Rant #14

The Seattle Exposure Project is about dismantling the infrastructure of shame that we are socialized to build for ourselves and other women when our bodies don't meet sex-centric, outlandish criteria of "perfection".  It is about the idea that the body is a tool we use to further our intellectual, creative and spiritual capabilities. And above all, Seattle Exposure Project is about exposing our true bodies, self acceptance, and openness to love & life. 

www.seattleexposureproject.org

Rant #13

pre-lunch touch ups

It was sort of candid, yet flawless how she did it. The strides, awkward. The meat of her thighs, in disagreement. But it was all very subtle, wasn't it? The stark white of the dessert was kind to her, then.

Rant #12

things only flamingos can dig

"I am giving up all lubricants - socially, that is - I guess I always knew that creation could be isolating, somewhere I knew that. At first it was lonely, but now, a friend invites me out, and I imagine myself putting on my face, taking it off again, just to put it right back on again, and --- I am just scared and tired. How many times can your image speak for you before your tongue swells too large and you choke and die?"

She was always asking questions like that. Her brow stern and eyes wide. What the fuck I was supposed to tell her? Could I answer a question with a question? And why was she asking me? I had been clinging to the same jean jacket since highschool, and I wasn't about to put my PBR down to take it off.

Rant #11

At the Carnival with Dad: 98'

One night at the carnival I got scared but I saw God and I felt better
I climbed up to the very, very top, I won a fish there, a tiny fish
There was a lot of anger at the bottom, underneath the ring toss, it hid, so I slid
I went up the ladder and I was scared, Jesus wouldn't say shit cause he knew better
The end, the end, the the the the, the end.

There is no sky in the black land.

Rant #10

[]

ATOM: (noun)

1. Physics. The smallest component of an element having the chemical properties of the element, consisting of a nucleus containing combinations of neutrons and protons and one or more electrons bound to the nucleus by electrical attraction; the number of protons determines the identity of the element. An atom with one of the electrons replaced by some other particle:

muonic atom; kaonic atom.

2. Energy. This component as the source of nuclear energy.

3. A hypothetical particle of matter so minute as to admit of no division.

4. Anything extremely small; a minute quantity.

[[[5]]] The building blocks of everything.

Rant #9

tiny tea cups, tiny, tiny chairs

A cloth this vulnerable is shared only with skin of my own, or the lip of a bottle, transcendent and sideways, feverish and hurried, each time I glimpsed backwards you were all still there, and not just you, but the words between us, an advancing garbage heap, fuming and suffocating. I was stalked. I was cornered by abandonment. The typical abundance of thrusted miles did not ameliorate but stop to wake, each and every one of you. The final adversary was uncovered and approached the day before the new year. A fine old friend, she was, but within this distance, political hearsay spoke for us and she quickly defended her stance. My sword has never been anything but flimsy, a premeditated barrier, just for the seconds before the handshake, the hug, the unconditionalness that seems to be so fragile. I slept in the shape of a six for two hours, and upon waking, drove one thousand miles away; I was finally able to grasp the tenderness of their "concrete" declarations as no fault of mine, and perhaps not of theirs, but as an underlining fear that's fed to them through tap water, television screens and smoke. 2015 has been absent of you, and just about any - bodies, but 23 flowers wilt before me along side 46 colors of paint and 100 warm lights. I have created more. I have laughed more. I can speak again. Leaving feeling left behind, behind. I could never congratulate you on your engagement with the patriarchy, but perhaps on your clever tee shirt, and immense smile. I could spit on that playlist, or killer set. I could, but I wont. This is not a confession of forgiveness, nor is it a plea for it. The lot of you know you were excused before I was even provoked. This is a notice of immunity of myself. No shame, no more.

Rant #8

I have sat down to write, well, rather, laid flat on my tummy, elbows propped out like a tv. stand, supporting a malnourished, meatless neck & skull. I have set out to write when I guess I should be doing yoga, or browning the unders of my legs, or getting my nails done with Lauryn on Sunset. Some Hollywood bullshit. I have been here for one week and one day. Many people have attempted to craft time into something tangible, something a little less weary than the daunting significance behind the antithesis of being able to remember something decades past so absolutely you could swear it happened just seconds ago, and then not being able to cite, for the fuck in you, what you ate for breakfast last Monday. My last couple years in the Pacific Northwest were invigorating, breath-taking, intoxicating, and ultimately, and most importantly, illuminating. Perspective is the light and it wormed it's opinionated, yet irrefutably correct posterior into even the dankest of cracks. But, more on that later, red oil is calling.