My wings are buried underneath the clutter right now. I am trying to find them. These things are under my breath in my head as I am under the radar....

I like Lazlo's photos.

And David Choe.

I went to a wake on Friday. I sent her granddaughters this poem.

I loved Thumbsucker.

And Murderball.

I exist part time here now.

I called the past and made a mistake.

I told my sister that to get burned and scarred is not always a bad thing.

I tried to make a food blog and failed after a few days. Have to try again. I failed because I started eating bad and was embarrased.

Atticus had a birthday. He turned one. 1. Gretchen painted this and made me cry.

I told everyone at his party that This is his family. You all. You are his community and it keeps growing and growing. That's why you were invited.

I didn't invite everyone I wanted to. Our space isn't that big.








This artist is getting ready. I see him in my head as I peek around a corner in a lowlit room sitting in daylight dark holding a deck and meditating. In reality, he's probably eating cheese fries or something.

More always more.

Atticus was sick. As was Gabrielle. As was Irene. Everyone is getting better.

Today, February 14 is Seria's birthday. She is 11. And a beautiful Siamese.