Front Porch Revisited

I have not been able to enjoy my front porch for a long time. I had too many wonderful memories of sharing time out there with great company. But, it was a shame to lose the part of the house I once loved most.

So, I finally found a way to enjoy it my own way, in peaceful solitude, without ghosts.

I now sit on the ROOF of the porch, instead of the porch itself. I like it up there. :)

The view:
ahead and left

down and right

straight left
Up

Is this MY house?

Well, it's still FAR from clean, but I found a couple interesting things....
Under all the filth and dirty dishes, there was an actuall COUNTERtop in my kitchen!
then, after sorting through about 5 months worth of old mail, and throwing out 3 big garbage bags full of junk, I discovered there was a futon and a FLOOR in the office/studio. Who'da thunk it? Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are.

RedDanceBlue

The latest thing I painted. It's still wet, and I took the pic with my phone, but I'll take a better one when it's dry.

Sorry I haven't written much lately, folks. I've been very busy. Sometimes I post on myspace as The Smoking Tongue, but mainly I just have no time. Working at my wonderful new job, painting, etc.... not much time for blogging. I hope everyone is well, though. :)

What I wish I was made of...

(Smallest cage unit of diamond, which is purportedly the hardest substance known to man)

mmmm.... cheerful hamster. Yum!

 

Unexpected Sun

Swirls of winter grey
blur to a radiant gold-
a lush vibrant glow.

Over-achieving,
An anomalous sun smiles
its odd enthusiasm.

I do not entreat-
Don’t pray for more or longer,
But I simply bask.

The surprise of warmth,
from such daunting chill-blown skies,
Is too great a gift

In any increment.

Unexpected Sun

Swirls of winter grey
blur to a radiant gold-
a lush vibrant glow.

Over-achieving,
An anomalous sun smiles
its odd enthusiasm.

I do not entreat-
Don’t pray for more or longer,
But I simply bask.

The surprise of warmth,
from such daunting chill-blown skies,
Is too great a gift

In any increment.

music for one apartment and six drummers

Absofricking BRILLIANT!!!!!

Art Show Success!

Well, last night was the first night of the art show.
I displayed 5 pieces. 2 are now sold, 2 others have offers already. Someone suggested I start conducting art classes, and said she'd send her teenage son if I did. Someone gave me a reference to show at a well-known gallery in Louisville.
Yikes! I'm a total amatuer at this, and my paintings need a lot of improvement and work. Yet, people already dig my work!
Pretty darn cool. :)

So many things to do... things I should've already done over the past couple days. But, I'm in migraine mode at the moment.... shades drawn, lights out, monitor brightness turned way down, phone ringers off... plans I was looking forward to cancelled...
I guess I'm just stressed. Can't let stress get to me, though.
I'm taking some excedrin (out of my migraine prescription, and can't afford a refill right now), and am about to lay down for a bit. Hopefully, I'll wake up better and ready to get some stuff done.

No time to wallow

I did everything I could think of to help me get up in the mornings. I go to bed early. I set my very loud alarm across the room so I can't hit snooze in a sleepy haze, etc... But, I was so tired I slept right through it. It must have been going off for about an hour before it woke me up. When I realized what time it was, I had instant dry heaves from panic. I showered and got ready for work in about 10 minutes. Barely had time to get wet. Ran out the door and got in the car and called the office while on the way. I knew I'd likely be fired when I got there, but I had to try. Sure enough, I got fired. I can't blame them.

I'll be in the hospital one night and one day next week for sleep apnea/narcolepsy testing.

In some ways, maybe I'll be better off. I've never in my life worked with such difficult people. One of the ladies from the escrow department (sort of shares an office with the title plant where I worked) asked me just this morning how I could stand to work with them. She said it was like preschool over there and that people were getting mighty sick of the way they behaved. Still, I didn't really care all that much about that. I just wanted to do my job, and to do it well. And, as difficult as some of my coworkers may have been, I respected them as workers for what they did professionally.

I intend to start job hunting right away. I need to type up my resume today and start looking online for leads. Then, I need to spend the rest of the week going out and dropping off my resume at places. I'll probably lose my house anyway, but I need to keep going and get myself a new job.

Right now, however, I'm going to bed. My first impulse was to go drink myself silly somewhere, but that's unwise. I can't afford to do things the stupid way. So, I'll take a nap and will have to get up and get right back to working on salvaging my worthless life. No time to wallow.

Chad Vader - You have GOT to see it

This is just the first episode. There are more on Youtube.

Deserted Island Songs

You know the routine... you're stuck on a deserted island with just an ipod and maybe one or 3 other people (the ipod has endless battery).

Of course, since my answer to the "what three books would you take to a deserted island" includes "Desert Island Survival for Dummies", and "How To Get Rescued from a Desert Island, For Dummies", then I will set in place a rule that says "No... Songs chosen just because lyrics contain survival advice don't count, if any such songs do exist".

Sex Beat (both the originial The Gun Club version, and the awesome Alejandro Escavedo version, but not the slow Escavedo version [only the sucky slow one is available from v-cast, the jerks]).

Temptation, by Tom Waits (along with tons of songs from Mule, Franks Wild Years, and then there's the awesome older albums -oh, nevermind. Let's just say at LEAST 20% of the songs he's done.)

All the Love In The World and Closer by NIN

Condemnation and Little 15, by Depeche Mode

Chubb Subb, by MMW

London Calling, by the Clash

When the Lights Go Out, by The Black Keys

Paper Bag, by Fiona Apple

Sideways and Appetite, by Citizen Cope

Try A Little Tenderness and None of Us Are Free, by Solomon Burke

Delicate, The Blower's Daughter, and Cheers, from Damien Rice's album, "O".

Maleguena, by Carlos Montoya

Too many Nina Simone songs to list, but inluding Feeling Good

A couple R. L. Burnside tunes (but Bad Luck City is the only song name I can recall at the moment)

the classic Minnie The Moocher, by good'ol Cab

I have to give up on this list. There's just too many to think of.
Throw in a couple Lucero songs, some Greenday and System Of A Down, perhaps, as well as Mass in C Minor by Mozart, a few songs from my favorite musical, Chess, and a few songs by Bessie Smith and Billie Holiday. etc... etc... etc...
I haven't even touched on Vivaldi, Tool, And Parliament Funkadelic. You all know there'd have to be lots of funk.

Anyway... I'm going to nap, I think.
Later

White & Nerdy

My theme song. I nearly died from laughter over the bootleg tape. That thing IS impossible to get.

I just discovered that my home email is down. It may have to stay down till next payday, but you can post stuff in comments here if you like.

Rebirth

I know that I'm not likely to get my own art show until I build my gallery in the front room (especially since I'm not likely to get out there... meet gallery owners, etc... etc... I'm too much of a shut-in introvert) BUT...

I know what the name of the show will be.

Rebirth.

My first painting in 10 years was called Rebirth. It was named that because the subject was the spirit-cleansing pain-amnesty thing I experience when I enjoy a good shower. It's just me and the water in there... no past or future... no clothing to define or misdefine me... nothing but pure water... the most beautiful and simple of things.

So, the name comes not only from the painting, but from the rebirth of me that began with that painting. I've painted several things since then. I have 3 in progress right now. Before long, I could easily have enough for my own show, although I don't need a show for this body of work to have meaning. It's that I created it that matters, and it will always be a show of rebirth, whether it is seen or not.

Sometimes my depression keeps me from painting. But, when I can paint I am alive.

Planning what to wear for the company christmas party... making sure I have a long-sleeve dress for un-namable reasons;...

Making it to work each day, despite the weight of the mask that stumbles me...


So hard. it's all so fucking hard. But I'll keep on going.

I just do the best I can.

The Truth

I was ok at first. I was free from one pain, anyway.

Maybe you know. Maybe it's obvious.
But sometimes admitting helps recovery, right?

I'm in the midst of the worst depression I've ever known.

Just keeping my job is a huge struggle. Just getting up, brushing my teeth and getting dressed... it's a tremendous struggle. You have no idea.
No idea how hard I fight just to keep on going.

This isn't working.
I pray it will get better. I fight my own darkness constantly.
Surely it must get easier. Surely it will.

So, I hold on. Mainly for Tori, but I hold on.

Braided Nerd

 

Me before I chopped my hair off.

 

I've been watching this movie called Art School Confidential. I love it, for the most part. All the BS of the art world... so true.

I related to the main kid a LOT (in the beginning, at least). My style of drawing is very traditional, at least at first glance. I'm in love with the beauty of subtlety... the exquisite humanity of the overlooked... that's what I draw. Most people see a figure, drawn representationally, and never look beyond it. Never notice the subtle differences.

I felt some pressure, in college, to have a "style" that stood out. But, I love art too much to cling to gimics. I suppose my "style" happened on its own when I started to actually paint. I am SO fascinated by the strokes and pigments, that I love to let them show and not over-finish a painting, if that makes any sense. It isn't a style so much as a fact... you can see by looking at them that I just love spreading the paint on the canvas. The subject matter is inconsequential.

Is this my defining style, though? Who gives a f---. Maybe what I paint next year will be totally traditional and representational. Maybe not. Who cares? I do what I do out of pure love, though. If no one else ever gives it so much as a nod, so be it. I beleive in what I do because I love doing it. I paint what I want to see on the canvas. That's all that matters to me.

As for the movie... I hated the ending. The kid had a passion for art, and he chucked it in favor of notariety. But hey... they sure revealed the BS of the art world well. It was no exageration at all. 100% true.

tonight...

I cooked ahead for tomorrow.
For lunch, I'll have bits of steak with a tiny bit of diced persimmon (picked up a nice fresh one, sweet, not tart - very mild) covered in a bombay-style curry sauce (I cheated and used jarred sauce, this time) and saffron rice.
For dinner, I'll be having a cajun oyster et toufee (I can cook it, but not spell it) with asparagus. I made a side of spicy creole rice that I piled up with red bell pepper, sweet corn, and yams.

Some of that may sound a bit odd, but you'd be surprised at how good it is.
Maybe I'll make chili or meatloaf next time to balance my habits. :P

Gotta cook ahead to eat healthy.

I realized something about my own tendencies towards choosing avatars. I don't like pics that are too flattering. Just natural. I look sleep-deprived in the new one, but that fits. I'm worn out, these days.

G'night folks.

Cowboy Junkies-Misguided Angel

blink 182 - i miss you live on pepsi smash

Wet Paint

As much fun as watching paint dry.
I have no idea why I recorded this, other than this is who I am. This is what I do. I spread colors on canvas.
I paint therefore I am.

A Badge of Honor

I honestly try not to get paint on myself. But, when I finish painting and see the lush colors on my plain skin, I feel a little more alive. Some people can feel alive just with air in their lungs and blood in their veins. But, for me, it also requires Prussian Blue and Burnt Umber on my hands.
 

The Glass Cage

I think my favorites among my paintings are those that I slop together in two hours or less. This one took maybe 20 to 30 minutes. Expressive slop. I really like making fun, expressive, slop. I may end up tweaking a couple tiny shadows or something before I wash out my brushes. Dunno. But I'll probably just leave it as it is... an impulsive little burst of creativity. 

Just Josh'n

I went to Indy, this weekend, to visit Joshua. Would ya beleive it's been about 15 years since I've seen him? Wow. It was terrific to see him again. Just awesome. :D And, who would beleive, that the other third of the "JoshKatJosh" club (as I had titled a pic of us back in the day) lived just down the road! So, we went to visit JoshJ, and take a gander at his awesome art. I love the spooky monkey. He draws a terrific spooky monkey.
In addition to seeing too old buds, I made a new freind as well. His name is Max and (Sheba forgive me) is probably THE coolest cat I have ever met. He plays fetch, by the way.
I managed to only laugh coffee out my nose once, but there was much laughing. Much fun. :)

Rest in Pieces

As a dark joke on the mourning, when a loved one dies you are expected to pick a phrase or poem to put on those little pamphlet-like things that people take home from funerals. You might choose a bible verse, an uplifting poem, an old Irish blessing, or whatever. Me, however? I want mine to say "Does this coffin make my butt look big?".
That's what I want mine to say, and I'm NOT kidding. So, take notes family. So far I have two requirements, now, for my post-death plans. A) I want Nina Simone and Billie Holiday played during the visitation. B) I want my little flyer-thingies to say "Does this coffin make my butt look big?".

A friend of mine had a good one. He said his should say "I knew this would happen."
THAT would be perfect for your dry-witted pessimistic loved ones. I think that's genius. That just kills me (no pun intended).

How about you guys? Got any funny ideas for those weird funeral-flyers?

PS: I also want cans tied to one end of my coffin, beneath writing that says "Just kicked!", and maybe a bumper-sticker that says "Valhalla or bust". Also, a tap coming out of my coffin that dispenses beer would rock.

Damn.... if my family really does follow my wishes when I kick, then I'm gonna miss one hell of a party. I seriously hope they do, though. The tap would cost too much, but I hope they do the rest of that. :)

Feel free to have Karaoke, too. And be sure to dress me in go-go boots.

To Crazy and back (well... not quite back yet)

I mentioned, a month or so ago, that I wanted this phrase on a t-shirt. Joshua put this cute drawing with it and put it on a shirt at cafepress. Is it awesome or what?

okgo treadmills

I'm in love with this video. I want to go play on some treadmills, now!

Fiona Apple

She has so many great songs... I could fill my blog with them.

If people had the slightest idea of how much darkness slushes around in my head, they would all write me off as crazy and stay far, far away. (and they do)
However,
If people fully knew the extent and nature of that same darkness, they'd laud me as a tower of strength for walking around and breathing despite it.

Cat Ballou - The Ballad of Cat Ballou

I'm not wicked, I'm just drawn that way.
Actually, this is from a movie. Have you seen it?
I haven't seen it in years, but it's a great movie and I just love Lee Marvin.

This is my dad, back when he was yet a wee navy pup. I just think it's a cool pic.

The Best Borscht

I love Borscht. The broth is so rich and flavorful. Yum!
I usually make my borscht with beef, but this time I made the broth with a big bambi bone, and then added ground turkey to the finished soup. It still tastes very beefy, of course. I love that crazy ruby color. It's strange to eat soup that looks like rasperry juice, but it's good stuff. (also I painted my lips with the beet juice while chopping them, and acted like I'd been shot when my hands were all red with beet blood, but I just like clowning around with my neice.
Although I am an "eat your vegetables" kind of aunt, and I do inflict cruel and strange rules on them (like no Nintendog at the table in a restaurant), I do beleive adults should have fun with kids. And, Tori is a mighty fun kid. By the way, there was a large amount of meat on the deer bone I'd made the broth with, and I was going to seperate the bone and meat out so I could put the meat back in the soup, but I turned my back on the dog and... well... you can guess the rest. He left nothing but a tiny peice of bone, and licked every drop of the juice off the floor. Ick.

My day

Harry was being such a cuddly little baby this morning, that I didn't want to get out of bed. He kept rolling around and laying his head on me and being so cute. But, I eventually got up and started cleaning the house... The pets simply can't resist a clean and hair-free couch, so they declared a truce (they normally wont get very near eachother) in order to join forces and pepper the couch with fur. (the photo is dark, but I suppose you get the idea).
Then, Tori came over. We sat and talked quite a bit, chatting in the office, and then went to the coffee shop and the grocery. Then, I showed her the trumpet and asked if it was similar enough to the french horn (which she plays) for her to work.
She played some school band stuff, then I pulled up some Miles Davis on the computer to see how she'd adjust to jam with him. I was quite proud, considering her age and all.

Then, I had her show me how and I took a turn.

Why I love my father:

1) because he once parked at the side of the road, aiming a hairdryer at traffic. Yes, people slowed down.

2) during one of THE most stressful, awkward, and direly serious moments of my life, he sang a Dr. Dimento song with me and laughed.

3) He lives in a pole barn.

4) He isn't always right, but he always has some logic to his thinking.

I could list plenty more reasons, but those came to mind first.

While I'm on the topic of some of the people I love...
My sister is beautiful, and I'm blessed to know her.
Brandi is my hero.
Josh Powell is an angel, and I send him a huge hug.
Dave Siltz is the weirdest normal person I know, and I love him for it.
One of the greatest friends I've ever had, knows how to be always with me and give me tons of joy without even being in the room. (haven't seen him in almost 2 years, yet he is ALWAYS there for me)
My aunt Connie is one of the coolest people I never see.
George and Vic rock.
The Grey Ghost is a wonderful, impressive person, and is a special pocket of creativity in a rather uncreative land.
My neices are amazing, and I'd best sign off and clean the house before Tori gets here. :)

Hair cut of the week

I am still growing my hair out, but it needed some sort of shape during this tweener-stage, so I shaped it up just a bit, and added bangs. Most of it I left alone, though.
My hair is always changing these days. I like to have fun with it. I added some brown streaks a week or two ago. 

'Tater'misu

I'd have to say that the concept was a great success, though this particular experiment (test 1) was a failure. I've never cooked with tapioca before (especially what I rough-ground myself) so I underestimated it's moisture and time requirements in order to cook properly. You could just about crack a tooth on the crust. That's super-easy to adjust for, though. Plus, I think it needs more almonds anyway, so I may just make the crust entirely of almond meal and butter next time. I LOVE that almond meal - yum!

The rest of it was perfect. I've been scraping everything off of the crust and eating it. Mmmm... mascarpone cheese... such divine stuff. I even drizzled a touch of extra almond liqueour over this slice, but I think that was too much. The amount already in the desert had been just right. So anyway... the sweet potatoe pie has gone italian gourmet, kinda sorta, and I like it. I don't know what to call it, but it's pretty dern good. Oh, and by the way... I layed that tile all by myself. That's on the kitchen island we built. I started recording some "music" tonight, too. I was going to try and wing a few notes on the trumpet to add in to the mix, but apparently there is some sort of know-how involved, and the most I know about a trumpet is which end to blow in to. When I get the recording done, I'll share it with you. It'll probably just be odd noise, though, much like CoffeeBeerandCigarettes was.

Later, ya'll.

I'm drooling in anticipation... ovens are so slow!

I often am grabbed by sudden flashes of inspiration. Sometimes it’s a sculpture I don’t have the tools to make. Sometimes a painting I haven’t the skill to make. Sometimes it’s a song, a book, a dress, etc… Sometimes it’s food. After all, what can be more inspiring than food? J

Today I had a sudden craving for sweet potatoes. Then, that craving spiraled into a more complex craving… cinnamon, mascarpone cheese, almonds… (after all, inspiration is, in my opinion, little more than a complex craving or impulse).

So, I went to the grocery and rushed home to cook. Cooking was put on hold for the one person important enough to make me choose talking on the phone (which I hate) over food (which I love)… my neice called me. Tori always trumps food, even mascarpone cheese.

Anyway… I finally got to it. I made a crust from real butter, tapioca pearls that I roughly ground in the coffee grinder, and a bit of almond meal. Then I blended cooked sweet potatoes with Saigon cinnamon, fresh-ground nutmeg, more butter (can you tell I love butter?), and a bunch of clover honey. I spread that layer over the crust. Then, I blended mascarpone cheese with a healthy dose of almond liqoeur, a bit of cinnamon, and some Stevia liquid for sweetness. It looked so pretty, spreading in fluffy ripples from the mixer blades… ah, food. I love it.

Then, I carefully spread the mascarpone layer over the potato layer and drizzled it with more honey (which I hope will brown into a carmely-glazy top). I topped it with slivered almonds and popped it into the oven.

Cross your fingers and let’s hope it was a good idea. J I can’t wait to taste it.
Now I guess I’d better get to chopping beets. I’m making some venison borscht.

By the way, my apoligies to those of you I need to get in touch with. I can't email from work, and home is usually either a rush to cook and take care of the pets, or just time for crashing. I've been very tired, and was sick over the weekend. I hope everyone is well, though.

Madeleine Peyroux - I'm All Right

World's Tallest Geisha

The wig was beat to hell, already, by this point, and my make-up was awful, but it was still fun to wear my favorite kimono. My shoulders hurt for a couple days, though, just from tying that Nagoya obi. Those are rather difficult.
 

Vagabond

I have this canvas, see…
It’s a rather large canvas, so I would like it to end up being something worth while.
I’ve had some beautiful starts on it, the best being one I started when I was young (early 20's?)and full of life. However, all of my efforts on it turn from beauty to failure. I’ve tried to tell myself that it doesn’t matter… that the practice acquired through even my failed efforts is a payoff in and of itself, something to make me a better artist.

And so, I begin and begin again. Each time, though, it is harder. The ridges and gouges of past strokes show through, and the thick-caked history beneath threatens my efforts a little more each time. But, although the work I’m starting right now will be imperfe, with seemingly random past textures confusing my new strokes, I know that these hands of mine are capable of sweeping gestures that can conduct pigments into meaning. I know I can create something from this battered canvas.

My hands are special, because I can give my entire soul through them. The movements of my hands are more important than the contractions of my lungs, because it is through them that I breathe in the world, and give of myself.

If this canvas was meant to receive something from me, I can give it, no matter what chaos of mistakes may clutter the background. If this painting I am starting is what my soul was meant to be a part of, then it will turn out. If it doesn’t work out, I will cherish the process and the intimacy I am now sharing with the canvas. Painting is truly intimate to me. It is spiritual and carnal and pure. If I let my doubts prevent my painting, then my life would have little meaning.
By the way, I would like to send a huge thank you, again, to Josh and his friend, and to Lisa, for contributing to my art supplies. There’s no way I could afford them on my own. Air and water are free, but for me… paint is more crucial than both, and without the supplies given me, I would be damned to suffocation. Thank you. :)

guy- Escuse me, lunch lady... The food was edible, and all, but I have a complaint.
LL- It was cheap and it was food. Why split hairs?
guy- Well, mam, I'm not one to split hairs, normally, but... I don't normally eat them, either.
LL- Are you saying there was a hair in your food?
guy- Yes ma'am. A Harrier hair.
LL- What? A hair can't be hairy. It is simply a hair.
guy- No, not hairrier, but Harrier. The breed of dog. A sort of hound.
LL- I can assure you, sir. We do not employ Harrier's in this cafeteria, and all of our lunch ladies wear hair nets.

blah blah blah

Anyway... here's Harry (aka, Harrison T. Harrier), dressed as a lunch lady.

Preparing for this years costume...

I just want an excuse to wear my best kimono, of course, so I bought a cheap $14.00 wig and just styled it as geisha-like as I could. I used my vintage japanese kanzashi (hair sticks).
You'll see it on me whenever I get the whole costume together and on.

Rear view:

Side View:

Last year... a refresher

I was Kagero, from Ninja Scroll (an anime flick)

Florence Weather

Today is an "Italy day" outside. When I was in Italy, it was December, but warm for December. I didn't even wear a coat most of the time, just maybe a Firenze-bought cashmere scarf to keep the crisp breeze off my ears. We walked everywhere, which was part of the charm. Today, I walked the dog to a tiny corner store... the wind was crisp and chill, but the sun warm. The little shop was quaint and the staff friendly. I was even wearing my hat from Italy, since I didn't feel like messing with my hair. So, it brought memories back.

After losing my passport, being trapped for a day (foodless) in a french airport, and then flight trouble in the US on the way home, Brandi and I thought we'd never want to HEAR the word "travel" again. But, within a few weeks we were both surfing Florence sites online, finding B&B's and interesting places to stay. I wanted to go back and rent a room for a month, live and shop and cook and walk there. Of course, I haven't the money to go again, but it was a nice trip.

So, I love this sort of weather. It's rather sentimental for me.

Snippet of a Conversation...

... between TwistedNoggin (aka Kat) and her friend "hat girl".

Kat: (laughs awkwardly) "How come something like this always has to happen to me before we have a slumber party?"

HatGirl: (laughs also) "Yeah, I know. I've missed you. I knew 'strong Kat' had to be in there somewhere. I just didn't know where she went. She went on a little vacation."

Kat: "yeah, a vacation to crazy town. I need a shirt that says "I went all the way to Crazy town, and all I got was this stupid T-shirt".

___

Anyway... yes my life has been pretty crazy here lately, but it has been hard and stressful for a while. While the recent happenings seem awfully tragic to those who know me, it was a long time coming, unfortunately. I'm better off, and doing much better than I would have anticipated.

Strong Kat is back. She's taking her house back, her life back, her self-esteem back, etc...

I can't go into detail about all the happenings of late on a public blog. I try to treat people with respect, even if it's just out of respect to who someone was only part of the time. To the few of you who do know, be respectful. My stories are for me to share, or not share, as I see fit. If anyone wants to hold a grudge, that is my right alone, and honestly I hold no grudges, so neither should you. Life changes. Things happen. You learn and you start over.

I'm determined to make this start my best one ever. I will paint. I will treat even myself with some respect. I will spend time with friends. I'm gearing up to quit smoking, but haven't set the deadline yet. No more mourning over my several lives lost. Better to make this one count. :)

Bona Sera ;)
Konbanwa :)
nighty night

Afterparty at my place

Yes, it is true. I went to see a show, and ended up bringing home the entire band. All 7 of them. Those of you who know me know that, while I beleive in showing the same kindness to strangers as one's own family, I am not a big party-girl, not all that outgoing, and definitely not the trusting sort. Yet, I brough 7 complete strangers home with me so they'd have a place to crash.

I was quite embarrassed for anyone to see my house in the horrible state it was in, but I figured it had to be better than 7 people trying to sleep in a van.

I garauntee this is not going to be a new habit of mine, but the girl I'd been talking to was not only a good egg, she was a bit nerdy. I gotta support my fellow nerds. :)

We ended up having an impromtu jam here at my house. We sang, Steve and the band played, the dog ate up all the wonderful attention he so loves... We even taught the Kansas City group about the local terror of the Crider (aka spricket, cave cricket, or camel cricket). A couple of them braved our basement for a bit of Crider hunting, and The Afterparty (name of the band) now has a mark on the "kill list" (I started a scoreboard a while back on my little chalkboard where Steve and I mark a point down for killing insects). I wish I would have had something to feed them for breakfast. Touring like that has to be rough... playing in a different town every night and sleeping in a van. Yikes, that's certainly earning your musician stripes.

Well, I was a little freaked at my boldness, when I realized I was really bringing 7 complete strangers into my home. But, I'm quite glad I did. They were a great group of people and it was definitely a new experience for this little introvert.

Not all of the night was so great. I got WAYYYY too drunk. I may have to just quit drinking for a while, because I don't seem to mind my limits very well. Or at least, I need to set a limit for myself before drinking and just stick to it. I acted like an idiot. I was not myself. I hope I didn't scare off a new friend of mine. But, that's another story.

There is other news, but I think that's enough for now. Life changes, you adjust. I've got my painting, and I've learned that I can be braver than I knew I could be. I've been going out by myself, even. I went to Mac's Friday night and ended up having a great time. At least I didn't embarrass myself that night.

Take care bloggers.
The ever-twisted Noggin

More "music" -sort of

A bit of noise, all done by me (which explains why the bass is slightly off).

http://esnips.com/doc/1db6fc40-b015-4a0c-82bc-ccac1433ac2b/cofbeerandcigs.mp3

Testing...

These are pretty amatuer recordings, but they're all I've got right now. Some recordings of me singing a little, though certainly not my best possible efforts, I suppose. Song 1:http://www.esnips.com/doc/995aaf08-3f71-418e-9969-325cc97005ae/whip-mix.mp3Song 2:http://www.esnips.com/doc/a6638f20-d044-4a62-a434-9b8bd7fbee73/dickandjane.mp3Song 3:http://www.esnips.com/doc/7dac64cb-a13d-47c9-9354-d77e908cae9d/workplay.mp3

bass blue

I posted this pic before (months ago, when it was taken), but I cropped it and messed with the colors just for fun. That's me attempting (and failing) to play a simple bass line I was shown. 

Noggin's Gone Multi-Color Again

Kat is calico again. It's been a long time (years), so it's fun to finally do again. Still the red and blonde combo, though. I love the look of red against my blonde. 

It should be raining,
Pouring over me,
Till I feel nothing else.

I should be fallen,
But I know, if I crumpled,
No one would pick me up.

I should be bound tight
In strong arms or long white sleeves
Till I am safe from myself.

So I shave my legs.
I dye and wash my hair.
I sit and stand and walk and work,

As if there is a person, here,
Operating this machine...
As if I knew what I was doing.

Looking "I" in the eye

Am I a security blanket,
Not a woman?
An excuse for a would-be martyr,
Not a love?
Am I an enabler,
Not an inspiration?

I can’t know.
I don’t read minds.
But I do know my own mind,
And know…

I am tired of loving
In exchange for being tolerated.

I, even I,
Deserve to be someone’s dream,
Not just a placekeeper,
Or to stand alone, should that never be.

So, I am groveling on my knees to God,
For the strength to stand.

Update

I guess I haven't been posting a whole lot, so here's the run down of Twisted Noggin's life:

The home: I'm still a slob, but I love my little house, and it hasn't caved in on me yet.
The zoo: Harry isn't super well behaved, maybe partly because I don't walk him enough (bad noggin), but he is my little angel and is sweet and cute and lovable and wonderful. Sheba is on my lap right now, being cute and affectionate. All is well with them, I think.
The Job: It's been REALLY busy, but things have been a bit better (except I've been late a few times, and that makes me worry like mad). People seem a bit friendlier, lately. I just hope that lasts.
The art: MAJOR painter's block. Don't know what the deal is, but I'm sure I'll shake it soon.
The Family: Got to talk to my dad today, which was great. I don't get to see him nearly enough. I had Tori over the weekend before last, and hope to have both girls over again soon (maybe this weekend?). I didn't get to go out with my sis last weekend because I was sick, but hopefully will get another chance soon.
$: I'm broke, duh. Whatd'ja expect? But I'll live.
Friends: Well, I tend to get frustrated on this level. There are many people I miss, and that gets to me sometimes. Also, the circles I am exposed to, wherever I go, sometimes aggrivate me with the cliques and all, but that is just life. That's how it goes. Still, I have Brandi, whom is absolutely awesome, and a couple friends I don't see so often. I still get to have a pint with Dave, now and then, and chat with a couple buddies via email.
The Band: Just in case I never told you guys, the band broke up. :(

All in all, things are going pretty well. I got to see a concert Monday night, and it was a blast (although I accidentally got too drunk... that's the bad part of switching from beer to vodka - harder to pace yourself)

Anyway... I hope everyone else is doing well. :) Best wishes to all of ya'll. :P

stream-of-noggin-venting

This isn't a poem or anything yet... it's just a stream that came out, as yet unrefined.

This the mess that my mother once named “Kathleen”
As if words could contain all the hell that is me
-The raging world, churning behind these blue eyes

Yes I bitch and I moan, my heart sputters and groans
I reach out, then I always just run off alone
But I’m through with hating myself just for that

If you touch me, you’ll find that I’m warm and alive
Despite all the cold metal I’ve grown to survive
Like the wolf-man, I’m hardened but never stop bleeding

I’ve no pack of my own, here, to coddle and choke me
But I’ve got two eyes, and I know just what I don’t see
People never act noble for true noble reasons

I love strangers the same as I do my own kin
Because all orphans were somebody’s children
-Don’t have to be my friend for me to be yours

I rage hard and cry harder and sometimes I break
I claw myself to shreds over every mistake
But whatever that’s made me, at least I am human

I looked hard at myself, today, in the car mirror
And found myself closer than I did appear -or
At least, things I valued were not up so far

I’m a lost one, but somehow I never lose track
The world robs, but I’m not afraid to give back
Not afraid to befriend whoever needs mending

I am hardened and crazy and tired and I’m wild
But I’m never afraid to trust like a child
If my soul on a platter is just what you’re needing

I am me – sincere, crazy and never judgmental
And I’ll stay that way; strong and naked and fragile
Because this one self, here, is all that I’ve got

might not seem like much, when you’re counting my allies
I’d rather love everyone than to close ranks and close eyes
So when left all alone, I can trust the company I keep

---

Crack open my head
And you’d hear just a scream
Crack open my chest
Where wild animals breed
And just wonder
At all I contain yet keep on breathing

Crack open my heart
I might bleed blue and black
It’s the years that have tainted me
That can never turn back
And find, there, your mark
-staying human, means taking a beating

This is not the first time the urge has hit, but I don't think I've ever felt it so strongly.

Right now, I just want to set the clippers to 1/2 an inch, and buzz my head to nothing but 1/2 inch fluff and bleach it.

But, my boyfriend would of course HATE it with a passion, and look at me like a giant freak.

I just want to buzz it all off, say "fuck you" to all humanity, and spend all my time painting alone.

I don't play well with others, I guess.

I wish I had a workshop and welding tools. I need badly to make sculpture. Big, rusty, elegant, angry, graceful, jagged, ugly, 7-foot tall sculptures.

Book Signing!

John, a truly terrific guy I know, is having his first book signing at a local book store. That is so exciting! Man, I've dreamed of having a book signing... but ya'll know me... I'l probably never finish any of the crappy novels in my head. Too many other hobbies and too much ADD and all this wanting to paint, sew, etc... etc...

Anyway, you can buy the book here

Or, you can go to Destinations Booksellers at 604 East Spring Street in New Albany on Thursday, September 7, at 7 p.m and buy a copy to have signed.

It's about Indana Governers and was cowritten with some other local writers.
Congrats to John!

He's not only a 100% good guy, through and through, he's also an intelligent and facinating fellow who works very hard (regular job, plus writing articles all the time... busy busy fellow). I met him at the local comic book shop.

Anyway... keep up the good work, John. :) See you at the signing.

Vader sessions

http://youtube.com/watch?v=6A0rwG39Jzk

If the link doesn't work, go to youtube.com and type "Vader Sessions" into the search, there.
If you are a nerd, like me, you'll dig it. Trust me. :P

Dig it, babe. Groovy Force shit, yeeeaaahhh....

Happy Harry :)

When I went to the Newport Aquarium, I got souveniers for Harry and Stephen. A souvenier for a dog is tough. He doesn't care much for most toys. So, I bought a cuddly baby seal (couldn't find anything that rattled or squeaked). That night in the hotel, I slept with the cuddly seal in hopes I'd get some of my scent on it. It worked. He loves it. Aint he cute? :)

There is one poem that I would give the world to see again. It was written for me when I was a wee teen. My dear, beloved friend, Virginia, wrote it for me. She was old enough to be my mother, and loved me like a daughter. She had my picture up on her mirror, where her own kid's pictures weren't hanging, even though she loved her childred to degrees that sometimes hurt her deeply. On her death bed, she requested a drawing I had done for her, but my own mother didn't bother to tell me until it was too late, or I would have re-drawn it from memory for her. Instead, mom gave her a painting she'd done of me, and every time they moved her hospice bed, they moved the painting so she could gaze at it easily. I loved that woman. She was a hurt, fragile, strong, completely giving woman. I sometimes wonder if she saw some of her young self in me, but I'll never know for sure. I know very little of her youth, except that it held some painful memories of the very rural hills of Kentucky.

The poem she wrote for me started with this:
"Bridle thy passions, sweet Kathleen, lest thou sinneth in thy fury"
That's all that I can remember, but I've written about it a thousand times in the years since then. How she saw the fires in me, despite my being so completely shy and silent as a kid, I'll never know. But then, those of us with that sort of thing in our hearts, can sometimes see it in someone's eyes with a glance. Sometimes, at least.

That phrase haunts me in a good way. I have thought of it again and again in many moments throughout the days of the years since then. Cancer stole her from me long, long, ago. But I'll hold onto those words for the rest of my life.

Most people didn't know how much we cared about eachother. After she died, people always came up to me and asked me if my mom was ok, since the two of them were close. They never knew to ask how I felt, and I couldn't have really answered all that well. Her husband knew, though. He gave me a pocket watch she gave to him on their anniversary. He said he knew she'd be overjoyed to know that it brought me happiness. I still have it. I take it out and look at it now and then. I imagined I'd give it to my husband, when I was older. But then, the love of men can be so temperamental and fleeting. The way she loved me can never fade, even this many years after she is gone.

Don't know why I hopped onto that thought... but it seemed worth sharing. If you want something more fun and less serious, try the links in the next post. :)

On thing to take with you, please, though. Love the ones in your life. You never know when you will lose them. Cancer at least gives you time to say things (though I was young and stupid and left some things unsaid that time), but you can lose anyone in a blink. Leave nothing unsaid. Leave nothing unapreciated. If someone truly touches your life, they are worth more than life itself, as cheesy as that may sound.

Darnit... now my mind hits another tangent. When I was in college and we were assigned to do a poster on a topic important to us, to move people (basically, a propaganda poster) my classmates did anti-war, pro-war, pro-life, pro-choice, pro-whatever and con-whatever images... all the "big" political subjects. I did a drawing (dark, in charcoal with bits of chalk) of a woman holding a child. I used a photo of myself with Tori (as a baby) for some reference. There's fabric wrapped around us, but no real clothing. Just two humans clinging to eachother in the darkness, with some hazy light on the horizon, and a siloutte of a tree against that light. (the tree was taken from an old belt-buckle that my tree-climbing father used to have).

Politics matter. All those other things do matter, but what good is obsessing over those things if we lose our humanity? Stay human. Give love to the ones you care for. Hold nothing back from eachother, because when you simmer the whole melting pot of life's garbage down, the people who touch you ARE your life.

Ok... soap box dismounted. :) Carry on.

Odd, but funny...

When Stephen told me, this morning, that I needed to go to http://shaveeverywhere.com/ I was concerned it was a hint. (which fills one with dread, as shaving the kitty is NOT comfortable) But, it turns out that it's made for men, anyway, and is just funny. So, once I was done with my mini-concert (I was busy playing the Star Trek, Star Wars, and the Indiana Jones themes, plus a broadway tune and "Wheat (You're Allergic, You'll Die)" on the kazoo), I hopped over to the office/studio/gym/pub room to check it out.

We both laughed out loud.

As much as I'm not into too much man-trimming (stubbly man chests are rough), I loved the site. So, go to http://shaveeverywhere.com/ and click on every option of the menu. Trust me. It's just an advertisement, but it had me cracking up.

By the way, if you want to see something even more amusing, and you haven't already seen it, there's a link at the right for Grocery Store Wars. I love that one.

A Word to Build a Dream on

Feed me a word
An image,
A dream,
From one mind to another
So my visions are not me alone.

I burn up
Pent up -
I’ve no fuel for this fire
Except my want alone
And so, I am devoured in it.

I ache not for the dreaming
But to be the dream.

Give to me your ifs,
Your imaginings, your fancy,
Hunger for this one who hungers
And no one else.
Aching to quench aching,
Fire to soothe fire.

Give me your dream
Of me,
Myself in name, person, body,
This one fire-imp freezing in utter silence.

Tell me
TELL ME
The how and where and what next.
Give me the words
Just once.

Stream of Conciousness Ramblings

(unforgiveably corny, but I'm only human)

Fear, distance, chill and fire…
They erode at the edges of our little island.
But still, every time I look at you,
I know that all of time’s devices
Have nothing on us.

I tightened my jaw,
To guard my health for you.
I became a night owl,
To bask in the glow of you.

And I will bridle my weak mind,
To keep my soul bright for you.

You weren’t the first person
I ever reached out for.
I’ve made room in my heart
For such mirages…
I must pump more sand than blood,
Because my veins still feel the burn
Of the grinding flow of unanswered hopes.
But you made room for me in the shade of you.
You offer me every drop you have to give.

You chose to see in me what others did not,
(What I still cannot see in myself)
As if this sun-scarred and weary fool
Is an oasis to you.
In your eyes, I am, somehow, something beautiful.
How you see such things in me, I don’t know.
Perhaps you are a bit sand-blind yourself.

We are the blind leading the burned
Out of some forsaken land of fools…
To our own little promised land.

Two more paintings! :)

My fourth and fifth attempts (below).
I think I'm improving!!! :)




That is Portrait of Stephen and Blue Dreaming, both in Oil on Canvas, sized 16x20.

Many many thanks to my special patrons (Josh and his fellow artist, who donated paints and canvases). There's no possession on earth I would rather receive. Thank you!

Hey diddle diddle
when you sleep, do you spittle?
Or do you just toot your own horn?
Well, drooling and tooting
while your brain is rebooting
Is better than dreaming of porn.

VeriSiMELLitude

Perfumes have become increasingly unnatural as the decades have fallen away. The scents and styled have veared so far into the realm of fad and fashion that many fail to elicit that emotional connection in our brains that the commercials suggest. Our olfactory response is, after all, a more primal sense. So, I propose the invention of common sense scents… fragrances that truly bring an image to mind by replicating reality.

For men, I propose these colognes:
Rugged: a blend of gun cleaner and cedarwood, with a hint of car grease.
Dangerous: Wisky and tobacco, laced with that tell-tale scent of women’s perfume.
Sensitive: rose oil, ice cream, and salt-water (tears). –this one is especially successful for the man who wants that special girl to “love him like a brother” and “just be friends”.

For women:
Arist: (pronounced ar-TEEST) Linseed oil and turpentine. (my scent)
Flirt: the scents of melting plastic (from her boyfriends’ over-swiped credit cards) and your best buddy’s cologne.
Librarian: Dusty old books and nympho-phermones.
Lolita: Baby powder and apples.
Hippie: Same as always, Pot, Patchouli and dirty hair.
Yuppie Career Girl: Organic fair-trade coffee beans, toner, and office carpet (especially the expensive type in the boss’ office).

More to come...

My portrait of Stephen is fairly close to done. It's been a very time consuming peice, but I've enjoyed it. I painted the background for "Inside" about a week ago, but still haven't had time to start on the actual image. I worked on "Ravenous" today, but it really isn't turning out very well so far. I've scribbled a rough sketch of what "Kennin" will look like (although I may change the name). I'm also working on ideas for what will come after Kennin. Inside and Ravenous are not exactly happy pretty pictures. Kennin isn't so very dark in nature, but it still not the kind of thing you'd stare at and say "Oh, how pretty". I want to make something warm and inviting that Stephen can stare at and admire, but I have to think of something along those lines that is still "me". Admittedly, a lot of what is inside of me is very primal, dark, and unpleasant. But, I know there must be things in my head that are not ugly, angry, hungry, and dark. I just have to figure out how to convey those better sides of me.

I also have a painting in mind that is kind-of an homage to the pub I go to. That's super-cheesy, but I owe them something. But, that's many paintings away, and the ideas come easier than free time.

Anyway... bed time for Noggin.

More paintings to come, soon. Novice and imperfect, no doubt, but I'm not too worried about that. If I can paint at all after so long a hiatus, then I know I have tons of talent and skill inside me just waiting to be developed. It will come.

THE JEWELRY REPORT, with Twisted Noggin

This week in The Jewelry Report, we touch upon the fashions of love...

First, there were just wedding rings, which say, “I am committed to you for life”.

Then, came engagement rings, which say, “I intend to commit to you for life, whenever we can save up for and plan a wedding” (of course, if you are particularly religious, it also says “I get to have sex soon!”, or if you are not “We will definitely get married, but there is no rush, because I’m already banging her anyway”)

More recently, the “Promise Ring” was invented, which says “I seriously intend to someday promise to eventually commit myself to you”. – I think that one is a joke.

Now, I propose the “Like it or not Ring”, (a ring the WOMAN can buy) which says “I am committed to you forever, whether you like it or not”.

With the “Like it or not Ring”, you no longer have to wait until the man realizes your worth and buys you a ring. If you are already a hopeless sucker for him anyway, you can feel free to show your devotion by buying yourself this sparkling trinket. Since diamonds are for engagements, and precious stones for promise rings, I recommend semi-precious stones at the most for a “Like it or not Ring”. Other options are plastic pearls, wads of tin, or perhaps a spike you can drive against your forehead when you are frustrated with that man of your dreams not considering you the woman of his dreams.

This bobble promises to be the next big thing among underappreciated significant others, unrequited lovers, and stalkers alike. If you are the sort of woman who would buy a “Like it or not Ring”, you might also be interested in a barbed-wire bracelet or a thorned tiara. There are, after all, many masochistic options for today’s woman. The choices are only as limited as your imagination.

This is Twisted Noggin with the Jewelry Report. Thank you for tuning in.

I was born in July of 1974... too caught up in the slop and chaos, however, to be fully aware.

I was born in July of 1993... but was careless and took a serious spill.

I was born in July of 2006... and I'm hanging on to this one as only someone who has lived and lost can. This July, I painted for the first time since the mid-90's. I painted very little even back then, although I have sketched off and on through the years.

My work (aka play) is all about the paint. I've lost any preoccupation with proving my skill (whatever skill I might or might not have) and I don't care too much about the subject matter. If I want perfect representation, I'll take a photo. I want to let the strokes and colors show, because that's where the energy and art is.

I tend to use the human form a lot, mainly because of the intensity of expression it can convey with the slightest tilt or twist, each millimeter of positioning altering the body language. Then again, perhaps it is because the painting side of me is the human side of me, although, I tend to focus on the lines, shapes, and energy more than the body itself. I guess I can no more explain my joy in painting than a baby can express his/her joy in those first few steps across soft grass, but I hope it somehow shows in what I do.

Tonight, I will paint a bit more. Whether I paint something beautiful or just something novice and askew, I will create something.

I paint, therefore I am. :)

The trip went swimmingly

I took a trip to Newport, KY (right next to Cinci, OH) with my sister and the kids. As you can see, the girls were able to get up close and personal with some sea life. I didn't take very many pictures, but I'll share the few I have. :) (Below, Tori with Mr. Fishy)

We had a great time, but I was too busy having fun to be snapping photos. My favorite part was probably the shark petting. I caught sharks (accidentally) when fishing for Salmon of the coast of Alaska, but never before had I stroked them like puppies. That was a lot of fun. They leave a very slight sticky slime on your hand, but when you pet them they are just the silkiest things ever. One little one even seemed to really go for it, swimming up for attention and soaking up every little carress like a attention-starved kitten.

For pretty much the whole trip, I was basically unable to eat. (eating out is very hard for me, since most restaurants use so much of the things are allergic to) so I was miserably famished all the while (making due, for about 27 hours, on 2 protien shakes and a snack bar), but the trip was nice nonetheless. And, I was hooked on the pod-racing game at Game Works (next door to the aquarium) and, of course, to ski ball. But man... I was SO FREAKIN' HUNGRY!!!!

Cookoo's Nest

I don't know why the Newport Aquarium has a "Parakeet Landing" place, but I certainly enjoyed it. Here is Tori with a bird in hand (or on hand). And after all... a bird in the hand is worth... well, you get the idea. This pic is too dark for you to see the two birds on my sister's wrist, but you can see the one that was obsessed with her pony-tail holder. It struggled to loosen it for a long time. It was quite amusing (to me, at least, perhaps not so much to Rebecca). :)
And I got to hold some too. Well... like I said. I WAS really hungry. Doesn't my mouth look freakishly huge, here? All those years at the Orthadontist's Office, I guess. Stretched out the jaw muscles. :P