Sorting and Packing

If I make it through this I may be able to post actual created work again.  Imagine that.


Looking at air fare to New York.  One way ticket, don't think I could ever come back.  Portland is my home, and this house.  Born in Vallejo, first four years there, but this is my home.  Can't afford it here.  At least one person in my family I never want to see again, too.  Trying to buy some time before I have to go.  May have as little as a month left.  Hopefully more.  Wanted to see Dana again in person.

Hoping to go to Franklin again on Sunday, see if the dedication plaque is up yet.  Try to get a  photo to post.  'Buy-a-Brick" campaign.  Dana's name is on it, and Lori Hamilton's.  I found my Franklin Class of 1984 sweater with all the names on it.  Still have the Kellogg yearbooks.  Dracula poster signed by everyone.

My high school timeline gets muddy in memory now.  When did I draw Kristina Burley?  I think I was already falling for Dana, though I'd been deeply in love with Kris since 5th grade (Mr. Sherrel's homeroom, the portable out back of the  school).  A lot of people knew I was drawing Kristina, but it was only Dana who intuited that I chose Kris because I felt something for her.   I remember her asking me, "You like her, don't you?"  "Yeah.  I do."  "No, I mean...you like her."  "...yeah."

I also think it was around then I was overhearing the girls in another class talking about how Dana was impressing them in The Music Man rehearsals, and I felt a mix of...I'm not sure what exactly, except that I was proud for her.   Or maybe it was a little later I drew Kris, when I had taken a part in The Time of Your Life, if for some reason I had similarly won a spot on Dana's radar.

Kristina still appears in my dreams from time to time, but then she would as she was the first I ever fell in love with and so she became part of the dream-vocabulary of my subconscious.  I was over her a long time ago but the fondness and warm memories are there.  She's a kind of avatar for those feelings.  Sometimes she appears as a proxy.  I dreamt of her a few months ago...as the dream was fading out, she asked me how I was doing.  She didn't look much like Kris anymore by that point in the dream, though.  She was looking a lot like Dana. 

There was a woman who looked a bit like Kris at the Franklin re-opening.  Her eyes, especially.  Kris had the face of an angel.

I recall one time in February '88 that Lori Hamilton was going to come see me to talk to me about her disappearance and her time in L.A.   I had been severely depressed, suicidal.  Hadn't seen Lori for some three years.  An hour or so before she was meant to arrive I was standing at street's edge to cross for the mail.  In my peripheral awareness a car was passing, driving too slow to be regular traffic, but then sped up as it came abreast of me... and I'd have sworn the woman driving was looking at me - and looked like Lori.  But it was only a fleeting impression.  And I still wonder whether she saw me standing there and got spooked.  Maybe it wasn't her at all.  Anyway, she never showed up that day or after.  She didn't call to say she'd try again.

I saw Lori just once more after that time she did or didn't drive past.  Bobby Jackson's band Blind Push was playing a gig at a bar and he invited me.  Lori was there.  She was happy to see me, and she knew I was happy to see her...but I gave her the space to walk over and talk to me.  She didn't.   That was the last I ever saw or heard from her.  I loved her too, I fell pretty hard.  I'd still like to have her in my life again as a friend, and I wonder what it would be like to spend an afternoon talking with her.  She was a spiritual nomad, I wonder where her life has taken her.

******************
(Dream, morning, October 26th)  I'm in  a public diner or cafeteria, sitting at the center of one side of a long table which is filling as the members of a specific group arrive.  Our table is in the corner of the place, so we are surrounded on two sides by glass walls.  It's daylight, in an urban or suburban setting, business district, all concrete paving.  The group has already been in existence for a short time without me, has met several times, but some of them are longtime friends and they have always considered me a member of the group from the beginning even in my absence.   Someone new arrives, invited to join.  He is very neat, dapper,  with dark short wavy/curly hair, very much a business type, and when he sits he begins a dialog with me.  He's bright, outgoing, cheerful.  I can't recall any of the conversation.  He sits at the end of the table to my left, either on the opposite side or literally at the table's end.  We shake hands, he gives his name which I don't catch, and I offer mine.  He says "Name?" as if I've confused him.  I say, "Well, you can use anything you want, really."  By this I mean he can apply my name to whatever he likes, but realize he might hear that as he  can call me anything.

There is a shift in time, more have arrived and the table is just about full.  I have moved to the right end of the table to make room.  A sign in front of me on the table indicates that the group is launching a podcast.  The new guy at the left end is saying something (I no longer remember) about his nature being malleable, that he changes.  He then goes outside, and I watch him through the windows as he begins to dance in ways that seems out of character.  He seems to enjoy his dancing.  No one but me is paying any attention, but I point him out to a female friend sitting at my immediate left and say that I think this guy is going to be really interesting - as long as he's not turning into someone hostile.

The guy comes back in and looks completely different.  He's shorter, younger, rounder of face, hair is longer and straight, now more red than brown.  His clothing has changed, very Mediaeval peasant, loose-fitting (suggestive of a very artsy stereotype).  He sits directly opposite me at the far right end of the table and his demeanor is markedly hostile - though like before he devotes his attention solely to me, like I present a problem he needs to understand.  Again, too much of the conversation is lost, but he challenges me with remarks and I try to address them openly and in a non-combative way.  I tell him that when he  said his nature is fluid I believed him.  He says to me that mine is not, both a statement and a question.  I reply, "Probably".  He's not sure if he's right, and I'm not sure what the question refers to - what specifically he needs to know.  Then his demeanor changes. He's been defiant, but I see this now as defensive, as he willfully drops his guard and asks if he can ask a question.  Now he looks uncertain and vulnerable.  He asks me, "Could I get your heart wrong?"  Dream ends there.

I'm sure I heard "Could I get", not the more sensible "Did I get".  Maybe 'could I have gotten'?  Any number of things point to this person being Dana, the most tangible being the hair.  Still, didn't get a sense of her presence while dreaming so it's probably an extrapolation from inside my own imagination. I wish I could recall the rest of what was said, it might have been important. 

Did she get my heart wrong?  Only she knows.  She's never told me what it is she sees in my heart - malice, love, compassion, weakness, I don't know.  It doesn't look like she's ever going to tell me. That too makes it hurt worse: I lost her and I will never even really know why.  Will she get my heart wrong?

As coincidences go I keep getting nods to one of the other reconciliation dreams, including motifs of dancing, rooms lit in red, and a piano. That dream of long ago has been very much on my mind, so I'm very sensitive to any iteration of those elements.  If they appear, I'm going to spot them and magnify them in my awareness. That leads to hope, which is killing me.  Dana's rebreaking my heart all over again.

I've been getting the feeling Dana hasn't even been looking at her FB account at all, never even saw my replies.  I think the dream of the woman on the ocean liner* re-enforced a notion that Dana had to get away.  Immediately prior to this dream I had a dreamlet flash of a PM someone sent (not necessarily to me) which consisted of three words, the only clear one being HOME.  Emphasized, was seeing it in all caps.  I think another was 'again'.  Suggestion was 'arrived home again'.  Wondered if home meant California or Portland.

*In personal notes, not posted.

Fuck the Past

It's been two weeks.  Time is messing with my head.  With mom I wonder how it could have been two weeks already, it feels like yesterday.  But with Dana every passing day feels like weeks.  It had to take a lot for her to say anything, so I know maybe she'd need time to let that register before she'd even want to see if I responded.  I get that intellectually but emotionally it's eating me alive.  I think she still wants that distance, and I think she wants it permanently.

Moony might be coming over towards the end of the week unless something comes up he needs to attend to.

Scott's having trouble too.  I don't want to take his attention away from home, he's needed there.  Jesseca is needed with her mom.  I'm here for them for as much help as I can be.  Seems like moral support is the best I can do right now, just be here for them to sound off to.

I keep fearing Dana will say that the moment for a reconciliation has passed and we missed it.  I want to say fuck the past, I want to be a part of her present and her in mine.

Did I mention already?  Mom enjoyed watching auto racing.  A week ago from last weekend my sister was getting up from a chair in the living room (remote not in hand) when the TV turned itself on, switched to a channel with NASCAR.

Keep feeling like I'm having a blood-sugar low but my numbers are always okay when I check.

I've had three more pieces of major bad news tonight.  I don't want to elaborate.  One involves the husband of a niece. 

Just been told - er, the upshot is no more art of any kind until this is settled.  Unbelieveable.  It's not natural the way this keeps piling up.  Can't help noticing, it's everyone who might be able to help me get out of this alive that gets hurt.

**********
Had a dream of a frog that spoke to me. Jesseca advises that frogs are a big thing in Modern-Tradition British Witchcraft and that I may have been contacted by a spirit guide.  The frog said "Look out for the broken one".  "Look out for" can be interpreted not as a warning but as an instruction to be protective or compassionate.  Within moments of our exchange, a post popped up on Jesseca's FB feed proclaiming "I'm not as O.K. as I pretend to be."  It came from a site titled "Broken", and the poster was not someone she knows directly.  I can't help but wonder if I'm being advised to be extra careful with Dana, though I never thought of her as broken.  I've always felt protective toward her, but I've also always wondered if she doesn't much care for people taking that attitude.  She's very private.

There are other aspects of the dream symbolism I need to consider, introducing much ambiguity, but none of it apparently indicates Dana.

Edit: My sister just described herself as "emotionally broken".  She wants to sell the house quickly and doesn't think I should keep my belongings.  Worse, I suspect she thinks my stuff should be sold along with everything else, the profits of which are to  be divided.  That can't be right.  So, yeah, I do have to look out for my own future.  I want my stuff but if it has to be sold, dammit, that's my money to live off of - as little as it will last!

Tried a melatonin pill last night.  Dropped off right away but slept less.

***********
I sent Dana a friend request.  Was going to wait 'til she gave me permission, but she's breaking my heart all over  again.  I noticed the last time she posted to FB was early June.  What was the date?  The 8th or something like that.  I just noticed from my own notes that the last time Dana appeared in any of my dreams  was the 8th of June.  Cutting and pasting:  "Thursday, June 8th.  Three hypnagogic flashes.  One was of Dana's face, beaming with joy.  She was wearing a crown (slightly tilted to her right), and she seemed to be looking at me.  This was quickly followed to by more of her face, in close proximity to me,  happy and without the crown."  Tiara doesn't make sense.  Detail points to Tammy, not Dana.

She had appeared a few days earlier: "Saturday, June 3rd.  Had a dream I was at a shopping mall with Dana.  She had short hair and a mid-light blue outfit that included a short jacket, tight  at the waist, in a checked pattern.  First we were in a music store, I bought four LPs - one of the album jackets folded out to become an actual wearable jacket.  (Hmm,  lot of emphasis on jackets here...) , then we headed into the crowd and down a narrow flight of stairs where she chose a restaurant and took a booth.  We were both having a good time."

On July 24th I dreamt of Lori Hamilton, and couldn't tell if it was meant to be Lori or a proxy for Dana.  "This morning (July 24th) I dreamt of Lori Hamilton (who looked like herself throughout, wearing faded jeans and running shoes).   We sat on the kitchen floor together, her leaning back against the oven.  Funny thing was, from her POV I was only there as a psychic transmission in her mind.  She could hear me though she didn't speak.  She held a large, hardbound book, and I had to guide her to hold it so that I could see the pages.  Across the pages was a live moving image of her as she sat before me, holding the book (imagine the book as a laptop, I guess, and my eyes the camera feeding it the image).  Then I was sitting closer and the book was gone, and maybe she was aware of my corporeal presence...she raised her right foot and rested her ankle on my shoulder, leg to my cheek, her left around my other side.  Her silence and expression were melancholic.  I gently kissed her leg, and caressed the outside of her left.  It was a profoundly intimate moment, and I wanted to make my caresses more erotic but was afraid of doing the wrong thing by her.  Her gesture contained an inherent eroticism but it seemed half-hearted, her mood seemed more sad than anything, like I was on her mind and she missed me."

The Bonfire of Inanities

Have prepped a page to draw or sketch Ilhan Omar.   Think I wanna do it in pencil, but it's in a sketchbook so not quality paper for a finished work.  I'll try to consciously be less detail-strict and focus on the feeling, the textures.  Small so it's less intimidating.  Finished a painting for one of my sisters, but not my kinda thing.    Working on a platform for cone incense, because they won't burn if air is cut off from the bottom.  I've taken some screening and wired it to a plumbing slip nut.  Over that I've baked some Pluffy.  That's uneven but can be made to look nice by dding asymmetrical details in putty - say, vines/leaves and clusters of grapes, or leaves and ladybugs.  You could do that with clay in the appropriate colors, I'd prefer grey putty and enamel paints.  Because the mesh allows ash to fall through, it can be set on a brass platform for candles.

I'm moving out of one darkness a little (my broken friendship with Dana, having at least finally been able to say to her the most important things), have faced the second (my mom passing), and am still in the middle of the third (fearing for a roof over my head).  As for the first two, I'm still alive.   When I do get a little sleep at night most of my dreams are dull and innocuous.  No Dana in them.  But then I wake up and I suddenly remember that mom is gone, and remember the situation.   The shelter of the room and blankets no longer feel real.  Most nights are like that now, I get more sleep only when my body forces it.  Most nights dreams are forgettable and neutral.  Tuesday or Wednesday night was puntuated by miserable nightmares of loss, one each of the four times I slept.  Fucking long night. 

I am - maybe?  sorta? - at a place where I'm thinking this is survivable.  I just don't see anything good coming.  Nothing that will be worth it.  Just more whitling away at my life.  New York is so far off.  Meanwhile I keep trying to part with things are a part of me.  Things my mom gave me, things I created, aspirations I'd had and have been trying to achieve. 

I'm not suicidal, which is surprising.  Wish I'd get hit by a car, though.  Struck by lightning maybe.  Just scared and dealing with grief a moment at a time.  Wishing I didn't have a greedy, grasping, lying brother making this as difficult as he possibly can...his behavior is bordering on sociopathy.  I think he wants us to sell the house so he can buy it in order to either flip it or give it to one or both of his own kids.  Anything to get us out of it.  Family meeting had some choice word for and about him.  I tried telling him on the phone yesterday, and he refused to hear it: however he thinks he's coming across, he's not*.  He's got a perception problem, and it stems from himself.  No one in the family can figure him out, we all think he's crazy.  If what he hears doesn't suit the narrative he wants to cling to, it's fake news and we're all lying and out to get him.  Sounds a lot like a certain criminal POS he voted for.  (That's not a right or left thing, ANY of the other candidates would have made more sense.)

*I imagine Dana could say the same of me, exept that I'm willing to listen.

I do still hope Dana will share with me what she's been through and tell me of her path out of it.   I want to hear that things are good for her now, and it would be so good to hear it right from her.  I want to see her smile.


Well, whatever happens Dana did right by me.  She saved my life, I think, and she did finally reach out to me.    I'm not abandoning hope of her doing it again.  And I'm not falling out of love with her.  I wouldn't know how.

Will have new glasses finally in ten days.  Progressive lenses, never had before so will take getting used to.

Haircut is growing out.  Instead of looking like one of Trump's thugs, now I look like a muppet.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Edit, Saturday morning.  One of my nieces has bi-polar disorder.  Between the loss of her adoring grandparents and the abuse of her so-called boyfriend, she had a bad low last night and called out to Karla for help.  As of this morning I haven't heard word back yet.  Karen said she might have to go to the hospital.

Her young daughter Katie fell out of a playground swing the very day mom passed, broke both her forearms.  My friend Scott, his father was badly injured a few days go (recovering).  Jesseca's mom's car flipped over a few days ago.  I have urged Jesseca several times to please do a protection spell for herself.  I'm not kidding about it.

***********************
My niece is...I don't know, it's too early to say she's doing better but she's still with us.  She's considering her options on how to proceed for the next few weeks.  Another close one.  No one in my family is getting much of a break, no day to rest, to wrap ourselves in a semblence of peace. 

I'll try to work on Ilhan tonight.
 
Time has become inconstant.  At least I'm not Billy Pilgrim.

I dreamt a prophecy, dreamt it over and over.  Dreamt of the recconciliation before there ever was a rift.  A few weeks ago I heard a hypnapompic voice in my halfsleep say "It's coming true".  I didn't know if it referred to Dana coming back to me.

If this was it, if this is all shell give me, then the prophecy was a broken promise.

Most of those dreams came while she was still in Portland.  One was a day or so before Thanksgiving, a year in the early Nineties.  In the dream, I am home by myself as my parents are elsewhere.  A car pulls u the driveway, the one Dana used to drive to school.  her father is driving.  I  step  out on the porch and we meet there face to face.  The dream ends before we speak, as the first snow of the year is falling. 

I was always half afraid of that dream because the universal interpretation of snowfall as a metaphor is death.

The night before mom died I dreamt that she and I could see the snowstorm arriving.

Dana reached out as the snow fell.  But I don't sense her presence anymore.  I think she's chosen to be gone again.  I thought for a moment, for a day or two, that the pageview stats might mean her, but now I'm crashing again.  I think some good friends from Dark Discussions might have looked in. (waves!) (I wonder where Mr. E 2 Me is these days?)

Dana, you asked me not to rob "us" of my gift.  You are a gift, your friendship, your presence...you.  So I ask the same.  That's fair, isn't it?  Don't ask of me what you are not willing to give.   I've never accepted you as  anything other than you.  Don't be afraid to let me know you.  

I know you believe in yourself, and I'm so proud of you.  I don't have the first clue what you had to pay to win that.  I hope it wasn't so much that you have no room in your heart to let me believe in you too, at your side. You opened the door once already.  You don't have to run away before the person on the other side can see you.

Whatever your darkness you spoke of or your demons, I can take them.  If that's the problem. That's one of my strengths.  Trust me that much.   Don't rob me of everything else over fear of those.  That's such a tragic waste.  I am your friend above all else.

(ugh.  There's a reason I'm crashing.  It's a song I was listening to a few hours ago, 'I Bet My Life'.  "Remember when I broke you down to tears ...
never in my wildest dreams
Would I come running home to you"
I never want to hear that song again.  Fuck.  This is a song written by someone who just plain ran, who didn't bother to find out what his lover could accept or even thought.  Someone who never lent an ounce of trust.)

(later)  I get that the song is a plea for understanding, but...you don't get to have it both ways.  If your plan is to leave the person you hurt in hell, then stop acting as if you care.  You  don't get forgivenes just so you can keep on hurting someone.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jesus, Central Eastern Multnomah County is under a flash flood warning and are being told to evacuate.  I'm in SE Multnomah, somewhat higher elevation and should be safe.  Hope those people are okay.

Restarting Ilhan, the page got a bad crease in it.  Maybe I could use it to practice watercolor pencils though.  Pretty thin paper for it but it's just a practice piece.

Dana, you did help at the darkest hour of my life. More than you'll ever know.  I know It was heartfelt.  I must mean something to you.  You reached out, and you meant it.  Please don't disappear again, I'm still in the middle of this.

Being loved really does frighten you, doesn't it?  God I wish I understood you.  Please let me try to understand you.

And - well, I mean, sticking with my understanding that may be way wrong - you're so sure I wanted no part of it.  That I wouldn't have backed you, or would have chosen not to be at your side good and bad.  Biggest fucking facepalm in history and you don't even know it.  Because you didn't ask, Dana, you never dared to find out.  I get that you couldn't then.  But  you're still not asking me anything now.  Don't you have questions?  Do you think you have it all figured out?  Cuz i sure the fuck don't.


You told me to keep reaching out.  You probably meant in general, but I'm hoping you also meant keep reaching out to you.

Still writing books, aren't I?  You called the letters I used to write books.  I'd love one from you. ❤


Hey...y'know, I'm in pretty bad need of money, you could commission a drawing...? Not  a terrible  way to break the ice, get past the wall.  I love your hair in copper, btw.

There have been times I wasn't sure if you were worth all this.  I know it now, you are.  Please put this right.

Still spiraling

Thanks my piece of shit brother, a vulture, we are being forced to hire an estate agent.  I expect to be forced out soon.  Nowhere to store my belongings, and  as far as I know of nowhere to move to.

See, I was trying to get some artwork done today to sell.  Every fucking thing I do to try to get out of this I get punished for.  I spent all day yesterday working towards a job only to find public transit cannot get me there for the shifts offered.

Dana is not looking in here or FB.  I failed that too.

Sexual predation, Weinstein, and supporting the Me Too wave

I seem to have stepped in it again.  Not with Dana this time, at least.

With the outing of Harvey Weinstein as a monster, women everywhere are speaking up in solidarity. It's the Me Too movement, growing like a tsunami.  I hope it sweeps the world.

This is not a time for men to be speaking.  This is a time for men to be listening.  That said, men need to be openly supportive of this tidal wave.  Stand up.

I've known three women in my life who were sexually molested, two more who probably were but haven't told me so, and the odds  are I've known even more without being aware of it.  Two of my nieces were stalked by a known rapist as they traveled to and from grade school.  Fortunately, they were never touched as the family grew vigilant.

One of these women posted a "Me Too" to Facebook.  I didn't feel right about commenting (besides which, what would I say?)  but also felt it wrong to do what so many do - ignore it.  Ignoring it is part of the problem, part of the culture that allows predation to continue.  So I joined the dozens who gave a 'thumbs-up' like in support.

This morning the post was invisible, and I had a message from Facebook advising me on privacy issues.  So, I'm a bit confused and not sure why I was wrong, only that I apparently was.  Not complaining, I want to do  right by my friend.  The lecture didn't illuminate the situation, advising that should the author of the comment choose to make it public then my support would be public as well - and, gosh,  wouldn't I find that embarrassing?

Ummm...no.  FUCK no!  Goddammit, fuck no!!  No I am not embarrassed to stand against sexual predators and the conspiracy of silence that abets them.  What I'm embarrassed by and ashamed of is having possibly hurt someone I care about by being clumsily intrusive on a matter that is deeply  personal and painful.  I'm proud of her for standing up and speaking out.

(edit) Here's something worth reading, an article by Wagatwe Sara Wanjuki on why she made the personal choice not to join the Me Too movement.  She supports it, but feels the focus is mistaken.  The basis for her choice is a belief that men already know how widespread the problem is and do nothing about it.  I disagree with her belief, I think most men are truly blind to it.  Still, her piece speaks to a concern of mine, which is getting men into the discussion of how to address it.  The commentary section is very much worth consideration.  See, I'm hoping the Me Too wave keeps building until it can no longer be denied.

Mom has gone.

Tuesday.  Was going to post about it but I don't have the heart.  I spent it on Facebook, and what I didn't say there I told Jesseca.  I would share it with Dana if she asked. 

I still don't have the sense Dana has any plan to continue talking with me.  Okay.  Well, no, not okay, but nothing I can do about it. I'm determined not to ask or comment to her again, since that's the space she needs.  I didn't say all that I wanted to, but for a moment we were speaking to each other.  It's still surreal.  And cherished.  I said what was important maybe, which is simply that she means everything to me and I care about her, and she can talk with me if she decides to.  I've been saying that for thirty years, but this time she heard it.  That's...that's a lot.  For her to have spoken to me at all is tremendous.

Dana still has the drawing I did of her.  I thought she'd have thrown that away long ago.  I don't know what to think.  I must still have some meaning for her?

Anyway, she's proven to herself that she can talk to me.  She doesn't have to talk about anything she doesn't want to touch on.  I am absolutely here for her.  She just has to reach out.  She did it once, she can do it again.  I'm here.  I'm proud of her, I'm her friend, and I love her.

Oh, Dana, please don't pull away again now.  Not now.  We're so close.  At least, finally explain to me why you won't talk to me.


Hoping Dana will extend an invitation/friend request.


Still watching the fires.  None near San Mateo but the air has to be unbreathable.  She must have people she cares about in danger spots, hope they made it out.  I wish someone would tell me if she's okay.  I won't ask mutual contact  Tammy, I fear she's already feeling caught in an awkward position.  I'm deeply grateful she tagged Dana to see my post though.  I've been so overwhelmed by hearing  from Dana that I was able to deal with...yeah.

The family bullshit already started, not even a day later.  One of my brothers tried to raid the house and garage of belongings.  I don't know what some people are made of.

******
I've now faced, met, and made it through the worst grief I may ever know.  The question I'm dealing with now is: why bother?  Things are still bad and getting worse.  Moving to New Your fell through, moving in with Lore is falling through.  I can still stay here for a little while but not long enough.

Took one day, I fucked up already.

I can't deal with talking about mom right now.  Things keep developing, and the last I was sure of was...it's...everyone has gathered.  I reached out to FB.

Dana replied.  I didn't think she would.  Moony called and told me, and I was terrified of looking in in.  Had to find the courage to do so.

I replied.  And I'm scared of saying the wrong thing, and stumbling.  My aim was not to push her or come on too strong, and I think I went too far the other way and came off cold.  Fuck.  She and I did that once before, miscommunicated from fear.

I just hope I haven't already blown it.

I haven't looked at her FB page, not wanting to until I'm invited to.  I don't want to intrude.  Jesseca checked it out, and tells me that Dana is now an artist!  I hope I get to see it soon!  Jesseca sent her a friend request.  I hope she accepts.  I am so unsure of myself, it would help if they were talking to each other for awhile.

Meanwhile...yeah.  At this point I'm dreading the ring of the phone.  I could almost convince myself that no news is good news.


********
Sunday morning.  Mom is still fighting.  Went into the hospital a week ago now.  God my body won't stop shivering.

I caved to temptation and glimpsed at Dana's FB page.  I was right, one of her avs is the rainbow one. I'm proud of  her!  She had up a vid of Lady Gaga talking about hate.   And...she has a picture of a tattoo - is that hers??  It says "ENOUGH" and is of a bird escaping a cage.  For so, so many years I was having dreams of her as a bird not only trapped in a cage but afraid of leaving it.

And I take back everything I said about her being a coward.  I hope she will tell me her story.  I've always known Dana's a strong fighter and a survivor.  I want to know what she was up against.  It's still hard to take in that she has at least for a moment torn down the wall between us and reached out to me.  I wonder what it must feel like for her to have done that.  Will it make it easier to do it again?

God she's beautiful.

I want to tell her how much she means to me, and I have to hold back lest she turn away.

I think she has a new fan in Jesseca!

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Had a dream of a hummingbird about a week ago.  Must have been Friday night.  The dream was that a bright red hummingbird was hovering stationary at just under eye level.  I approached, which it didn't mind at all...petted it, cautiously, which it seemed to enjoy.  Told her she was beautiful.  Her wings spread, she had white and black lines in an abstract pattern over an all-red body and wings.  She seemed injured, so I took her indoors to see if there was anything I could do to help.  She immediately got angry with me, bit me hard, dug her talons in until I took her back outside where she could fly away.  She thought I was trying to trap her for keeping.

That next day, Karla bought a meal at Burger King and got one of their kids' toys, which she brought home and put on the kitchen window sill.  It was the red bird from Angry Birds.

That took a little of the sting out, but might have been meant to punctuate it as important.  It seemed pointedly cautionary.  I have been afraid to interpret it, because the obvious first message is to let mom go.  Maybe that's not it, as mom is holding on her own, as is her nature.

So the next interpretation that comes to mind regards Dana, though it was  a week prior to her reappearance.  I have to not hold on to her either.  She will not be robbed of the freedom she has won for herself, that she should be proud of, that the tattoo represents.  And I will never try to take that from her.  But, god, I hope for another gesture from her soon.  Her note to me has meant so much more to me than she can guess, it's been helping me try to make it through this.

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Monday.  Jesseca has advised me a few times to let go of any preconceived notions - be prepared for Dana to be revealed as never having had anything to do with the narrative I've been living with for years.  No need, I'm already there!  I don't know a damn thing.   Honestly, I'm ready to delete this entire blog out of self-conscious fear.

My biggest dilemma with Dana right now is this:  If this one message she sent me is the only time I ever hear from her again?  I want to fully express to her how grateful I am, what it has meant to be.  Instinctively, I want to be open, authentic, and unhidden with her. Yet if I do that, will it be too much?  How cautious is too cautious?  And...if I miss the moment to vindicate her gesture with my honest gratitude?

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Watching the California fires.  One near Vallejo where I grew up, none close to San Mateo.

Sepsis. Bad.

See last post.  Trying to get a ride to the hospital.  Will try to have Scott post to his FB later and tell people.  I want to ask if someone will inform Dana.

I hope Lore comes through on the room she said she'd have for me.  Will have to abandon everything I own.  Not even time to sort or  donate it?

The only person I even want to survive for is on the other side of the country in New York, and she just got married.  She had said she'd take me, nd I know she wants to, but she's also said it can't happen soon enough (if at all, I'd add).

Every time I think I have a shot at moving forward, sorting things out, making an escape, things suddenly get even worse.  If there is a god he's fucking evil.

Angel Kelly

At least, it's meant to be Angel Kelly.  I'm not happy that I couldn't do a smoother job with her face.  She really is a beautiful woman.  I like the composition, though.

8"x6" (will trim it a touch), two ballpoint pens, took three hours.  The pens are not fresh so they didn't give me even control or smooth shading...I had to keep switching them out.  Because the pens would spit out blotches of ink when I was trying to build the shading, I ended up having to go darker to compensate.  That's why her face doesn't look quite right. 

Trying out a new signature.  I like the look of it, but I don't want to hide my real name.  A 'J'. two dots for an 'E', an 'L'.  The two dots alone didn't quite carry it so I added the bisecting horizontal line. Nod to Amsel.

Damn.   No, it needs work still.  I've made her look like she's been crying.  Also, I'm wondering why I can't find her eyebrow...should find another photo to go by.  If I do this again in pencil, it will turn out right.

(had to edit:  I had said Jill Kelly.  Bad mental state tonight, can't think.)


I was wondering if I might try Inktober this year.  Do 31 ink drawings or sketches, one for each day of the month, on that day (be done by midnight.  The idea is to work on your skills.  While ink isn't my main , it still teaches me plenty.  But I think my time is up.  I have weeks at best, not months.  I don't know what happens after that or if there will be an after.  Mom is taking a nap this evening.  She never goes to bed by 7,  usually 10:30.  I don't know if it's because Karla has made her sit in a hair all day doing nothing or if she's worse tonight.  Has been looking paler.  I am frightened and have been getting little sleep...Probably won't tonight, I'm freshly terrified and already filled with grief.  I don't think I will have time for Inktober either way.

I really need the help of Dana's Vodoun heritage right now to save mom and to save me.  Okay, so I don't know that she actually has that in her family or not, but since I'll never hear from her again I choose to believe it's so.  Why not?

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(edit) Reworked the drawing slightly last night.  Didn't sleep last night, got a rough hour or so today.  Woke to a note on my door, mom is at the ER.  Waiting to hear.  Still waiting.
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Hmm, I was always taken with  guitarist Wendy Coleman in the video for Raspberry Beret.  She and Dana looked just a little similar when they both had short hair.  I love Dana's hair, long or short.

Dana, This is my last shot.  Please talk to me.  My time is up.

I should have had Moony or someone reach out to her for me, but I hadn't wanted to explain to them or put anyone in the middle.

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Y'know, this needs to be done properly.  Angel Kelly deserves a better picture than this.  I need to do her in pencil, then you'll see what I'm talking about.

It's not just her looks.  I've seen her in a  few interviews, has always struck me as a warm, thoughtful, intelligent person of empathy and conscience, strong in a softspoken way.  She's just all-around beautiful.