more pointing fingers

After reviewing this thing from the beginning, Y must admit Y have been saying the same things since ever Y first saw you.
Duh.

Chicken Shit

During MY long career as a student of drugs and alcohol, Y have learned that when One points Her finger at another, One has 3 fingers pointing at Oneself. Recently jecusse tolerating certain behaviors in your friends and thus being destructive. Nes say pah?

It has come to my attention that whenever Y heard the collection art queen greatest hits hear was:

"she have made me love her and i aint gon leave her be

i aint gon stan no quitten and she aint gonna dog me aoun

if she dog me aroun she...six feet in the groun"

Unless you spent a few months in 2 different shelters for beaten womyn (and as the only One there due to a Lesbian relationship) you would probably not know the effect these words would have on ME.

Same as hearing the police hollering over and over the airways "i'll be watching you" which you may know is one of the most popular songs in the united statesian catalog.

Interestingly, the art queen song was immediately followed by Lady be good (to ME) and then Hit the road JACK. Fasinating. Not gonna even mention the stoned with (the sweetest pet)Under my Thumb.

Anyways, may a culpa.

Plus, happy Summer Solstace.

So LONG

Mystr Sal goes ALL the Way
Longer than usual - can you take ALL the medicine?

Notes

• Nail Polish can Hurt!!!
  
  detail of hears why
  
  ARTIST INFORMATION FORM
  FRESH MEAT IN THE GALLERY 2008: RIOTS AND REVELATIONS
  Name: Cayann, Queen Sal of Lesbesquet
  Name for shipping purposes: MamaMade Farm
  Mailing address: not
  Phone number(s):gone
  Email (please print clearly): insf
  DEMOGRAPHIC INFORMATION:
  The following information is for funding purposes – and helps us understand who we’re reaching. Filling out the following information is optional and will be kept confidential and not be used in the exhibition in any way.
  5 3 1953
  
  Race/ethnicity: Everyone is African. My color: PINK
  
  Gender: MetaGendered, and Y can tell you it's fabulous
  Sexual orientation: North, South, East, West, Sky, Earth
  Where did you hear about Fresh Meat in the Gallery? Y blame MY Online Buddy
  ARTIST BIO: (:-))
  Big. Pink. Different
  Music is MY Medicine. Thinking is MY Sport. Nature is MY Faith.
  Ask or Tell ME Anything.
  Y'm Crazy. Not stupid.
  
  ARTIST STATEMENT:
  Spelling does not apply to ME.
  
  HOW DOES THIS WORK RELATE TO OUR ‘RIOTS AND REVELATIONS’ THEME:
  Worked with toxic chemicals like nail polish, and Y will not let it kill me or even make me sick.
  The frame is inside, freeing me from any external control.
  Most of what Y would write is evident in the piece.
  Made it special for you, since you called for art. There is more to this work than can be seen here. Not every one can see everything about this work. We who hang it on the wall can see a lot of the hidden stuff. Maybe not all, though.
  PIECE #9 = H'ears WhY
  Title (if any): Queen
  Year made: today
  Medium: mixed
  Dimensions: as big as a house. ha ha.





• American Footbinding
  detail of photo below ( from art business )
  

They do it becuse of the huge incomes, or so we were told.

sculpture by Maxx Sizeler that we didn't see at changing landscapes even though wearing foot deformers will change one's experience of every landscape.

• Any book written by a self proclaimed pornographer for adults about children having sex is child pornography. Even if it's about lesbian little girls, because lesbians are people too! :-)

• Eye shadow is attractive even on old hags.

FAQ is the same as fa-q is the same as fuck you

b-f is the same as butt-fuck

Post/Script

STRICKEN

At Last. My Pretty Doll.

Kernel: Figure Model

Here's the whole story about my experience ( in a NUT shell ):

• Aritstes may not mingle in the melieu of the figure model due to class aspirations
• Crayola crayons are not a valid medium for the production of Fine Art
• Money talks / Bullshit walks
• Although work is done naked, if you wrap yourself in a stolen cotton hospital sheet instead of a polyester terrycloth robe, you will be pariah to all
• Take some acid or darvocet
• When assholes who think they are better than you because they are paying, not being paid and because they have clothes on and you don't, measure your skin (?) with their folding ruler which is very cold, you can ignore them better and keep your pose if you have used the darvocet rather than the acid
• Artistes prefer to study a nice slim long-haired cock-sucker (of any gender) rather than a rude big-tit fat dyke in a shaved head
• If you are a figure model who could briefly pass as an artiste, you may be approached by a butchly artiste who is curious or in a momentary crisis, but when it suits her, you will be kicked to the public area
• Figure models have nothing but time
• Atists have nothing but important, creative work to do for the benefit of mankind

A Clue For You

Creation इस only one थिंग.
The other thing is destruction.

“I devour this Age of Man!”

by Thalia Took

Here, Pussy

We have a mutual friend who is Queen of All Wild Pussies, nes ce pas? (Does that fr. make sense?) Y thank you so much for connecting us because she does not freak out when the veil is thin.

Steven Colbert talks to me. One time he looked right at me and his whole face filled the screen and he yelled out SALLY! But so recently he has been talking about mind blowing, which Y just did a few days ago. And it reminded me to tell you that when Y sent you the link to my self-made site, Y did give you complete credit for it. ( Well, not the code part. ) You did show me the beauty and give me a little nudge in the ass. The point Y am trying to get to is you suggested that's why it's so important to me. But it is not so important to me because of that. In fact, only YOU are so important to me. Because you are so important. Simple, nes ce pas?

Y know Y do not hallucinate SC talking to me. And Y know he doesn't know he is doing it. But Y know and Y bet the aforementioned Queen would know it if Y told her.

10 31 2006

Luxury or Necessity?

"...I'm just the kind of person who both thinks before they speak/post/write and has very, very little time..."

To think before one speaks: In the trade, we call that 'impulse control'. Some of us got it, some of us ain't. Both of us reap the rewards as well as the unwelcome consequences of the mode we have been assigned.

Time
Here are a few of the complaints Y have heard:
Every time I call, you are working on your blog.
When you are done on the computer, then you want to talk to me. Like I should now drop everything because you are finished.
How come you have to do that music all the time?
If you are too busy to talk to your ONLY son.......
Are you ever going to (insert the name of some stupid chore that Y could not care less about....)

As for you, Y believe you were recently complimented on how you have been using the blog to promote both your work and those who have been supporting it.

Will she cut off her nose to spite her face?
Y did.
Not recommended.

Time Means Nothing To Me

Time means everything to me.

How Many Times Have Y Asked You To Shoot Me? Just Kidding.

First Y said this:

Y won't be bombarding your email

you can see me whenever you feel like it

we are so so so often talking about communicating

Why don't you tell me something? For example, are you in danger of burning up again? Y would like to know the answer to that. ( really, how long would this take to answer? circle one: yes. no. )

You are very busy, we can all see how much work you do

...there is the work you do that you don't let us...know about

Y am not asking for more of your time than you are willing or able to give me

can it please be -ahem- quality time

And you responded with this:

you are not "too hard" for me

Ok, then why do you say this:

I am concerned
This is a problem
need to slow down
look at that
I am not okay with this
I am a very busy person
extremely limited availability to even my best friends
I already communicate with you much, much more than most people I know
(here Y am biting my cyber tongue So Hard)
you indicated that you weren't getting sufficient feedback from me and it was causing you serious distress.
Am I misreading the situation?

You tell me.
Don't really tell me, it's a line of rhetoric.
The facts that are pertinent, in my oppinion - which is never humble:

We were introduced by someone who was on her deathbed. It does not seem possible to me that this was a coincidence.

We have many things in common, the most obvious of which Y need not state.

The more occult things we may never know, because we waste a lot of time figuring out what we want to disclose, obscure, or omit for fear of overwhelming the other party. The last one Y claim only for myself. And often Y think you are graciously trying to ease me out of your sphere, and Y try to co operate. Which is so hard because Y know we are meant to be doing something, and Y feel you somewhere, and Y cry and thank you for the ride and try to leave it alone. And then you tell me you missed me?

From the beginning, my intent was to be supportive of you and your true work. Y never wanted you to think that Y was demanding your attention (though you have complained often of feeling pressured to respond to me - my bf panic being an exception on my part). Y have been aware of your reluctance and/or wariness to engage too deeply or transperently with me. After all, Y know that Y am *not* one of your "best friends". And one of our first contacts, the one where Y impotently offered my help to you, was sparked by your considering appropriate disclosures made about oneself to others. In truth, being an internet buddy places me in the category of virtual acquaintence, if it's convenient for you to think of me as such. Maybe this is my shit, but Y believe you are afraid of me. (Who do Y remind you of? Just a thought....)

Additionally, Y realize that Y have been drawn ( ha ha) to your energy and have been using it to boost my own derelict abilities. Y recall writing to you something like: "Y freely admit Y am using you shamelessly, but Y don't know why or what for." But Y do have an inkling or two, at this time. Y have also said that Y do not understand everything about our association. Y do know that whatever happens between us is important to me because the whole thing has been blowing my mind, so to speak. Y do not place a good/bad value on this. It just happened/happens and keeps on giving.

Hey, Y can write on and on in this blog and if Y do and if you never look at it, Y am getting a fine return on my investment. The crying, the sadness, the anticipation, the anxiety, the disappointment, the relief, the self-doubt, the pride, the cheer and the hope - just the story of my life. You don't have much to do with it. Unless you want to.

You ask me, "Am I too hard for you? "

Well, let's see a pared down list of what Y have been able to cope with in the last 53 years:

• Starved for the first 7 days of my extra-uterine life
• Smarter and more reality-based than any adult who had dominion over me for 17 years
• Lied to, humiliated, beaten, fucked and neglected ongoingly and intermittently - never knew how it would be on any particular day - for 17 years
• 6 years at a catholic school which was the repository for every stupid/insane/vicious/frustrated dyke nun (ages 23 to 90) in the order of st joseph
• First viable suicide plan at age 7
• Broken bones not treated in a timely fashion because we had to do something more important that day
• 3 mental hospitals before Y turned 20
• Married a boy whom Y later watched kill a kitten and then a few weeks later Y found out Y was pregnant
• Had an abortion and a tubal ligation in a hospital done by a real doctor when Y was 19 and both procedures were illegal and against hospital policy
• Figured out Y am a lesbian and began my first (4 year long) relationship with a homophobic woman who stalked me until Y let her move in with me
• Had the unworldly experience of her sitting on my chest with a butcher knife to my throat while Y lay screaming for help and a faggot in the next room who lived with us pretended nothing was happening
• Hooked up with yet another woman who liked to humiliate me, hit me, threatened to kill me in my sleep, and inspired me to present myself to battered women's shelters on two seperate occasions
• Answered the door to the FBI who were looking for the "kidnapped" grandchild of a VERY famous author and which Y knew something about
• Escaped to one of the land-trust lands (Not Private: legally owned by All Women on Earth) where Y was able to survive for a year despite the fact that a woman tried to cut my face off with a bottle (guess who went to the hospital- hint: not me) and a bunch of women from a 200 mile radius gathered in their most formidible dyke armor: boots, jeans, thermal underwear, flannel shirts, leather gloves, down jackets and backpacks despite the fact that it was about 70 degrees outside - and told STARK NAKED ME that they were going to get the authorities from town to make me leave (guess who left- hint: not me)

That brings you up to about my 28th or 29th birthday, so need Y go on? Y am not going to, because what is the point. The point is, although Y do love you so much, whatever you do, don't do, say, read, or think Y will deal with it somehow. Y want you. Y don't need you. Whatever Y can do to help you, that's what Y want to do if Y can. Here is a start:

• Y am not your responsibility
• You know what to do in your own firey heart
• No matter what you do today or next week or in forever, if you want me for something at any time, please tell me
• Here is what you told me: You don't need to justify anything, to me or anyone else. Including yourself.
  I'm -- years old. I have a life. Know what I mean?
  Hang in there, sweetie,

Figure Model

Remember a while ago when the topic of figure models came up? Y really liked what you told me. Y wish you could see this whole drawing, but this is all that fits on my butch's scanner.

This one place where Y worked, it was a fancy college in Detroit. Y knew all about it because Y wanted to go to art school (Pratt) but they wouldn't let me go out of the state, so Y checked this place out. It wasn't called exactly the name it is now - upgraded. Y got married (17) and went to Wayne State across the street. So this fancy place, you had to submit your portfolio to be considered for admission. When Y went to work there, Y expected that the students would be able to draw. OMG they were BAD. In a class, there would be maybe one or two who could draw, one or two who maybe would learn to draw, and the rest must have been in the autobody design department. Or they were being ripped off, like that draw this puppy school by mail. Y want to tell you all my stories about this job. And Y will. Just not now.

When and where did you ever mingle in the figure model milieu? Tell me all the times!!!

Y remember that a long time ago, Y told you that Y would send you a picture of my pretty doll, and Y did not forget.

Whose Yer Daddy?

If you have stumbled upon this post, you can hear this mix at whims.

Did you notice my true Daddy is on here?

Mannish Boy - Muddy Waters
I Wanna Be Your Dog - Iggy And The Stooges
Baby Got Back - Sir Mix-a-Lot
Fire - Ohio Players
Smoke Two Joints - The Toyes
Mighty High - Mighty Clouds Of Joy
I Walk On Guilded Splinters - Dr John
Trouble - Ray Lamontagne
Lonely Teardrops - Jackie Wilson
Shameless - Garth Brooks
Bo Diddly - Bo Diddly
Do You Wanna Funk - Sylvester
Jump In The Line - Harry Belafonte
Rubberband Man - The Spinners
The Way You Do The Things You Do - The Temptations
Donkey Butt - Twelve Gauge
Wang Dang Doodle - Howlin Wolf

Strange States of A Non-Affair

Why is it that when we communicate we are so so so often talking about communicating? Why don't you tell me something? For example, are you in danger of burning up again? Y would like to know the answer to that.

Y notice that whenever Y let you know something important about myself that Y never told you before, you just go on as if nothing has happened. Y wonder if you are trying to be polite, like how people try not to notice if someone has lipstick on her teeth. Y have let you in on some details about my life that many would find shocking ( shocking, ha ha ) and you never say a word, or ask for more info, or anything. This is part of the back and forth of everyday relating that Y so miss with you. Add it to the cues, voice inflections, body language (let me hear your body talk, your body talk....) that Y already complained about missing and it adds up to some frustration on my end. Y wonder what would happen if Y said, "Really, darling, you should know I am a man." Guess Y will never find out, because Y won't say that since Y am not a man. Plus everyone knows Y hate men. (Y don't really hate men but people are always telling me Y do.)

You are very busy, we can all see how much work you do. And then there is the work you do that you don't let us (or is it just me?) know about. The point is, Y am not asking for more of your time than you are willing or able to give me. But can it please be -ahem- quality time?

Welcome to My World

Y would like to get to know you.....

Yes, Y would.

Y sent that purple square for you, and the green/yellow luncheon napkin for me. Who is Leo Narducci? Couldn't resist that b/w to wrap the guinea feathers. Those 3d twats are milkweed pods. We hold them sacred and let them grow wherever they want because they host the Monarch Butterfly eggs and catapillars. Plus, when all the seeds blow away there are golden yoni hanging everywhere.

Once, long ago, Y found myself on Maui. There they grow everything good: coffee, onions, pineapples, passion fruit, aloe, hibiscus, cane, and of course: Maui Wowee. Everyone said: Maui no ka oi. But here is a song called Hawaii No Ka Oi. Anyway no ka oi is "the best". Really the best, better than everything else. Maui No Ka Oi came first, Y think, since there were t-shirts everywhere saying it. And, as we know, all culture originates on a t-shirt or bumper sticker.



Oh, that painting. Here's the whole story: Crayola crayons resist with Japanese ink. Then, to Kinko's on that weird corner in Berkeley where they had the first Cannon Color Copiers. That's what you got. A valuable antique color xerox. Y got it down so they would intensify the color to the point that it made a thick, pretty layer which looks better than the original drawing. Just ignore that stupid copyright thing. My work is to be used freely for all non-commercial purposes. It's called Fyre. And that signature name is my California name. So you can keep it private since Y don't live there any more. Y must have been in such a hurry when Y signed that, cause it's not at all my usual style of the time. Plus, Y know Y made the original at least in '89.

The poppies - hallucinogenic - does this have something to do with your friend M, the one with a beauty of a life? Got an interesting link there.

Y was so scared about that cyst because more than anything in the world, Y did not want to tell my mother that Y was going in for a mastectomy. She nursed my grandmother through hers. And now she is coping with my sperm donor who has lung cancer and he wants to LIVE! It is so strange to have to pick him up off the floor, fling him into a wheelchair and order him not to wear socks on a slippery floor. That's what Y did yesterday. He used to be smart ( and cruel ) but now he is utterly impotent. Freaky. Stressful. A slap in the face like what the bishop gave us to remind us that from there on in it would be lots of slaps we would be enduring. That fucker (both those fuckers, actually) hit me hard, too. My sponsor, whom Y was totally in love with, and whom Y never saw again after the pageantry, was the only thing that made me think twice about maintaining the correct decorum after the cone-head wallopped me. Ever since she's out of the picture, and Y maintain no decorum whatsoever.

Here's something that may amuse you. In my pissing, moaning, crying, flinging my corpus around, etc, for being banned from Butch-Femme.com both my darlings had the same response:
My Darling Butch: "Big deal, you got kicked off a website. You been kicked out of countries!

My Darling Son: "What is it called? Butch femme? Mom, you should own that site. (Me: Y can't argue with you) Well, you already got banned from a country."
Yes, Y studied the rules before and after. After, Y noticed that none of the rules were followed by anyone. Private ownership: a wonderous thing. Master of one's domain. The fate of others held in one's own hand. Or so it would appear. Y love power of ownership, too.