Some Kind of Love

How have I never heard this before? How is this possible? This is one of the most beautiful, simple, angelic-truths kind of song. A song’s song.

“I can’t do this alone”. That is why I stick around this fucking Hell. I know I’m needed.

I got a few likes here in the past few days, and each one really made my heart glow like a lemon in Heaven. So, I need people, too.

A relationship is like a person. When the relationship ends, that person dies. Others within oneself are born again and again and again – and sometimes die. It isn’t crazy to mourn the death of “someone”who was once new and beautiful to you; that someone was you. You were it, and part of you died when that “person” created by the relationship died – because the relationship was no more. It changed, either subtly or significantly, but it changed and that means the relationship became something new. So, that relationship died, hear me? That relationship that once was and is no more is dead. And what is dead can be reborn, but will never be the same. It can be as simple as the cashier at the store, whose name you never knew, disappears and a few weeks later you never knew a] that she was gone, and b] that you missed her. Meaning: everything and everyone you ever loved is already dead. (This is how I terrorize myself. I have a lot of changes to make inside. it’s hard because I won’t let the ghosts of my past selves go. Let the ghosts of past selves go, Jen. Let go, let go, let go).

Pictures of 3″x 3″ Instagram Prints!

Got my 3″ x 3″ prints of pics off of my Instagram account – for the sake of archiving just in case the Big One of Solar Flares destroys my life’s memory. Plus, I’m really quite the tactile-is-best kind of person. I am SO happy I did. SO HAPPY! The colors are much nicer in person. The paper is satin, and the backs are pure white! I have lots of ideas of making a tarot deck and having a set made! It’s always been a dream to do a tarot deck in order to learn the symbolism as well as stretch my art-bones.
There are some looks the Instagram filters caught beautifully, and I often used them on my own drawings. If I could be anyone I hoped I could be, it’s the woman on the bottom right. I think she is my spirit. I’m afraid to do anything to “improve” the drawing. Maybe I shall just attempt a new one, or a photoshop adjustment with digital drawing? idk.
You can see the luscious stack of them in the upper-left there. Really fun to play with and flip through. These are really sturdy. I got 233 of them, and it was about $78. Not cheap, but lovely, small, square memoirs for me to treasure as jewels from here on, so = worth it.

Pressed Flowers, Watercolor Sketches, Calligraphy Things

Pressed flowers coincidentally on the “witch doctor” page of an enormous Webster’s Dictionary I bought at a used book shop for the purpose of destroying for the sake of art. I left them in there for well over a year. Delighted with the results. I laid them on white paper, moved them about, stared at their beauty. Traced outlines, painted copies in watercolor next to their still-lives.

Mindless doodling in watercolor. She’s like a woman entering a cave, and she is the cave.
Right, drawing and writing experimentally/learning with calligraphy pens. I love the little painted-in bird – it reminds me of the 60’s or something.

Music Listening

I think it is perhaps one of the most unnoticed losses, probably one that is utterly life-affecting and profound: Not listening to music with one’s eyes closed and head down. You didn’t keep your eyes closed the whole time, but rather, you focused and felt more of the music when you did. Remember putting your face close to the album art, or album insert? What magic that was with big headphones and a a candle-lit mind.

Entrance to respite. An imagining of a cave. (Good Enough).