him it was a good price.  So the wife loved the paintings, he said he did too. "Can we keep them?" "Can you cut it in half" so the two paintings were separate. "Can you sign it?" The husband said he would cut them in half.

I was all like "No big deal" which is a lie.  He said he would give me something for the work I did. "You can give me some chicken"  See? Me shooting myself in the foot. She laughed and repeated what I said like it was ridiculous, which it was. What should I have said?

I trotted around the store getting some stuff. I have credit already for a painting they paid off for one of their staff. I had chicken I had taken out of the freezer and a steak and a piece of fish in the freezer still. I got an organic chicken leg, some turkey kielbasa, and some frozen wings. I threw the chicken and wings in the freezer. She told me she would add something to the credit, "What shall I add?"

"I am terrible at this" What? Geez, no help from myself here. What should I have said?

"Forty bucks?" Really, argh

"Yeah that is fine." What should I have said?

"Tell me if it should be more" It isnt obvious?

"That is fine."  No it isnt. I cannot blame them. I blame myself. I am not sure how to fix this.

Her, her daughter possibly, and the woman who bought a painting from me last year, and paid installments until her boss rewarded her with the rest of it as a gift for her ten year anniversary working with them, are coming to my Paint Night tomorrow. As well as Gituku's mom, the woman that introduced Gituku to Abaddon. (f@ck them). She is bringing two other women I dont know.

I am nervous. The one on Tuesday ddint happen but I picked up one on Wednesday next week.

I am in an upcoming show, The Starving Artist Gala, more about that another time.

I have some rice, broccoli, mushroom, onion, garlic and chicken to eat. Super tired, super long day, so much work.

Aside from finishing the quote and sketch paintings, I vaccummed, washed the floors, cleaned out the fridge put away loads of laundry, washed the mats, did so many dishes. I had to throw out stuff fromt he fridge I never got around to using, black sesame seeds, white ones and all sorts of things like that. I made a liner on one of the shelves out of gorilla tape, duct tape and parchment paper so the butter and things dont go flying out. It is an old and used fridge with shelves missing. Gituku got it for me for free when my other fridge broke.

This jazz music is making me feel good.

A guy on pof is set on meeting me. I am really busy. I dont really want to. He told me to stop what I was doing and go do stand-up. Then I would be in movies with Melissa Mc Carthy and Kristen Wiig. Right, how fun? Gosh I kind of believed him when he said that, but I am not that funny. I am but not as bright, I dunno, I wish I was, that would be so fun.

I am glad to be in bed now, super tired, just had a hot shower, washed my hair and now it is time to chill. Long long day. I am glad I got so much done.

I will get  a picture of the paint sketches when I sign them, and pictures of the Paint Night too.

Someone in the States reads my posts, I think anyway. If so, I wonder who? I am small time, get very few views, which I admit I like, and one person, I think because the browser is the same, from the USA views my blog. I wonder who.

Dang my dinner was good. I have some tea to drink and feel so very tired. The music is lovely Stan Getz, The Peacocks, wow.

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

First Paint Nite Tonight, Eaves Trough Reattached--Life Feels Better

Tuesday morning of my first Paint Night. Sunny outside and feeling good about it. Guess I will go feed the birds and clean up my house a bit. I am hoping I might have some time to paint. My new show is Dec 6, coming up very fast and my paintings are not done.

The landlord showed up with a guy and put the eaves trough back up. He also reattached the one in the back. These guys. He threw the stuff from the eaves trough down, not caring where it landed. "He please be careful you dont put a hole in this plasic all over the back of the house, an attempt to keep the water out of my basement.

"I am. I wont"

"Yeah but you already did dude." Pausing to look at the new rip in the plastic from some piece of cement or something he threw down. "Fuck" Now I was swearing.

I could have been nicer but it pissed me off, the way he was tossing all this crap out for the maid to clean up. I hate workers like this. I know, where was he supposed to throw it? I dont know but the guy said he was a roofer for 23 years. He wasnt afraid of heights.

"I am sorry, you can probably tape it up" He was right but I was still mad.

"Yeah you are right, it was such a lot of work doing this" I couldnt be Sunny Suzanna.  later I was upset with myself for swearing in front of him. I dont know him. Whatever. I spent time cleaning up all the mess and rearranging the dang plastic and then took a shower.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Georgia O'Keefe Birthday, New Coffee Cup Because My Upstairs Neighbor is a Major A-Hole

My upstairs f@cking a-hole neighbor ruined another day for me. I dont think I could hate him anymore than I do. No, I dont want to write about the turd. I dont want him on my mind or anywhere near my life but there he is bashing with all his might back and forth on the floor because he is cold? WTF? It is positively  gorgeous out and he is whining with a temper tantrum at full decibel to turn on the heat. The heat is on you f@cking first class jerk off. It doesnt click on because it is too warm.

I had to beat it out of here. I lanned to apint but I simply could not with his awfullness. I cooked instead. I made some soup, I did the dishes and then I snuck out the side door. Lucky me, I didnt realize I had the key for it. UM, yeah, I have been living here ten years and didnt know I had the key all along.  I wanted to go for a walk and decided, "I will buy a coffee cup" I broke one a couple of weeks ago so I will head over to HomeSense and buy one on sale. Which I did for three bucks. I only have two coffee cups that I use so when I broke the one, uh-oh. Now I have this one too. I have smaller ones but I rarely use them. I drink tea out of separate cups. I went down into the pet store and bought Parna some food. I loved seeing all the dogs in there, they cheer me right up.

Happy Birthday Georgia O'Keefe. Nice Painting. I am working on a sunflower too. Hope it turns out a bit nice like this 

The furnace turns on and I can wmell that f@ckwits cigarettes. I f@cking hate that guy, wish him the worst, hope he dies. Yeah, I do.

Friday, November 13, 2015

Renderings For A Farm Scene, Dating Profile

Blustery day, warm fat cat on my lap as I sit in the front window of my apartment and paint little mock-ups for a commission I got to do a farm scene. The format is very narrow but I am excited to amke it work. I need to go to the dollar store and get some canvas boards to do the samples, they will be truer to how the final one will turn out. I am using gouache, which does not allow for layering, it works more like watercolor.

I took Daisy's advice and put my dating profile back up. Ucky men out there, so many ucky men. One guy has a picture of himself at the bar wearing nothing but giant swimming shorts with his leg up on the rail. It is taken from a distance so his face is blurry. The other two pictures are of some strange alcohol based paraphernalia. He sent me a message and I bothered to send him back the "you seem nice but I do not feel we are a match" email and he sent me back a scalding rebuke how if he was a boy in the sandbox, well here let me show you. Remember this is fiction before anyone gets their panties in a knot. I am doing this because my cat is on my lap and I cannot get up. Well, I ccan of course but I do not want to move her.

 The guy with the ugly shorts profile:
11/12/2015 1:21:19 PM

Interesting profile, care to peruse mine and let me know if there may be a meeting between us....

Ugh the way he writes that, simply ugh.

 Me: why am I responding?
11/12/2015 9:48:21 PM
Thanks for the note. You seem like a warm and interesting guy but I do not feel we are a match. I wish lots of happy success in your search.

Yours truly,
Sweet As Pie okay sometimes I am sweet as pie other times not so much.

 The guy with the ugly shorts profile:11/13/2015 7:31:10 AM

Dear Sweet As Pie,

Thank you yet I do find it interesting how One can make a decisive decision upon only reading a few verses about someone without speaking and hearing the person's voice and feeling their ENERGIES.....then I believe One can truly decide......for instance I really cannot make a decision from what I have read in your profile yet I have reached out in order to gain more information about you yet that will not be taking place as you have decided to shut it down....I respect your decision yet again it leaves me pondering how One can make those final decisions to seek friendship......for example if you remember back to being a small girl playing in the sand and another boy you have never seen before approaches you with a pail and small shovel and asks you...."wanna play" and you stand up and walk would One feel??
Just a memory to consider when you are seeking someone ( lake playing in the sandbox) and someone comes near and reaches out to you and you leave ( negativity being relayed) Think before you speak and write because once it is released there is NO getting it back!!!!

 11/13/2015 9:51:57 AM
I am not looking for friendship. Your picture choices are not good. Cant see your face, only one of you and you are half naked. You are saddled up to a bar and the other two pictures are of strange alcohol related paraphanalia, not judging--deducing. Then you sent me a guilt ridden email, long and difficult to read, meant to make me feel bad for my gut feelings. Yeah, I stand by my words, we are no match. Good luck. I have been around for a thousand years, I am done with "giving people a chance" unless I feel something, that is it, not interested. Like I said I am not here looking for male friends. I have no regrets so I dont need to get it back, as you say. My opinion: Put a shirt on, show your face, get rid of the alcohol crap. and if a woman is not interested, and you want to pursue her, do something to woo her, do not talk down to her and try to make her feel bad. Women my age can see right through that tactic. And if they cant I feel sorry for them because you will try and manipulate them.

Yeah so like that. God what a f@ckin turd.

Dating sites blow. I do know some people who met on these sites.

"Edjo why are you doing this when you know I love you the way I do?"

"You are gone, not sure if you are ever coming back. Maybe I am a show off, I look nice--for my age"

"You wont meet anyone. You know that, I know that."

"I know, it is a distraction and sometimes I need that"

Gull wraps Edjo up from a distance in a warm balloon of soft love. Edjo sighs and stress leaves her body. How does he do that? I am glad he can though.

Yesterday Edjo cried and cried so hard. The animal pictures, showing abuse got inside her soul and she was locked down unable to move, with the grief and all the intense emotions she felt. She couldnt stop crying, couldnt stop crying, couldnt stop sobbing, praying to God "Help these animals mightily".

How anyone could kick a cat like a soccer ball, tearing their poor wee faces away, hurting them so badly and the jerk offs tying up dogs way up high and then twisting the rope so they swing out of control. I would take a rifle and blow their f@cking faces off.

Parna jumps off Edjo. Time to get on hr bike on this blustery day and go get some supplies, go to the library, re-new her card, get some farm books out for references and get some work done.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The Starving Artist Gala, Dating Profile Here and Gone, The Bike Ride Along Lake Ontario, and the Humber River with My Sister

On my way to start my day. I feel a bit choked up so I will side step here and jot something down. Like putting a blanket around my shoulders when I am cold. MY cat jumped into my lap warming up my thighs. Well, that lasted a minute, not comfortable enough for her.

I have an invitation to show at some place they call The Ballroom. It is not a ballroom at all though, I think. It is on Church Street. My niece sent me the link via facebook. It is called the DEC 18 Starving Artist Holiday Gala @ The Ballroom

Are you a Visual Artist & would like to display your work professionally?
Interested in making extra money, during the Holiday Season?
Would you like to network with Industry professionals?

If you answered YES to any of these questions, come join this exciting opportunity to showcase your talent. You may contact us in the following ways; Write to of your interest. You’re welcome to submit your work at 69 Queen Street East by December 1st 2015 (no later than 4:00 PM). Please provide your full contact; Your Full Name, the Title of you Art and its Price. A short description of your Art-piece and the material used to make the art, would also be beneficial.

I contacted them and they sent an email back saying I needed to be struggling with housing, addiction, mental health. I wrote them back and said I was struggling with this stuff and went inot some detail, to which they wrote back basically too much information but basically yeah, I qualify. No signature. They also told me my work was beautiful, which is always lovely to hear. More email exchanges and still no signature, or introduction as to who I was speaking with. I finally asked and got a name. They told me, he told me, they would like some bigger pieces. I asked who was attending, who are the industry professionals, who would be hanging the show and where would the work be between the 1st and the 18th, the night of the show? He sent me a number to talk to someone else.

You can tell they are used to talking a bit down to people, or that the people they talk to are not altogether home--no pun intended. He told me to photograph my work before I brought it. He told me to call this particular number to ask my pertinent questions and then immediately sent another email back saying not to call now, it was like 10pm but during office hours. Even not signing a name kinda felt like that. I am not sure what this place is. It is a drop-in centre which sounds cool. I like the idea of showing in a venue like this because it is close to the bone of where I am and have been in my life.

I called my godmother yesterday. Her husband died a few years ago. They were in this lovely little elf home in a "village" for older folks, well you can move in when you are 55. You give them a bunch of money and you lease the place until the end of your life. In a case like my godmother, you get moved into the building where they feed you and take care of you. My aunt can barely walk now.

She is in Hamilton and she panics in the winter, she doesnt want her children driving to see her, it is an hour each way and dangerous in the bad weather. Her daughter died last year and it is so sad, she used to visit her very often. Having cancer made it that she had the time to go visit but then she passed away and my godmother misses her terribly. Her remaining sons are trying to get her closer by and I told her if she came closer I would visit her. I dont drive, have no car so...

She suddenly understands me much more "I am all alone in a room and you are all alone in a room." Yeah, kind of the same. I told her how hard it was for me to get used to being really alone, "I have been single most of my adult life and at times it was so scary, so scary, really hard but now after all this time, I am used to it and I would even say prefer it. Sure if I met someone who did the things within me that would need to happen for me to want to open up again.

Having early childhood trauma kind of ruined me for relationships in many ways. Sure I have worked on it and I bet I am ready-ish for another meaningful relationship but everyday I do not meet someone special is fine by me.

I did put up an online profile recently:

I had the profile up for a couple of weeks but took it down. I was overwhelmed with emails and would modify my profile to attempt to curtail the unnecessary ones. No young boys, no blue eyes, no smokers. I didnt like the men I saw. I simply didnt like it so I took it down.

I am off to buy some soup bones. I need them. I have some spots on my teeth and bone broth is meant to be brilliant for that.

The rain is coming and hoping the rigmarole in the backyard will withstand water and keep it out of my home. I got the plywood under the plastic sheeting. I had just had a shower and then got covered in dirt.

The day before yesterday I took myself on a bike ride along the lake. I went as far as the bike trail goes.

 There are these kind of dumpy buildings near the end of my ride and I felt like I point to them one by one and go, Gone, gone, gone, gone prime real estate and they are right on the lake. Wow how nice for lower income folks. Behind them are the typical ugly monstrosities. "Lower 300's" Yuck. Oh it would be so lovely to be right on the lake with a view, wow.

Daisy took me to the river yesterday, so nice to see the Humber where we used to take the dogs. Between us we had three and then her daughter has one so sometimes it was four dogs playing in the water, loving nature. Now it was the two of us. There was a small film crew there. A few folks walking the trail but pretty quiet and very pretty.

 Getting out and breathing fresh air helps to put things in
perspective and clear out some of the cobwebs. It is so easy to be stressed about all these things, money, health, relationships and who knows. I was happy to spend a bit of time with my sister and see the Fall colors. I spent the rest of the day painting unitl about 11pm when my cat was like "Enough already go to bed so I can lie on you for a little while." I am working on a painting of her I started last year from life. Now I am working from a little picture on my laptop and dreaming of when I can afford to print things out and have a decent studio. Maybe that day will not ever arrive, it sure feels like after all these decades of sheer struggle. I love to paint though and hope to paint some more today.

"I'll do a Burt Reynolds pose"

Sunday, November 8, 2015

The Broken Eavestrough

Painting for Ann of Horses

Horses for Ann Oil on Canvas 16x20"
Thank you to my friend Ann who bought a couple of paintings from me over the years. I made her this one, based on a woodn horse her usband carved. I added in some brass horses I bought at a cool store across for the Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan, which is long, long gone. Even the hotel is now condo-ized.

This is a CD rack another friend gave me as she down-sized. I use it for shows but when not in use for that I have it on the porch to distract all the rotten wood and falling eavestroughs. These little pumpkins so festive.

Fix this House You Crap Landlord

This poor old house, I cant stand it. Again spending way too much time on it, putting band-aids all over the place. Dean came over to look at the job I did "All you can do" he said.

"Yeah but see here, how it slopes, snow will come and tear it down from the weight."

"You are right, I can give you some plywood to put under"

"You mean like two by fours? To like put maybe three sloping down?"

"No like plywood. Plywood sheets."

"Oh wow, that is great, that will be great."

"Not now, I am hurting physically, my knees are shot and everything hurts."

"Yeah I get that."

I walked him out to the car and Daisy was there. We hashed through enough to move on. She cashed in her piggy bank and gave me the money, which was far more than we thought it would be. It was really generous and kind of her--over the top. I am glad we aired out enough stuff to mend our black and broken relationship, it feels so much better now. I have known her since she was born. I have taken care of her most of her childhood and more than anything I missed her. I feel we were able to re-connect and I am so glad. I am lucky to have a sister, not everyone does. I am lucky to have her close by physically, we live so close. I am glad she is writing FINALLY and want the best for her.

I called my landlord and asked him if he was going to fix the front, the eavestrough hanging off, the raccoons living in there. I got a quote, over 700,  and he said,  "No! I will get my own people" That was the week before last and nothing. So I called him and said neighbors were complaining.

People tell me to report him. I tell them it is dangerous as he threatens to sell and then where will I be?

I scream to God to the Universe, "I want a closet! I dont want to live like this anymore. I dont want that toad living above me" I cry, I whimper and I despair. I do my best to keep this old girl of a house afloat, me too.
Looks like crap and eats up the space with ugly
Tore up the garden to try and create a trench for the water to go

Trimmed the cedar which made me sad, I love the cedars
Taped--yes taped around the cedar

Dreams and Sunflowers Shine on Pain

Dreams can feel exhausting. It was a longish dream, lots of anxiety. I went upstairs to the creep upstairs apt to see where the kitty litter was because in real life I awoke in the night to the smell of cat shit coming through the vents. Last year he put the litter right by the vent, it was torture. He was up there, in my dream and I didnt want to see him, true in real life as well. Some man was there, turned out to be yet another "new owner". He was mixed race, from Russia and kind of dapper, not that old. There was a woman living up there with a kid as well. She was Mexican-ish and very sweet. She was standing at a strange sink doing dishes in spent dishwater. I was shocked at the disrepair. A kitchen table had plastic sheeting coming down from the cupboards and draping over it with all the food on it. The ceiling on the other side of the kitchen was falling down and the floor was rotting away. I didnt get to see where the kitty litter was. The woman was lovley and she made me feel better by being around her.
My brother's high school picture in the background

Then  I was riding my bike and noticed a great green sculpture I had to climb. Turned out it was a giant sculpture of a tooth and I nearly fell off it more than once. I was grasping tiny indents to try and hold on. Below was traffic. The color fo the giant tooth sculpture was compelling and beautiful. Dark green flecked with shiny bits here and there. I was speaking on the phone with Daisy, advising her, as I have done countless times in real life, to take this opportunity and write. She makes 450 a week on EI and why would she consider anything else other than shutting the door to "job hunting" and all that and simply get on with it and write. Something came up about hte internet and I told her I would say anything there, I didnt trust the internet, the creeps spying and all the creepy time wasting shit they do.

I got back on my bike and rode down the street seeing many things from the upstairs apartment out on the street, all lined up along the sidewalk stretching out for a block, crappy things, black plastic furniture, meant to look leather, odd strange bits of used up items.

I rode to the next block and noticed I was in my horrible granny pants and an undershirt, both yellow, grey, dirty with age. Had I been going around like this all day? I had Gituku's fathers coat in my bike basket, Oh this is what I was wearing to cover up my underpants and vest. I was in the rain, trying to buy some papers at a Mexican restaurant in Gituku's fathers coat. The rain was like brownish sludge, more like mushy snow off the street, dirty and clinging to the shoulders on the coat. I turned around to go back, I didnt want to ruin the coat and basically wearing nothing under it. Then I turned back around, I was almost there, had come this far. I found the taqueria and went in. A woman was in the bathroom and came out. It appeared she had bulimia and that she worked there. I was grossed out and judgmental. The owners standing at the counter were not. She Had a gold criss cross weave on her nose to hide how much she had picked at her pores, which reminded me of myself. She was lovely to them. She was a wreck, but very sweet and I liked her. I woke up, it was cold. I had turned the heat way down so I would be bombarded by the smells. I turned he heat up.
 squirrels likely knocked this down-I brought it in to save and paint it

I called Gituku last week and left him a message to go fuck himself. It felt good to say it to him. Kind of like like going shopping in the store where the items are him ignoring me and all of that and my payment was a fuck you. It was like an exchange. He handed me his weird-liar-mean-cold-neglect and I handed him a fuck you. But I had left the store ages ago and forgot to "pay".

Then I found out it is not his father who died. His father is some Italian man, oh no wonder his favorite time in life was studying art history in Florence, of course he loves Italy. He is part Italian? I dont see it. So I called back and said I take back the mean fuck you I left him about 75% but yeah, still, fuck you, fuck off and fuck you.

In spite of all of it, I look for his car, I check my emails to see if he wrote. His sister said he wasnt worth it and I tell myself that but I bet he misses me, of course he does, so why so douchey?

Installments, Cash, Trade for Paintings

Last year I sold this painting to a wonderful woman, named Trish, who came to my Christmas show. She paid installments, which is always nice to get a bit of dough. It was the most expensive and biggest painting I sold at that show. It means a lot that she bought it as she works at a butcher, making tasty soups and all sorts of things she does there. Her boss, who was at my show as well, selling her wonderful bottled sauces Cucina Mirella, told me she would top up the difference of the painting, so she could give it to her at her ten year anniversary party of working for them at Butcher By Nature, this past Saturday. I will get trade which is great. Being as broke as I have been I havent been able to shop there for quite some time. Now I can have a couple of hundred dollars worth of protein etc and I am happy about that. Works out better for them too. Two hundred bucks in their store is not 200 bucks in cash or wholesale. I dont mind, Mirella is lovely, and has been kind and generous, not only to me, but to everyone she meets. If I prefer cash Mirella would give me cash, her heart is golden.

Trish gets her painting and we both have some tears 

Breaks the Silence, Oil on canvas 24x36"

This painting is about desiring love and the kind of love that is strong enough to last forever--if there is such a thing and someone like me could attain that. The hieroglyphs are "One, only" and "To love"

There is some type from a Blue note poster, I think it was of Bill Withers "Lean On Me" song--such a great song and the writing is from my own journal that I typed on a friends computer back in the day when I didnt have one.
Underneath it says "the silence" which is from the Vanity Fair aritcle about Prince, he was on the cover sometime in the 90's and "Insatiable" is a word he had cufflinks made out of and I typeset the word in a nice 60's font. There is more writing scratched into wet paint.

Whats up Russia?

Can I help you Russia? Looking for something? What are you up to? I dont trust you, not Russia itself, I think I would love that country but this creepy stuff, nuh uh. What is this? Go away, thanks.
This is today, Many days are full of Russia popping by

This is Russia, curious as to what this is about, does not feel good.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Baby Boy Hat

My aunt loved to knit for charity. She made all sorts of baby things. I was lucky to inherit her knitting things. I have some bby clothes that only need to be sewn together. The little sweaters that are not finished I do not feel I will be able to finish. The patterns are not there and my aunt also had a way of knitting that I do not know how to do. Her stockinette stitch came up kind of twisted. My sister did that stitch too when she knit back in the day. She made me a black washable wool sweater that I could not have loved more. I wore it all the time. I wore it for decades. I finally gave it to her to enjoy. I love that sweater with the twisted stitch. It is pretty much a perfect basic pullover sweater. It was large and covered my ass, the sleeves were long and kept me warm. I wore it thousands and thousands of times and loved it dearly every moment I owned it. I took good care of it and it is still in pretty good shape. The wool gets weaker as it ages, especially with the amount I wore it.

A friend, a sweet person who used to give me a ride once in awhile to the now defunct OSEB program we were together in. He was doing web design and then moved on go back to gardening. He started his own company Gardenzilla which if you see his website that he designed and did, is sweet and simple.

I have a hard time with my website because each move I need to make is a mystery to me, I have a super duper hard time with it and it gets neglected for that reason. I dont know how to do it, it doesnt come easily to me and I basically do not like spenidng what feels like useless hours trying to figure it out.

I took one of the hats my aunt started and I finished it. Then I embroidered a tree onto it, since his poppa is a gardener. I sent it in the mail last week, ten bucks, too much money for me right now but I am happy they will get it for their new son. He got married and had a child since our program we did together. His new wife is pretty and they have been together a long time. I am happy for a sweet family like theirs.

My aunt knit this--I finished it and put the tree on it.

Times like this I am pretty happy virtually no one reads my posts so I am assured he wont see this before he gets it in the mail.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Drunk on Expensive Wine and Cognac

Here I am drunk and loving it. I love the tingly feeling, I love the "on top of the world" feeling. I love the drunk feeling, I love it.

Ann took me out for dinner to a place close by. Really nice food. She bought a Valpolicello Ripasso wow so good then we spit two amazing cognacs. I  could have started with a cocktail but I am a light weight. What fun. She loved the painting I did her. The food was so nice. I felt like a movie star.