artchick

Dandelion Medicine

Sometimes, when I am feeling particularly ill, I will go to sleep and dream a remedy. It could be that I am having a vitamin deficiency, and will dream of B12 and B6 tinctures, or I will be feeling sore and dream of Valerian root tea, which unbeknownst to me is sitting in my kitchen cupboard.

I've always thought this was magical.

Today,...
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Happy thoughts are powerful things.

I have a new domicile, or as close to it without actually living in it yet. For those of you who know, I live in a fabulous art jungle with 5 people and two cats in a two bedroom in the middle of a questionable area of culver city.

This will be the second time ever I have moved into...
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send me happy thoughts. the more I get, the sooner the housewarming party.

I'm tired. My body is a little achy. Still fasting. I chopped off my hair because it wasn't growing back fast enough. I tried to straighten it too, but unlike the lovely Cedar, I only seem to be able to make it fluffy.

I looked for apartments today. I am ready for a change.

A weekend of firsts:

-going to Arizona
-learning to drive a stick shift
-carrying bullets in my wallet
-offroading in an ATV
-bowling (and getting two strikes)
-talking a drunken man out of playing with tear gas
-sleeping beneath a loaded gun
...in a haunted house.

/

Today is day 14 of my fast.

16 more days to go.

Sunday:

Cradled under a canopy of butterflies, I stretched my body, coated with grit and earth and air, beneath the last rays of afternoon sunlight.

I whispered my dreams from the night before to my soldier. My confidante. He pressed them gently to his ear for a moment, before letting them flutter to the stream below.

My hair twists like brambles, dry and brittle, yet the color of the ocean seeps from it into everything; my towels, my shirts, my pillow. I've heard you keep memories stored in the fibers of your hair-- the last several years of my life now blue-tinted and soaked indigo and turquoise. I am reinventing my past, making it brighter, more solid against the backdrop of...
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When you stare at your own face long enough, it becomes a series of abstract shapes, disjointed from meaning.

Hard to discern what shapes do and don't fit under the definition of beauty, and how those overlapping abstractions hold up to that shifting, slippery word.

My body betrays me, the skin stretching, the limbs awkward, and my spirit withers under the weight of its betrayal....
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i am exhausted. i am drained, an uncomfortable, and feeling alone inside myself.

i am going to crawl under my bed, and read, and try to find some peace.

I'm exhausted.