Alone I stand at the edge of an eternity in the water of ice melted by the everlasting love that is humanity. It’s filth and warmth combined with a power so immense it envelops the whole of the universe we live in. I am here, alone, like I always have been. My heart, evolved from the simple organ it was when it first pumped it’s first drops of my sweet hot thick red blood. It is an animal all it’s own, confined by nothing but flesh and bones, so why doesn’t it escape? Why does it choose to just sit in my hallow heated chest surrounded by hallow heated bones? So this infinite rhythm inside me is keeping me alive, why am I alive? No reason, the infinite just chose me and 7 billion other people to live on this clump of stardust that is slowly spinning out if control. A planet filled with beings all harboring the same beat that pumps the same infinite rhythm that haunts the eardrums of the heartless. Their silent chasms craving a beat, a single solitary sound to remind them they’re alive. Maybe that’s our curse, to be constantly reminded of our existance, our hearts constantly racking our bodies with memories and awareness. And it if you’re wondering, yes, it does hurt. So here I stand, at the edge of our silky existence, alone, as always.
I chopped off my hair! And I love it. I never realized how stimulating the sensory experience of short hair is. The feeling of the wind past your scalp, people running their fingers through your hair (and not getting caught in it), and the lightness of my head. Plus, I get to have a bit of a death rock hawk, which is my favorite style of mohawk.
My evening is filled with smoke, ash, graphite, and grapes.
I’m relaxing on my balcony as I draw my latest commission necklace. I love to smoke hookah while working on pyrography. I love the connection of smoke from the pipe to my own burning work.
I also love how distressed my hookah looks. She’s sturdy and the smoke pulls cleanly, but she clearly has been battered around. I see parts of the intended beauty of the original design, but mostly I watch as the bubbles churn inside.
It does make me feel a little lonely, though. Hookah should be passed among companions. I wish I had a friend here who would just sit with me and smoke as we both worked on pieces of art. We’d get excited watching our works progress together, but most of the time we’d just listen to the music, pass the hose, and keep letting our creative juices flow.
Three years ago on this day, my husband and I were handfasted in Breckenridge, Colorado. It was a beautiful ceremony and the most wonderful gathering of friends and family. I love him more than words can say. I am a very blessed woman.
Photography by Doug Treiber Photography
For me, this man is one of the biggest manifestations of Love in my life. He’s my husband, my lover, my constant support. I caught him watching me photograph my art and snapped this photo. I still get breathless and giddy when he flirts with me. I’m grateful for the love he pours into me. I’m also grateful that he accepts the love I receive from other people without any trace of jealousy or doubt. He celebrates me, and I him. Plus, he’s a hottie. I’m a lucky lady.