March Fourth, a day to go forward

All of the stuff is packed and ready for the new space. Here I go again. I'm really excited to change my life completely from here on out. Otherwise I think the stress will kill me!

Shit on her face

It's abundantly clear. I've got to get away from the people I am around. They are bad. They are fucking assholes. They are MEN.

A Stitch in Time

This photograph of my maternal grandmother Julia was taken in the late 1940's, probably in Louisville, KY. I will ask my mother if she knows the where and when.
My grandmother Julia was the first piano player in the family, as everybody reminded me when I was young and showing promise. Up until finding this picture I had forgotten she was a needle wielder, though I now remember her giving me a rose colored sweater --- perhaps crocheted? I don't remember, it was so long ago and obscured by the intricate intarsia and fair isle cardigans gifted to me by my paternal, Scottish, granny. But I was much closer to grandma. I remember her telling me "a pretty girl is a dime a dozen" and "I was country before country was cool". She would also laugh uproariously --- like I do --- when telling the story of The Afro That wouldn't Stand and how the train porters would warn her "Ma'am you're in the colored section". She was one of the most beautiful women I've ever known or seen, and I miss and love her love her love her.

Goodbye 613

This is the end of the band. This is the end of the coupled hand. This is the end of the harvest land. This is my ego on remand. This is the lift off of new demand.