Oh happy day - I am not the only member of the Cult of St. Crazy.
Oh sad day - I am not the only member of the Cult of St. Crazy.

I feel like the worst person in the world

Please feel free to skip this entry. I just had to tell this to someone. Anyone. I realize how awful this entry makes me appear but I just can't carry this around anymore.

When I first moved to this house, I had some rather...interesting neighbors. They were a couple in their sixties, I guess. He always wore overalls and tinkered with his trucks and she always kept her hair jet black, no matter what. More often than not, he would stay in the backyard and work on his truck, never saying a word while she stood in the back door and yelled at him. She had a unique way of it, starting out normal but slowing down toward the end: "Ah'm gonna kick. Yore. Aaaaaaassss...."

Now I've taken that guy's place in the neighborhood, except the bar has been lowered. All I need now to be a classic redneck is a snaggle toothed old man with his PBR sitting in an old lazy boy on the porch while his equally snaggle toothed old dog sits chained in a yard under an old crate.

I really think I'm going crazy - or the other person involved is. Either way, I wish I simply had the skill to deal with it. I should have just walked away but for a variety of reasons, all of them wrong, I didn't. Now, the point seems to be moot.

We would usually see each other about twice a week - Thursday and Sunday. She usually drives because I am, in her words, "a wild driver." I started noticing things in the last few months. The first time or two it happened, I just thought it was odd. Then I started to catch on. For example, sometimes she would ask me all kinds of questions about something, like how to get to a certain place. "Turn here? Go straight? What about this light? Turn or straight?" The problem would come when I anticipated the question. She'd turn of me and snarl, "Don't tell me what to do! I'm not as stupid as you think I am!"

Other times, she would get stuck on going to a certain store or restaurant, say, to the same Goodwill or Subway every Sunday or CARES store every Thursday for weeks on end. If I said something about it, she would make it a point that store was the very next stop because she urgently needed something from it.

(Okay, I admit it, I am slow. I should've said, "I am so tired and bored with Plaza Art Supply and the Frist. Don't even think about letting me near those damn boring Meerkats at the zoo and ugh, that same ol' art collection Georgia O'Keefe gave to Fisk. My god, I just can't bear the thought of eating hummus with the fresh tomatoes and pickles at that greek restaurant across from Vanderbilt on 21st...")

Anyway, yesterday was a good example. Things started very well. We were getting along and laughing, especially about how bored I was of going to the local CARES store because we go there Every. Time. We go. Out. She laughed as she said, "You just can't take it anymore, huh?" and I said, "NO!" As we shopped in Portland, she joked a bit about how broke she was. She forgot to stop at the bank that morning and she may have to borrow some from me. Okay. No problem. I was also joking about some laundry I needed to do while we were out.

Remember what I've said here.

Not fifteen minutes later, we're pulling into the CARES parking lot. "I just need to find some jeans to go with a shirt I have." I should have just stayed in the car. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference. I don't know. I just know that one quick look told me that it was same stuff I'd seen the last few times we visited.

After that, she got more and more quiet. She only spoke to me long enough to borrow five dollars for lunch and this sparkling conversation:

"Do you want some of my chicken?"
"Not really, why? Do you want to trade for some of my fries?"
(as she shrugs her shoulders) "No. Are you taking your burger with you or eating it here?"
(I'm thinking, "huh?") "Does it matter?"
"I only asked a question! I didn't ask to have my head bitten off!"

I tried to start a conversation once or twice and it was like I wasn't even there. That's how it was all the way home, until a pickup came up behind us on a back road. She literally started snarling about "those damn bright lights. I can't see the road!" and it progressed, somehow, to me. It started out as: "Next week, you can take the car but I won't be going. I'm cutting back on my trips." and it ended up as "I am 62 years old! I can't even have a life because of you! I'm tired to staying broke buying gas, carrying your freeloading loser ass everywhere! I'm 62 years old!" She kept screaming that: "I'm 62 years old! I'm 62 years old!"

I knew what was coming but I stepped right into it anyway. "What does your being 62 have to do with anything?"

Now she's screaming as loud as she can. "Do you think I like hauling your loser ass around? I can't even have a life because you need the car!"

"What are you talking about? It's your car, you have it 24 and 7. You can do whatever you want! Anytime!"

It's been over twenty something years since I've seen her in a rage. Even so, this one surpassed anything I remember from back then. She started screaming even louder about all my faults. No matter what I said or did, she screamed louder and louder so she can't hear me even when I'm screaming back. I'm a loser with a bad attitude who bosses her around and if she had someone to help her raise a such a rotten thing instead of a wimp, things may have turned out differently. (This is the person who once declared, "I'm never getting angry ever again. It's not worth getting that upset over anything.")

I'm not blameless in this. I fell right back into that pattern that hasn't seen the light of day in twenty something years and I surpassed it. During all this rage, I went from feeling like I was a powerless, confused ten year old again to the one thing I said I never wanted to become - hateful, abusive and crazy. I gave just as bad as I got and I had a hell of a lot of memories to draw on.

(So go ahead, world. Throw whatever you want at me. I don't think you punish me any worse than what I'm feeling. I let myself down by becoming exactly like her. All my hard work over the years to fix myself, gone in an instant.)

Mind you, we're still on the back road while all this is happening. When we got back to my house, things got even more out of control. She got out, fueled by the fact that I slipped up, stood in my driveway and started screeching about how I am ruining her life and I am never bossing her around ever again. I could have caused a wreck back there with my crap. She can't even go to CARES without me worrying her to death. She'll go where she pleases, when she pleases and there's not one thing I can do about it. "Do you think I like sitting around while you do your filthy laundry? Do you think I like sitting in the car while you do your shopping in Wal Mart? I don't even feel like talking and you just keep yakking away! Yak! Yak! Yak! GET YOUR JUNK OUT OF MY CAR SO I CAN GO! I AIN'T EVER COMING BACK!"

All the while, I'm on one side of the car, trying to do exactly that and I can feel myself shutting down. All I can say is, "What are you talking about?!" She's on the other, grabbing what she could of the stuff I bought and was throwing as hard as she could down the driveway. Still screeching how horrible I am and she ain't ever puttin' with it ever again to the whole wide world. Then she sat in my driveway for at least twenty minutes and I spent the next two hours waiting for the cops I was sure would come. I just didn't know what they would be told - that I tried to murder her, I assaulted her or we were simply disturbing the peace and I was worse than the armpit of Satan. I was honestly surprised when no one showed up.

Now, despite everything, I can't help feeling overwhelmingly relieved. It's over.

I have to say though...in a bizarre way, all that screeching was pretty incredible considering the cold she had. I bet there'll be stories for years to come: "It was a cold January night when the Banshee started screaming, all the way from hell..."

Throwing fits

There are a few paintings that have given me absolute fits lately. Here’s the 4’x2’ King of the Fits:

I don’t know exactly why this thing is giving me such fits. I like the corner those two donuts are in on the left. I also like the pool of glaze on the right. Excuse that big blob of ochre on the right and that thing in the bottom center – I was trying to get something going.

Those were some great donuts though.

Another painting that gave me fits is Instant Ancestor#1:

I think I’ve got what I need to finish it now. Part of my problem with this painting was its cuteness. It’s almost too cute. So yesterday, while I was raking leaves for the garden, part of her story came to me.

“Her ‘pet’ (it can’t be pronounced by our tongue) is the reigning Grand Champion as well as currently standing at number one in its class. He has killed 243 of its competitors, surpassing his Grand Champion dam, who could only claim 130.”

Now, this isn’t at all like dog fighting. Nope, not at all. It is more like Westminster...well, okay – Westmonster. She’s so proud, isn’t she?

(Which reminds me: I should clean the story off the front door where I wrote it on the glass with a china pencil, although it would be interesting to see the faces of people who come up…)

Here are a few more ideas for Instant Ancestors:


Yes, beside the “normal” guy, it says “The black sheep – we don’t talk about him.”

One more:

I played with the anatomy of this satyr (well, that sounds wrong.) I like the idea of the horns and the tail but it makes more sense to me to use the front legs of a goat. They are a little more analogous to the legs of a human. I don’t know but I like this guy.

Here’s a doodle of Bast on part of a 3”x5” card. I keep trying to end our little cat fight.


I couldn’t pass this one up. I don’t know exactly how I’m going to use it but what imagery. You should be able to read it by clicking on the picture.

…and one more. I read a story a while back that had a crow who just happened to also be a parson. I’m still playing with it but here are a few things so far:



Yes, that is a comic book. You can’t expect a Trickster like Crow to actually pay attention during a ceremony, can you? I don’t know about the girl yet. I think I’ll work on her a bit – or get rid of her entirely. Who knows?

Names

I’ve been playing with the idea of changing the name of my studio. I’ve been calling it Black Horse Studio in my head since I was in my teens. Yes, there were reasons behind it but I won’t bore you with them. Let’s just say the name has done its job and I want to retire it with honor.

Off on a tangent for a second… there is the #1 Chinese restaurant in Gallatin (yep, that’s its name) that has all these neon animals in the window. There’s a cow, chicken, pig and best of all - a shrimp. I love that thing. The Neon Shrimp would be a great name. For what, I don’t know.

Anyway, I’ve been playing. I don’t know if I’ve found quite the right thing yet. Here’s the first idea I had (and favorite):

Not too far away, there is a little spot in the road that used to be a thriving little town in the late 1800’s. It had a general store, post office and school. It struck me as ridiculously pompous and fun that I could be, instead of a studio, a one person art society in a town that doesn’t exist anymore except on some maps. Of course, I had to pay homage to Calico Jack, Anne Bonny and Mary Read too.

However, after dealing with one particular crazy making person (who also inspired a painting,) I thought it may be better to go with a little burro as a mascot and change the words around a bit. This guy is a little too horse-like but you get the idea. The motto could be “Sometimes, at the end of the day and despite your best efforts, you’re still just an ass.”

Speaking of that painting, here it is:

I call this my therapy painting. This was pretty much how I was feeling. I had a brand new wooden pencil when I started writing on the canvas. I covered that sucker and had just a little stub left when I was finished. Don’t believe me? Here it is:

I love the way this painting worked for me. I started out pissed as hell and ended up musing where we would be if someone didn’t have the curiosity to ask “What if we put cheese in a spray can?” and how I could make tens of dollars.

Hello? Is anybody here? Hello?

:::sigh::: I knew it's been a while since the last post but sheesh....How about we put this in the "another damn thing for Azra to get over" file and continue on? Perhaps the new year should focus on being a little less isolationist and neurotic? Well…isolationist anyway. May as well be realistic.

So, my poor neglected friends – how are you? Doing okay? Putting exes and other enemies to shame by living well? I hope so. I missed you.

There was a bit of time while I was gone that I began to call “Let’s Get Azra Culturfied.” I went to the Tennessee State Pow Wow at Longhunter State Park and the Don Yahola Memorial Pow Wow in Mount Juliet. I almost got to a third pow wow, only about fifteen minutes from my house – only to find it cancelled and the dance grounds covered with new strawberry plants. (Apparently they’ve given up everything “native”- the pow wow, the sweats. Sad thing too – that was one of the best pow wows around.) We ended up going to the Mennonite community and Shaker Museum instead. MMM…..fresh molasses. MMMM…tomato cheese bread.

Oh yeah…and then there was Samhain. I thought it appropriate to spend it with a bunch of mostly dead artists. Free day at the Frist is a wonderful thing. There is also a great little used bookstore across the street in Cummins Station. I could spend days in there.

Well…I’m done boring everyone. Let’s get to some art, hmm?

Things you need to clean a palette, especially if it's long overdue

• Razor blade to scrape the dry paint off


• Container to put the scrapings in


• Towels to clean the blade, palette, your hands and whatever else. Those scrapings can fly.


• Mineral spirits to also help clean the blade, palette, hands and whatever else


• Something stiff. Jack works well. Vodka too, probably.


• A good excellent vocabulary. A sailor's is a good starting point.

Done In

Geez - has it really been that long since I last posted on this thing? I've really got to stop letting time get away from me like that.

What's been going on? Let's see:

On the home front, there has been a bit on an invasion - at least as far as the reformed Sea of Felinity is concerned. One of the neighbors has acquired two half grown, stupid but probably likable doofuses(doofusii?) puppies. They look like hunting dogs. I can count on them showing up a little after four in the afternoon and trying to clean out the bowls of day old cat food. However...

I didn't even know they were around until I heard one of them yelp the other day. Apparently, they got a little too friendly with the new cat. When I walked out the door, all I heard was her growling and the one of the puppies barking at her - from fifteen feet away.

Okay, I'll admit it right now. I was almost done in by these two. After watching the Standoff At The Front Porch for a minute or two, I decided it was time for the doofuses to go home. So I tried to use the Dog Voice.

They stood there and looked at me. I guess the lack of brains granted them some sort of immunity. One of them even got down on his belly right at my feet, like he was saying, "Oh come on, you know you won't hurt me. I'm very cute and likable."

Damn. By now, I was getting irked because they were going to make me get downright domestic. I got out the broom and swiped it at them a few times. The doofuses looked at me and weren't fazed in the least. You could just hear them thinking, "Oh yeah, you're badass all right." I swear one of them rolled his eyes.

There was a plastic two gallon watering can near the remains of my tomato plants and I had the bright idea to hit it with the broom. You know, to convince these two of my badass-ocity(? -ness? -icity?) So I hit it a few times, trying to show I meant business. Bam! Bam! BamBamBam!

That's when the absurdity of the situation hit me. Here I was, wailin' on this watering can with two half grown and now fully confused dogs staring at me.


Oh yeah, it's hard to be badass when you're giggling your head off.

Doors

"There is always in childhood one moment when a door opens and lets in the future." (Graham Greene. Posted as a prompt on personalwriting@yahoogroups.com)

My first response to this quote was, "Just one?" I just can't wrap my head around the idea of there being one door leading the way to one sole path in life which leads to one destination. (Tangent: just how would a person wrap their head around something? Like a towel? A scarf? A big, warm blanket? A flour tortilla?)

Life itself makes it impossible to have just one door. In folklore and mythology, doors are important places. They are thresholds, boundaries and the "in between." The boundary between the everyday world and Faery. The boundary between waking and dreams. The boundaries between youth and adolescence as well as between adolescence and adulthood (whatever that is.)

Ordinary, everyday decisions can be doors and it could be said we're constantly teetering in the "in between." Thought of in this way, "what if?" becomes a far more potent and dangerous question.

The Unknown Dervish

I am Al-Kahira, the comparer of nonsense and flowers.

I've put off posting about the tomato fest for a few days. I think I just needed to process a few things. It was a great experience, for the most part. There were quite a few neat booths - tie dyes, jewelry, monoprints, handmade dog treats - and not enough money. Of course, I liked this booth, hidden back in the corner behind the hotdog stand. I love those Poe t-shirts and I'm keeping an eye out for the handmade Ouija board. I just love that idea.

As for the "small part"...I had great success with the show. I heard people saying great things about my work - especially the puzzle - as I looked at the other entries. Both my paintings sold.

And there's the crux of the problem. (_insert embarrassed chuckle here_) This is exactly what I want. So...why does it scare the hell out of me?

It's not the first time I've ever sold paintings - it's not even the most money I've ever made from a sale. Is it because it was a spur of the moment thing to enter? Is it because it is the first time my work's been in a gallery? Is it because I'm just weird?

I don't know.

I just know this: I'm usually okay when it comes to my art. I know I have chops. I'm happy when my work leaves the next and flies away to make a life for itself in a new place. Lately, I've been having a low grade - or in the case of last Saturday, not so low grade - Birdcage like freak outs ("...You do Martha Graham, Martha Graham, Martha Graham!...Or Madonna, Madonna, Madonna!...but you keep it all inside.")

Okay. Enough, Azra. Consider yourself slapped upside the head. Time to get back to work play.

At the brink of spontaneous combustion

At 3 pm, it was 101 in the shade. The news reported since there hasn't been any rain, the air quality in and around Nashville is now worse than Los Angeles.


I think I know what it's like to be a morsel that's been overcooked in the microwave.

Just one or two non-tomato related sketches...

Sorry again for the quality. I tried getting better photos but...meh. Just click on them for a little more detail.




Excuse the dirt on this one - it came to me just as I finished transplanting my Bertgarten sage and I forgot to wash up first. lol

The other Tomato fest entry as well as the good, the bad and the "eh?"

This is one of the smallest paintings I've ever done. It's 6 and 5/7ths(-ish) by five and 7/8ths(-ish) on Masonite.

I didn't get the wolf peach idea finished enough to enter. Someone told me I should have entered it anyway but 1.) the edges were way too messy for my liking and 2.) I don't think I could sell it. I'm just inordinately proub (proud, even) of my first effort of painting hands.

Here is the original sketch and painting:



Sorry about the quality of the sketch. If you click on it, you can see a bit more detail on all the leaves and vines down the left side. The painting is an odd size (I can't remember the reasoning behind it) 8"x12", I think, on Masonite.




Here's some ideas that didn't quite make it:


That's supposed to be a cuttlefish or perhaps a nautilus in the upper left corner. I really like that snail.


My mom suggested I paint some tomatoes just hanging on the vine. After thirty seven years, you would think she'd know me by now.


The Tomatoes of Good and Evil


You have to say it like that guy from the Princess Bride: "The Squash of Despaairrr."

Ah...the memories.

When I was a kid, we went to Cumberland Presbyterian Church, just outside of Hartsville, TN. It's not quite, as a woman from Queens NY once told me, "out there where even Jesus doesn't wear shoes." (It sounded great in Italian.)

I don't remember much about the actual lessons. I do remember my Sunday School instructor was a lesbian who had gorgeous long brown hair and dressed like my father. I was the youngest in my class (I don't know - seven? Eight?) and at least one lesson hour focused on horror movies about ginormous spiders and chainsaws that I wished I could see even though I was terrified by what I was hearing.

Wait. That could explain a lot about me, huh?

Anyway, I probably would have remembered the actual lessons if they were more like this.

Could this be?

YES!!!!

For some reason (let's not ask why), Azra was allowed to bring another computer into her home. I promise to try to mend my :::coughcoughmurderousharddrivekillingcoughcough::: ways.

Tangible Proof I'm Not an Artist Wannabe Poser

I feel good today. My paintings are in their new, temporary home at the gallery. I ended up turning in just two: the 'jester' and another where the tomato is a half finished puzzle.

I had a lot of craziness going on in my head as I walked in. I was sure I was going to be singled out as soon as I walked through that door as the Artist Wannabe Poser. Never mind the fact I made it through the selection process for this show. Never mind all the great comments left on this blog about my work. I kept hearing Ms. Mulcahy (one of my instructors from college) in my head, "Look at all that rubbery brushwork!" Then I saw some of the other entries.

My paintings were as good as any- and everything in that room. I got several great comments - one woman has already said she may just have to buy them. My work belongs in that show.

So yeah. I feel really good today.

It's all over now...

I'll admit it. I read Harry Potter. I had my copy of the Deathly Hallows on pre-order for months.

I had finished it Sunday night and started it all over again the next day. All I can say is this: Wow. I won't give any spoilers, in case anyone hasn't read it yet, but I will say that I was absolutely shocked at that big, wet smacker that Harry laid on Ron...poor Hermione, left out in the cold...I wasn't expecting that at all.

What? Oh....oops. ;-)

This once a week stuff just doesn't cut it...

I still don't have a computer at home. I think if I hear the phrase, "I'll try to have it for you this weekend" again, I'll scream. Yeah...scream...

The frenzy has begun. I've been working like crazy, trying to get as many paintings finished as I can. I'm allowed three in the show but I like (the idea of) having my pick.

Damn it! I want to post photos! I've also been wanting to play with sound files but I haven't checked into whether Blogger will let me upload them, other than mobile entries....consider yourself lucky. You're not being subjected to the high soprano wailings of a with delusions of melodiousness.

What was I saying? Oh yeah. (See? This once a week stuff reduces me to rambling.) I have two paintings at the moment that are...let's say "pushing me out of the comfort zone." One is based on a something I read about German folklore saying witches planted mandrake and nightshade in the garden to draw werewolves. It's quite a bit more complicated than what I'm used to doing. Another one started out as an extreme closeup of a slice of lime but is morphing into something abstract. I only hope I have the chops to pull them both off. I'm afraid I may not. It's scaring the hell out of me but I'm painting anyway.

Ack! Five minutes left. Just enough time to check for misspellings...

Have a good one, y'all.

A bit of an update - and a happy Snoopy Dance

(Or maybe a Kermit Dance. Kermit's wild and flailing arms and head seem to fit the mood better than Snoopy's bopping. Ah hell - I'll do both!)

I'm having to get used to posting without photos. It seems wierd to just type.

News: Yay me! I made it into the Tomato Art Fest!!! I've got two possibilities ready to go - and more than a few ideas for a third. YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!

The other news is rather mundane compared to that: I'm covered up in fresh blackberries and Sweet 100 tomatoes. I'm about to be covered up with Rutgers, Arkansas Traveller and Mr. Stripey tomatoes too. Thanks to Toby, my cat who seems to think he's Don Juan, I have also gained four more housemates: a little black and white female and her three weaning age kittens.

I don't think he knew what he was getting into when he chatted her up.

Oh yeah - according to my computer tech, I am officially a serial killer. His exact words were, "Well, more serial killers go for a very specific thing and you are certainly specific - you go straight for the hard drive!"

Gee, thanks dude. I feel ever so much better.

On the bright side, I may have a computer back this weekend. Maybe.

All right - four minutes of internet time left. Have a good one, y'all.

CBI Alert

Well, damn. I've apparently killed again. I'm at the library. My computer tech is telling me to get an uninterruptable power source to see if that doesn't fix the problem of killing my computers' hard drives. See y'all soon - again - even if I have to blog from the library!

Authorities Search for Local Woman
Byline: Joannie Snigglebotham, contributing reporter

The Cyber Bureau of Investigations reported today they are looking for a local Middle Tennessee woman, Azra. She is wanted for questioning in the alleged deaths of several computers in the upper Sumner County area in the last few years.

The latest death was reported on June 17, in Ms. Azra's very own home. The victim was said to be fine, only to suddenly revert to a blinking prompt on a blank, black screen. Hours later, the victim was declared to be brain dead. At the time, Ms. Azra claimed to have no knowledge of what happened. She later claimed her computer tech reported a region wide power surge earlier in the week.

Authorities urge all Compu-Americans in the area to be on the lookout for Ms. Azra. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Ms. Azra, please call your local CBI office. Do not attempt to apprehend her yourself. She may be armed and dangerous.