20 Cats

2007

Quiet Days

spent not talking, just observing

False Evidence Appearing Real, but not Really

A Letter to Fear

You are tugging at the monofilament sutures
and it feels a little like death.
Tiny deaths threatening to take the
warmth of fur from my body,
the baby from my arms.

There is nothing real about your
uninvited visits, your wheelchair tactics.
I am keenly aware of your smell,
metallic and mucousy,
hot lava through my body

Do not draw your dull fangs at me,
I don't reply kindly to empty threats.
All your evidence is truly false
mirror, mirror, time to fall

Clandestiny

I met up with a woman named Laurie tonight. She calls herself the Wellness and Beauty Coach. We rendevous'd at Cosmic Cafe, both of us having had very full days of future-making. The connection and exchange was intense, and we both delved very deeply into ourselves, our lives, pasts, insights, relationships, discoveries, intentions, cats and Egyptians. Wow. Four hours of near-psychic interaction, we decided that the deja vu I experienced when I sat down and opened my notebook was indeed a good omen. Yes. YES. YES YES YES YES. I really needed to intensely connect with someone on the same wavelength. A kindred and fierce fiery Saggitarius.  She gave me a title to what I do: Creative Director and Producer of Life Art. Art Star. Shape-Shifter. 

We discussed my undeniable draw to NYC. 

I watched Sex and the City with friends last night. There was an emotional response, as well as a deep thrill. New York Fuckin' City. 24 hour health food stores. Ultra-progressive but gritty. Big Deal City. International as hell and a real Chinatown. 

Earlier today, I photographed Trista. She's a dancer who just graduated SMU and just really hot. There's something carnally sexy about dancing and dancers in general. Their bodies, the talent of using it to form expressions of emotion, abstraction. Here are some of the photos..

forever

I'm not ready for heartbreak

Not ready for the distance that will swallow me whole

The not-touching we'll do, the unholding.

I can't bear to be with a hole in the center of my vision

an emptiness that feels like I've left bodypart somewhere else,

irretrievable and lonely