days like this that make me toss over the ideas of medicine:

on lexapro i was absorbing more and reacting less. … but the brain shivers…ugh…. and i always conclude that i should be fixing myself instead of taking medicine. ugh…the brain shivers…. thank heaven for p.j. and evan for being such good friends. but according to them i actually weened off fairly well.

i dropped the lawsuit with the natural health food store. it was just not necessary. in the end i would probably have gotten some sort of severence pay, but the point originally was to confront the owner of his innappropriate dismissal of me. and in the end to make some impact on changing people. that just doesn’t seem likely with a lawsuit. ‘ hi, i don’t like who you are so i will take you to court to try and help you change..’ no. it doesn’t happen that way. just as much as it doesn’t happen when you are close and vulnerable. my rationalizing some sort of impact was probably driven more by desire and greed and vengance than anything. i don’t need to fulfill those things.

on a sidenote: every time i write in this ether-blog this thought crosses my mind:

“why such trivial things, anna? shouldn’t everything be an epic expression?” and i, again, toss these ideas. no, i conclude. everything is epic, and everything is trivial. there is no heirarchy in expression. i stand by that. i would marry that idea. i find that some people are so much readily available to marry a concept than an organism.

all i have been wanting to do is knit. if it wasn’t for alison, i wouldn’t even know where to begin, but she patiently showed me over and over again. and i am really proud of myself for going and learning new stitches, other methods etc. i got new ribbons to weave in eyelets and that makes me the most gayballs crafty crafter ever.

we made pumpkins. i love things that glow warm.

here we have from left to right:
bottom: bat-tleax (p.j.)
the owl (me)
good ole pumpkin design (ryan)
the guy who drank his chemistry (me)
and meatwad (ryan)

a closeup of my owl. don’t you love his feet?

my(our) excursion was great fun. it was a very different environment at the cabin than i had experienced previously. this group made me feel like i was not forcing connections. i liked that. they were active individuals with daily goals other than intoxication. with this i realized a few things. i hide, hermit more often because a. most people are better off without me forcing interactions with them b. i like to be in control of my environment.

on friday we got out early and headed to indy for some putzing around. there was a day of the dead show in indianapolis that i wanted to see. so we looked at alters that were funny (pet shadowboxes) and intense (infants). we came full circle to an old radio and pinned antique store photgraphs with great eyes, all of them. i recognized some of the paraphernalia. the leather bag. the photos from crown point. the voodoo symbol for elegua. and i knew it was my friend. well, we both claimed that we are ghosts now. i put emphasis on my connections. this one i miss, like a death. since we were twelve we grew together. forgiven each other every flaw. we flooded or so i thought. he dismissed me because i wouldn’t hide the past. how ironic, since we used to quote andy warhol ‘you can’t hide your scrapbook’, ‘ never hide your blemishes’. i, apparently, was a blemish and easily dismissed. there are no names mentioned here. there is no defamation of character. so, i see no threat in publicly announcing how much i miss my friend. but it was random and unplanned to find that art of his. my heart pounded as i thought about leaving notes and the possible lawsuit that he would consider upon someone he claimed was a rainbow camoflauge puzzle piece to his life. new, move, break, hang, drop, withdraw, ignore, do it all. if it makes you feel as clean as you wanted.

so, i met roughly about 20 people in three days, all while healing the voids in my mouth. it was a bit overwhelming, but very timely and needed. there were rusted gates at flea markets

HOLLY HOBBY DOLLS to fulfill my nostalgic needs

trees in daytime

trees in dusk

and us. and take note of how awkward p.j. is in these two pictures. what the crap?


i love this one. i love that the camera is shadowing my face and duder-pie is all like “oh man THE SUN! IS IN MY EYEBALLS!”

awkward photos should be a medium with its own category.

one interesting thing about this weekend is that along with productive, active people comes the married, settled atmosphere. where are those that want to redefine love? i have no problem letting the world know that i am in a loving relationship. heck we should celebrate, heck yeah. but in such a traditional, institutional fashion? why? i dunno, there is def a part of me that really cannot shed the worth, like i have stated before. being kept for a defined duration=worthy? binding to something/someone =worthiness? how so? please someone tell me. everyone/everything decays. i mean, sure energy is not created or destroyed, however as we know it “everything ends”(thanks eula biss) however we cling to this notion of infinity, transendance. this isn’t some spinster rant with issues of committment…oh no. i just think that i want to feel worthy, committed, and not be in an institution of such rigidity.

speaking of the definition of family, i really love mine. oh right, my mom. my family has dwindled. and yes, dear friends you are my family as well, however, you are not my bloodline. unless you want to exchange blood in a childish ritual that amanda deal, my brother and i did on schrage street that involved a pocket knife and a bit of nervous laughter. hey, let’s do it. but anyway, it is me and my mom for the most part. i am very understanding in that my bond with my mother is even more important since the death of my brother. and i fail at communicating with her on a more dedicated schedule. i am erratic in my phone calls. shame. shame on me. i know. but it is really hard for me to open up after all the years i tried to be the vulnerable loving daughter and was chosen over. regardless, the point is this: my mom has to schedule yet another heart surgery. the first was the summer before last. it was the day that justin pushed me off my bike and broke my foot. one month after he fucked a flake, and a mere seven months after my brother hung himself. consequently , it was also two months before justin decided that he wanted to switch with the girl across the street. it was intense all by itself, the calandar of 2005. well, i wheeled in with a freshly broken foot and my uncle tells me that the surgeon has broken an artery and they had to do an emergency triple bypass. mind you my mom is 56 years old. i have made motions to create my own family. but nothing is secure as i have learned. i am nervous. i am shaking as i type because this is it. me and my mom. i am nervous. and i want to be bigger than i am. i want to be a song for my mom.

i think i will repress my nervous energy on that one.

i have two new buttons in the gallery section of my website. ‘toy kamera’ and ‘the expressive endeavor of writing remains intact’. there will be photos that i have taken in t.k. and my creative writing in e.e.o.w.r.i.

there are some things uploaded in there, but expect more. now that i have more time, less shows i have the time to dedicate to uploading and tweaking the website.

not really, though. i have two voids in the back of my mouth where they wiggled the wisdom teeth out. wiggle makes it sound too fun. here are a picture of the teeth. please be grossed out.

during my medicine forced naps i saw my brother smiling. the other day i was relieved to find that even though i lost everything on my hard drive somehow the audio recording of him was in my files. it is always nice to have a voice recording of your dead brother saying “i love you”.

the more that i meditate and let go of batty past and antsy future thoughts the more these other memories flood in. it makes perfect sense.

someone said that i live up to the root of my name ((grace)) because i am articulate.

sometimes i am overwhelmed with the inability to make any valid impact. i can choose how and what i mark ((forms of expression, means of interactions, reactions in general)), i can choose what i consume/absorb((food, information, interactions)), i can choose my environment for the most part.

upon further thought (( not that much really, i am just in a fastidiously critical mood)), i realize that it isn’t so much that i make these “choices”. it is that other reactions from everything else including myself have made that makes it a limited choice, since all i have to choose from is in choices that were responses to other reactions.

this internal argument usually begins when something in me politically gets agitated. this morning it was the nuke or no nuke scares in korea. i am naughty in that i want to ignore it and not give it attention so that it ((these vicious fights don’t seem to end in whatever scale you are looking at)) it loses its power over me in the least.

i stand on nothing. i stand behind nothing. there is no movement as of yet that i am aware of that adheres to the general collection of peaceful moments as the priority. and in line with that, i am not the leader of any such movement on account of the fact that i am busy with balancing and finding peaceful moments.

thanks to particular influences i am effectively growing admirably while maintaining a fairly healthy relationship.

next up: i pondered the pushiness of posting poems here. ((how’s that for alliteration, eh?)) i got over it. so, this poem was inspired by the heavy duty rainfalls up north((tha dirtay north)):
it came on through your added attic

ditch flooded, court

where we recklessly picked berries

our fingers and t-shirts stained and we never talked

i’d kill for a volatile interaction like that these days
when i try to define my own worth

i cannot uncondition the disposition

that we are weighed in how many people stay on in our lives