We’re consistently being judged and schooled in the ways of a righteous and moral existence by men who keep mistresses, fuck gay male prostitutes and molest their little sisters, all while voting against laws that would give women, minorities and gays equal rights. It’s one classic case of do as I say, not as I do after another and the obvious and blatant hypocrisy is stomach-churning.
So many never wake with clenched jaws, with jagged teeth newly softened and smoothed and transformed to powder. So many have never hosted such a civil war in their mouths. They’ll never mourn the fatalities, the wounded, the lost. You’ll never crush things between your teeth the way you used to. You acknowledge this.
Every child wants to know that their parents not only love them but love each other. I have small fuzzy memories of what could have been love between my mother and father: laughter, tickling, pet names, but those small moments had all faded and died before I was out of elementary school. From that point on until my father shot himself, my parents were strangers to each other at their best and bitter enemies at their worst. And I was struggling with the being of the product of that failed alliance.
And yet, I knew in the deepest and darkest corners of my heart that at one time, they loved each other, they had passion for each other and probably would have died for each other. I’ve only ached for being too late to have witnessed it. Instead, I watched hate conquer love. Every child of a broken home has, and they carry this around with them in their bones for the duration of their lives.
What if this is Heaven? What if this our reward for being good in a life of bleakness and despair, darkness, and savagery? What if we, holy, starved while all the others ate each other before turning themselves inside out and rotting to waste in the pulsing sun? What if earth is paradise?
When I was still a teenager, I bought a beautiful book showcasing some of the most gorgeous nude and erotic photographs of the time. It was phenomenal, and it only fueled my passion for photo documentation of the female body. Anyway, on the first page there was a a graceful but delicate quote about how all photographs are essentially about love. And I loved that quote. It alludes me now and a quick google search yields no results, but I know I still own the book. Someday soon I’ll find it.
Happy 2nd Birthday to dear Adalynn, my good friend Kristin’s little girl, the sweetest note in the melody of her parents’ lives!
I’ve assumed the new role of columnist for Fluffer Magazine and the newest issue is now out!
Love without apology, without reservation, without fear, without safety and security and that hard shell you swore no one would ever crack. Love without boundary, without apprehension and cynicism and timidity over exposing the soft part of your flesh. Love like it’s the last time you’ll ever love because this life is much too short to waste such a precious commodity. You were born to love. Anything else is wasted potential.
We would meet in a chatroom in 1997 when were just teenagers. We’d grow close and in 1998 when my father killed himself, Mike would become one of the only people I could talk to about it. I would read his sweet words on the screen, grieving over the loss, sinking into my swelling isolation and wishing I could disappear into his strong arms. I quietly fell in love with him then but he lived in Philly and I lived in New Mexico, and 2,000 miles is enormous to two kids with no means to cross it.
“What it is…is a place where I can return to myself. It’s enough of a scramble to get to…that the energy expended is significant, and it translates into a change in my body chemistry and my psychological chemistry and my heart chemistry…”
“It has been 14 years since I first picked up a paintbrush. And I spent much of that time feeling like an imposter. I didn’t study art or illustration formally in school. I did not follow traditional pathways to get where I am. Most of what I do most days I taught myself how to do. I don’t even know most of the time if there is better or easier or “more right” way to do what I do.
And for that reason, I used to spend a lot of time feeling inferior; like for some reason I did not deserve the success I was experiencing. And worse than that: that’s what I feared others might think about me too.
But at some point, I decided, this is bullshit.”