Monsters. Day 74.

I just got a phone call from my mirror souled creative other-half who I haven't heard from since the Great Departure of 2010. Such joy from hearing his voice over my little iphone, but so much anxiety talking about the incident that I actually started shaking. I thought I was over this. Well, OK, I knew I wasn't over it, but I thought I'd at least started to move past it. Anger is a funny thing. I compared this incident to breaking up with a love, but it is different, seated deeper than that. Hanging up the phone, I realized that my old friends, depression and darkness had invited themselves in for the evening. I've had break-ups that were easier to cope with than this. The snake that you don't even hear. Feeling his fangs pierce your skin, your world spins more slowly. It doesn't happen instantly, this little guy has other plans. Meandering through your veins, taking it's sweet-ass time, the venom seeps through your arm, then your leg. Time seems to stop, and then it finally reaches your chest. You feel the pulling, and tightening. It may not be enough to kill you once the when some of venom has been sucked out as if it were part of a great tormenting exorcism.

Months pass, the bruising finally heals, the scabs come off, and you start to exit the shadows, in the darkness that you have become. Still shaking and sweating, you realize you will make it through, but you may never look at the world quite the same way again, and the world will never see you in quite the same way either. No longer poisoned, but still tainted.

This event. This thing. It is sticking to me. I called another good friend from the same space, and realized while on the phone that I have closed off my world from what it was before, making it as small, and warm as possible to combat my inner anger. Was this healthy, was this really the right thing to do? I still get txts from people seeing me on Speed Channel or HDTV Theater, from before the year changed seasons, ironically letting in more light, which seemed to be the opposite of my life at the time. Now that the seasons are changing again, darkness seams oddly inappropriate, welcome, but not where I am moving.

Maybe it's time to actually step back outside, back into my previous life. Maybe not.

I have made some good progress on the Sherpa skirt, but now feel so distracted that I have become sidelined to the rest of the day. My focus gone, elated to hear from my friend on the phone, anxious about the past, and now, again, the future, I leave you with my Lada Gaga Meat Dress Halloween Costume.

Inspiration from a Lady who keeps her personal life private in the fish-bowl that surrounds her, and lives through art both of her own creation and of others. She may seem like only an outlandish pop-star, but she is courage in physical form. My—somewhat silly—tribute to you.

And, depression and anxiety, a message to you: You can suck-it. I'm too good for you now. I don't know why you can't see that. Bitterness, you can suck-it, too.

As my D200 camera battery is dead, and I have conveniently lost its charger, these photos are courtesy of friends. Neither show the shoes well, which were the best part. You win some, you loose some. At least someone remembered to take pictures. The police hat is courtesy of my friend Sarah, who also dressed up as a stripper police officer. You can see my "steak" hat in the picture of Ramon Stan and me.




PS - I apologize for the cryptic nature of this post. It's better this way.