Go To The Getty

It only took me two years and a four minute tram ride.

blue hues vast views

sandwiches

Cupid and Pan~inspired by the quote "love conquers all" Pan personifies carnal lust, his struggle with Cupid represents a fight between divine and earthly love.

Heraldic Panel with the Arms of the Eberler Family~By the late 1400s glass became more affordable and more common as glass windows in homes.

Paris Being Admitted to Helen's Bedchamber~ erotic and robust!

This is from Larry Towell's experience capturing the life of the Mennonite community in search of work in Mexico....and then I could no longer use my dang camera......

Although it was the last of my privileges to take pictures, it began my emotional experience in the exhibit "Engaged Observers: Documentary Photography Since the Sixties." {Photo essays of social concern and particular personal visions of the world}

I was moved by the images of the starving forlorn families of the Dust Bowl, Phillip Jones Griffiths photos of the victims of the Vietnam War, Leonard Freed's collection about being Black in a White America in the 60s, Mary Ellen Mark's depiction of streetkids in Seattle in the 80s, common humanity in fucked up and unjust circumstances...Lauren Greenfield's section portrayed teenage girls growing up in the 90s worried about their weight and the size of their noses...from anorexic girls in the hospital, averting their eyes from the scale they were forced to stand on to young girls at Fat Camps vying for thinness, for beauty, love, attention...because if a woman is not "taught to use her voice, she will learn how to use her body instead" to obtain these social "necessities."

I was moved to tears while looking at James Nachtwey's "The Sacrifice."
Gotta quote it here yall :

"In 2006 he traveled with emergency medical units in Iraq for a photo essay, The Sacrifice, that depicts helicopter transfers from battle sites to treatment centers, emergency rooms where lives hang in the balance, and the difficult process of recovery. Nachtwey created a monumental installation print of 60 individual trauma-center images, tightly framed and digitally collaged into a grid. The object's sheer size—in which one picture gives way to the next in a seemingly endless stream of torn flesh, metal instruments, snaking tubes, and bloodied hands—conveys a sense of the controlled chaos that permeates these medical centers as well as the overwhelming volume of casualties flowing through the medics' hands on a daily basis. Nachtwey's intentionally unsettling work demands that we reconcile the goals and achievements of armed conflict with its human costs, that we be prepared to acknowledge in particular visual terms the sacrifice it entails and the valiant work of those who do their best to mend its path of destruction."

Well.....I dont know about you, but all that shit made me hungry.

so we got lunch then went to the gardens.......

ellen rory jamie

warm

private

bursting

self

Torso of Dina~bronze

Omnipotent Impotence: a paradox

Follow the phosphorescent freckles
like a lillypad lake
Become the skin youre in
only to be torn from
that which you knew
and you knew
knew you
You listen to that tune
but you cant name it
His whistle defies your memory
Tilt your head back-
There you go Jane
Its the whistle of the train
Its coming your way
but wait
Its approximately
half past too late
and a quarter to never
You missed that train
you were already on it

Now youre writing in the dark
in the sky
on a plane
with a wing and a prayer to save you





Follow those blue eyes
and see what they see
You dont have to look
because where they are
it burns
Embers aching to be loved
Smoldering
with sageisms
safety
song
stung by the bee that invited itself in
You didnt even see it
Its mark on you reluctant to disappear

Come back
Come forward
Come out come out wherever you are
But again
you see
the tracks have that old blood on them
From when you were 15
with a bleeding heart
Rich with iron
and irony

At the station where you started
look at those rusty tracks
that took the train away
now about a quarter after
but whos counting
Youre still there
with your little thoughts
and the bees
and the freckles
and the quiet stillness of flight
Solo
Just like you promised you wanted
Still trying to name that tune
So familiar
yet youve never even heard it
Where those tracks venture
youve never even been
and sadly
you know
youll go there
again

The suitcase
The woman
The image gets smaller
The waving handkerchief of surrender
to the inevitable goodbye

Wont you
cum
see me?

"..and all that JAZZ!"

Forgive me.
Im reviewing 8 wrinkly cocktail napkins that i scribbled on at a concert tonight while stoned and feeling old. im listening to george michaels "father figure" on repeat. great fucking song. anyway, here's what i came up with. if you hate it, sorry.

(the dark solitude, the naked, the free, the calm wave of sex on my skin)


when she was 7 they called her "the 40 year old midget". when she was 12 she was an old soul. she knew so much! she knew too much... knew it all well.....when she was 18 he wrote a poem a story a paper about her. she grew to like alone. she preferred alone still conquering alone feared the pain of alone loved the weightlessness of alone. it took practice and patience.

(sex kitten love tiger a stillborn baby of empathy)


shocked at its crispness its cleanliness its manliness its smoothness. not-a-one disappointment in the soft skin of this new slick soft hard penetrating loveliness. it reminded me of a gust of wind and fluffy clouds that move quickly.

"You know, this is the second time you've told me about a movie you saw alone but later wished you were with someone to talk about it with."

Fuck. he called me the fuck out.

(this marks my first trip to los angeles, the worst hangover of my whole life and most terrible haircut of my 20's)


"How the hell does her ass detach from her body like that?" I dont know. it just does. any wit that comes to mind, it just does. how do i know what to say or what to do or how to kiss or when to relate. i dont know. i just do.



(uuhhh...thats what im fuckin sayin)


and why cant you stop for us? for me at least? for yourself at least? i never understood it. im trying!!! this path has turned into a maze, hasnt it?. where are you? where am i? if you listen you can hear my footsteps on the other side of the hedge....please dont give up. just start from the start. there is a way out of here I PROMISE .....if you have the patience to find it.


(whatchugonnadowithallthatjunk?allthatjunkinsidethattrunk?)

really though:one of the best summers. the spontaneity. the growth. the meandering.


(sexy nude bitches who do whatever the fuck they want-not ever sorry bout it)

the spectrum of myself has broadened. all of those colors combined and then separated at once into distinct shapes and patterns of all of me and what i am and what i do. although my roles are never going to change the soundtrack of the times surely will.

(....its so fucked up because for some awful reason i really wanted to die this night.just.stop.living)

ahh you can see it in my eyes there cant you? what a waste of time to hate yourself .....if only i could hug myself..and love myself more....and assure myself that it will all change in some way.

thats the promise we made.

(oh of course you will be!)

i want to write a book called "Shiny Stories: While First Dates and One Night Stands May Be a Waste of Time, They Sure Entertain Your Friends"

(baby give him a chance dont be such a scared-y cat)

I know dont want to get married. maybe not ever. but i do want to be in love and i want a baby. i think. is this possible or are we all destined for failure in companionship? wtf.


(Tennis, anyone?)

its my body .its mine for life. i love it i hate it i laugh at it i look at it and its still so loyal to me. i do need a hug. and a kiss on the head on the shoulder on the eyelid. there. i admit it. are you happy?


(and that's when she checked her own pulse; it's ok keep going)

even without a plan, things unfold. they become. im always young im always old. because it isnt my plan. it just is.