Forgot password again. Maybe it's me, maybe it's Blogger Beta action. I have no idea. I'm still in the throes of recovering from the Halloween party at the Townehouse on Saturday night. Yes, I am aware it is Monday evening.

Things feel off kilter, not quite right. Something missing, or maybe I forgot again. Whatever it is, I hope it resolves itself by tomorrow. I can't keep walking this line.

Ok, if I were the perfect girl, I'd be adding photos all the time. Thing is, still no cable. I was a bandit in a leather corset at the party. Think Zorro, but...female. I tottered around on highheeled boots all evening, then ended up at some friends house, talking about being a poser. I may have to kick him the next time I see him.

But I guess I can be a poser. Anything is possible, right?

Hung my sheets out on the line today. Fall air. Green 400 thread count, swinging in the air. Now, the dogs are sleeping on clean sheets and I've decided to watch Carnivale again since I didn't pay too much attention the first time. It's amazing what *I* miss when I'm not looking.

London calling. Still.

I don't know if I like this place. I always forget my password, and logging in seems to be such a hassle. Of course, I could be saying that because I'm outside, typing in the cold while I smoke. Cigarettes.

Sometimes I do like to commune with nature.

OK, I give up. Too damn cold out there. This *is* Northern Ontario, my dear.

I'm also going to admit that I've been living in fantasy land for the past two days. One day without internet, because for some reason, it's completely normal that phone lines go out around here. Again, accountability. It's fixed now. Strange how indifferent I was to the whole thing. Happy in my little fake fantasy life. Comfy, there. I've been, many times before.

I have to leave, though. I get to comfortable there, I like it too much and when I'm kicked out, that's when I get cranky. No fun being forced back into reality, I might as well do it myself. Amazing how a few little, tiny words unravel me for a little while. Pleasant, but not real, I don't think. I do not really know what is real, and what's not. Just sorta guessing.

I want to get struck by lightening!!! but the storm is too far away from where I am.

The leaves are mostly stripped from the trees. Naked in wait for heavy snow. It makes the trees creak, rub against one another for company. Marble, the old terrier is chewing on rawhide, and Buckley, the young terrier is squeaking because he wants what is not his. Ironic, when I compare that to my own life, really. Heh.

News from the South with respect to a job. Getting back to work really appeals to me now. I'm just eager to get back. to . it. Another step in achieving unawareness. Work, sleep, watch movies, walking the dogs. That is what it will be like. No more of the existential bullshit, just fucks with you head. Heh, literally.

I'm thinking Number 27 at the Vietnam restaurant and Springbank park. It occurs to me that I'm the grass-is-always-greener girl.

green door
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Whoa. Head is in overdrive today. Thinking about email and the news it can bring, and how I say things way too quickly. Wanting to get the middle of something before I've even unwrapped the package, taken off the bow.

Always in a hurry.

Drawing today. Charcoal in clean, non messy pencil format. The last time I used it raw, I ended up with charcoal in the grooves of my fingers for two days, no matter how hard I scrubbed.

Now, I'm watching Evil Dead II and drinking Black Cherry soda. Thinking about brown eyes. Apartments in London. Hiding my dogs from landlords. Having a living room to dance around in again. Pink carnations.

Bruce Campbell has apparently made a new movie. Something about his going to a town that happens to be taken over by demons. Towns people make him fight, despite the fact he is.....just Bruce Campbell and not Ash from the 1980's. I think I'll like it. Maybe I'll watch Bubba Ho-tep next.

No Bob Dylan tickets for me. *sigh*
maybe in another life.

I'm just thinking of this conversation I had at my art group last week. Pete said something about Burning Man, and we joked how we could have a tiny little one to burn in effigy, behind a building or something, away from the prying eyes of the everlasting police service in Sudbury.

But then I said that the only people who know about Burning Man, are probably sitting at this table right now. We laughed heartily and drank more beer (I had water).

A couple of things on my mind today. Actually a lot, but most of it is unrecognisable in the mess that is my head. First, Halloween's party thing at the Townehouse is on Saturday. I've been excited about this since August. And here we are, a few days away. White CowBell Oklahoma ( http://www.whitecowbell.com/ ) is playing and it's supposed to be quite a show. And my costume, which isn't quite put together yet....That may or may not be solved on Saturday morning. Oh and P.Lo posted this huge image (for the event) on my comment section...Like seriously big....I guess that means I guess I'm expected to go.

Another thing in my head, is a few emails that have came my way this evening, which does 2 things. One, tells me there is always hope of some kind. Two, Is anything ever really over?? And that's it. For now.

I was told to blog today because something would come out of it. But, I really really forgot my user name, password, etc. I had to resort to emailing the tech people and tell me what the Eff the info is. They did and now I've got it on a post-it and I will never forget again. Ta-Da!!!

So logged in, and email that makes me think, party on friday night, party of Saturday night.

OK OK OK , I'm blogging:

let's just leave it with that.

And I will be in London when the snows come down in November. Job sorted out, Apartment located. All I'll have to do is start packing the interesting stuff.

Something is laying in wait for me there....I can feel it.

red
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I remember when things were easy, like writing in your journal, posting pictures, getting them off you brand spanking new Sony Alpha, having a reliable memory to check the box to see if the usb cable is in there....

*sigh*
the good ol' days.

Everything I mentioned, is something I cannot do right now. For one thing, I've already forgotten the password for Blogger, so I now update through flicker, using the favourite photo of the day.

I've also not been able to get the photos off the camera because surprise....I don't have a proper usb cable because we had to pack my new camera in a different box to fit all the little 'extras' I'd gotten in, with it. And the usb cable has been misplaced in the shuffle.

It's kind of funny, because I also lost the power adapter for my older Sony camera somewhere......I *have* to get back on track, I think all this stillness inside my head and around me, is making me more nuts.

Which brings me to the second part of th update. I'm seriously thinking about moving back to London because...I miss it. And the park, oh the park...I miss that too. I miss my sister, my friends, my nephews (I am going to worm my way back into their father's heart somehow so I can see them), and the other nephew, the new mini.

I want to get back to work, and attempt to be 'normal' again. You know, with a savings account, a kickass apartment, and matching dinner ware. I'm going to do my best to get back to that level of awareness. I hope to get to New York city eventually.

Oh, and the picture above...that's Hawksley Workman at a show from last Spring. Front row seats, we were sitting five feet away from him. I was so embarrased to be sitting face to face with him. I felt I was 10 years too late, and should be wearing neon pink legwarmers and a extreme left ponytail. You know what I mean, the screaming girly fans that stare up at the performer like he's the second coming.

I'm too old for that now.
:)

fearless
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I thought that noon was early, but when I woke this morning at 6 and couldn't get back to sleep, I discovered a new early.

So, instead of wasting my time as generously as possible, I uploaded a couple of photos that I really like. This one, shown above was taken in London this past Spring. My last 'big' show before I dropped my basket.

What was that line from that song...? "I dont' know where I'm going, but I know where I've been..."
That about sums it up for how I feel today. This morning, this hour, that minute ago.

Sad, from last night, looking at pictures of my nephews who I haven't been able to see since Fall of last year. Sad, because they probably hate me by now because I never came back for them. Sad, because they are like gold, and no one seems to know but me. Sad.

In my fitful hours of sleep last night, I dreamed that Matt Good played the Townehouse. I drank beer with he and Michael Moore (whom I've never really 'gotten). Some cranky lady named, Victoria kept trying to edge me out...so I left and went back to the studio, only to discover it was completely changed around.

Sometimes, my dreams are not what I'd call...lucid.

I'm going to the gym now, because I feel like I can evaporate in the steam room.

want
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

It's hard for me to articulate what I want, because I don't seem to want a whole lot, these days. So, when I do want something, it surprises me how strong the urge is.

That's where I go to lose my head, sometimes. I've never been found.

So I'm up early (yes, noon is early) and my internet security thing wouldn't let me access the internet until now. I'm sitting here in my underpants, freezing because I think it might be actually cold outside today.Makes me want to hop back into bed, where it's warm. Beds are like wombs, I think. Supposedly safe and where you are protected.
nuts.

Fake friends, I turn my face away. It doesn't help me to have people hanging on to my fringes for needless conversation. Either you're in it, or you're not. So simple. But I know I'm demanding.

Beebs is back with me. I'd post a photo of her lounging on the sette, but my resizing program shuts down when I try to load up new photos. And really.....I haven't picked up my camera all week.

Maybe I found another vein of Being in my marbled backdrop of emotions that live in my head/heart.
Like a heart beat.

the new 18
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

That's what someone told me 30 was. I was all ready to write this "eternal sunshine of the spotless mnd" entry but I became distracted by....whatever. It always happens.

OH, and I was thinking about love, and how it has different levels, or strengths. So, theoretically, you can love a whole bunch of different people, in different ways, at the same time. No rules. blah, blah, blah.

Me, I'm not into that, I think. In a perfect world, I would like someone who can't take his eyes off of me, can't wait to spend time with me, does little nutty things that I would 'get'. Gives me extra blankets. Writes love letters. gets lost when I need space. long list of stuff.

But, I've become convinced that only happens for the beautiful people in movies and timeless 'romance' stories. Because I've never met anyone who has that kind of love. Seems to me, it's very hard work. And some people just aren't cut out for hard work. Know what I mean? Well, I do.

*switch*
I'm going to buy the biggest sketch pad tomorrow, and dust off the charcoal. I already know which sketch pad that will be mine.

I already know...

untitled
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

That's what that is called. I used to have something in my head floating around about cold water woman, feminist thing. But I couldn't decide so called it Untitled. I think I painted it in 2003, or 2004.

Macintosh apples are in season. This is the time they are crispy and sweet, cold. Usually I have Cortlands. Those are the best. I know that I just veered off into a discussion on apples. Ok, done.

This piece was featured in the Northern Life on Friday. That's a local Sudbury newspaper, very community based. Of all three pieces on show right now, I was surprised this piece was chosen. But it did give me a warm feeling, like I'd just had a glass of brandy.

On another note, I was going to write about the freedom of art. That regardless of the subject matter (which really should be considered irrelevant), that if the art invokes a feeling (good or bad) from the viewer, then the piece is successful.

The thing I have an issue with is when people insist on castrating the artist for being so honest, so willing, and so brave for putting his/her feelings into a piece of art. And displaying it.

To think of one man steeped in controversy in another time, that some think it's ok to keep banging at his door, demanding answers. It makes me question my faith (what little there is left) in the good of people.

For me, art is very simple.

Buckley
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Here is Buckely. I can't remember if I've posted a photo of him here, but here is a new one. I've become embroiled in Flickr.com and all of a sudden, BOOM. I can post photos and talk about them. Without all of the other ho-haw that I had to go through to host and resize, etc...

Let's see how well this works. I need Buckley in some way that I can't identify. My first problem with him is what some people call "A replacement", my step father felt so awful after my original cairn, Henry, died a very premature death.

My other problem, is how much I love him. Despite the fact that he crawls on top of my pillow to sleep. Chews up my socks, has boundless energy, thinks sleep time is over at the break of dawn.

danger: simpering bragging about one of my dogs.

I sometimes think that Buckley was meant to be my dog, and that Henry opened that up for Buckley to be accepted in my parents household. Buckley was this tiny, runt of the litter with a black mask.

As soon as we met, he had to nestle his face in my hair and stayed there until we got home. NOw, he barks tiny barks to wake me up so he can chase the leaves outside. He is continually badgers my 14 year old Marble into playing with him.

The two of them, hold the sum of my part together.

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

Sleeping has become this bloody battleground. I take the stance of someone working in prevention. No caffeine, no naps, lie in the dark and recite the states in the U.S, in alphabetical order, etc, etc.

Alas, I'm no better for it, thus far.

I've called a truce and am having a party for my two puppies, with fried chicken and pepsi. All they get to do is chill out with me while I watch Law & Order and snuggle when they're tired. Buckley is currently trying to finish off the last of the little deadite collection I had gotten last week. Seems the pit witch wasn't enough.

I get a message this afternoon advising I should look at today's edition of the local paper. So I did. Turns out one of my paintings I have in a local exhibit was featured in the arts write-up.
It feels guilty to feel good, sometimes.

I'll get over it.
Anyway, back to the front.

Every time I sign in somewhere, I hold my breath until I'm logged in. I'm almost always sure it's the wrong password, or maybe I don't exist in the internet world anymore.

But no. I'm still here, figuratively speaking at least.

Whole wheat pasta and sauce today. Not hungry. The rain is cold and I just want to lounge in the 1000 threads per square inch egyptian cotton sheets I ordered a few months ago. They came yesterday. White sheets. Perfect to be a ghost in.

The flavoured water is a constant. and some blue pills. Two different kinds now to go numb. Today is a good day to be numb.

Haven't painted anything since the show. Tired of being on the Island like some kind of private mental hospital in my mother's home. And I've got some art in my mind, someone else's. So honest that it shocks me. It's not the subject manner, it's the honesty. With everyone to see.

I wonder if I could pull that off.....

All evening, in between my sunday afternoon (which are a day late due to the holiday) activities, which in my world doesn't really matter anymore. No frothy coffees at a local Chapters, no reading the weekend edition of the newspaper in bed with toast. No walking of Marble in Spring Bank park.

I know. I know. Everyone tells me I can do the same things anywhere. But it turns out, it's not the same. The feelings generated from completing those tasks isn't the feeling I used to get. There's no satisfaction.

Tonight, my first task will be to take a sleeping pill, eat some popcorn and read the new Fiona Walker book I picked up at Chapters last week. I will read until sleepy. I will then put on Identity and fall asleep while it's on.

I know it sounds pathetic, and neurotic. But, if I manage to do this without waking up at 3 in the morning, unable to fall asleep again, contemplating the meaning of life. Then I know. I feel that I will be somewhat satisfied.

My new favourite photograph is one Matt took himself. It's called Lorazepam Angel.
I can't articulate what it means to me that someone else on this planet who has everything...is in the same kind of state I am.

Labels: habits, neurotic

as in, what the fuck does it all mean?
I think I've got that bit figured out. I think everything means really, nothing. That we're these bad, locust-like, animals that are on our way out. And then we die as people, and go to wherever we hope to go. And that's it.

There isn't some big tribunal at the end of our lives that judges us for our sins or lack of them. No 'bigger picture' that as individuals, we are talking part in. I mean, other than the evolution of life. But who's concerned about that, on a daily basis? Not me. I don't particularly care if humans evolve to something that has built-in speakers for 24 hour a day music feed. Or just with an extra arm that allow us to do three things at once. That doesn't matter to me.

But interestingly enough, I wonder what happens to someone like me when they've come to this conclusion. Could it be game over? Or is there something else....that I could believe in enough to take part in.

So, the part that I've not figured out, is the bit around what do to after you've figured out the 1st bit. What to do, what to do....

Yeah, I'm stuck in that circle of thought for now. It's like wondering what the hell can I do now?

I used to have a crush. It lasted about 5 days. Since then, I've been wandering around the planet in a green funk, no will to live.

Ok, that's mostly a lie. Having never been able to get past the "I have a crush" stage, I realise there is hardly any fodder here for me to spread about, on the area of my (non-existent) love life. Not for lack of offers, I suppose. But would the word, 'viable' fit in there somewhere? Of course. But I'm not telling, where.

Instead, it's the night before the reception for the art show I'm in, and I've still got nothing to wear. Or anything I've decided upon, I mean. The home front is a battlefield, one I'm all to familiar with and I have no allies coming over the hill to save me.

I hate when that happens.

It's almost as common as an unanswered email, which I also hate. I'm not sure why. One could picture the entire thing as a conversation, in which leaving in the middle of would be considered rude. Right? I'm not sure.

And also, pay no attention to this post. I'm somewhat giddy on Tylenol cold medicine and not enough (or too much) sleep. So, everything is swirling around in the "i dont care" part of my head.

Tomorrow will be interesting. At least, to an observer.

Since I've been trying to be steady on my feet, time has sped by, like it's greased. And I don't manage my time well anyway, so it's like some kind of double whammy. Getting paintings ready to show, and setting up the studio, figuring out the meaning of life without the help of Monty Python, going to shows, staying up all night, etc, etc

I've been watching the Six Feet Under episodes I like, eating pecan clusters and looking over my schedule for the next week. I found this thing on the internet to help organise my appointments and 'must get to' things. Hopefully, it works.

Someone told me recently that when you remember birthdays and dates, it means you care for others. I always blamed my lack of ability to remember things on a poor memory, but maybe it was because I didn't give a shit about anything. And maybe I'm trying to, now.

Try harder. Try again.

That's what a friend said. Made sense to me, at the time.

My feet will be under the sheets tonight, it's Joy Division weather again. Especially here, in the north, things are frostier, foggier, more wild. My high heels don't go over very well around here, they seem pretentious. I feel like I ought to be armed with knee-high fur trimmed boots. So I can stomp around like I mean it, and pretend that I'm fitting in. square peg.

Although, I do know one thing for sure: I absoutely don't care if I'm fitting in. Fuck all that business. Plans seem to be working out, things going at the speed of life. Might as well just...keep doing what I'm doing. I guess.

I joined DeviantArt, and once I figure things out there, I'll be posting my work regularly. My dad tells me I ought to have something to give out to potential customers, but business cards seem sort of the opposite to art. Know what I mean? We'll see, I suppose.

Wish my new high heeled boots would be here in time for the art show reception. *sigh*