compulsive

*ticktickticktickticktick*

Feeling not so great. Hope I'm not coming down with something. Too much to do.

I’ve gone and done it. Launched my Kickstarter project. bit.ly/4UEvMx

Please to spread the word and love. bit.ly/4UEvMx

Holy crap, but LA DWP bill collectors are fucking assholes. #ladwp

I want to be sick.

Um. Wow, guys. You know who you are. You fucking rock. *kisses you*

*tocktocktocktocktocktocktock*

12% Already

You guys are awesome. Seriously.  88% to go on the project!



The most fascinating part of this project is watching my fear spring up and die in the light of day. Part of my manifesto for this year was to promote my art a little bit every day, no matter what, along with the annual, write every day, come hell or high water.

I worry about being a pest. I think all artists do. But, if I don't speak up, if I don't talk about my art, if I'm too afraid to put my damn money where my mouth is? How the hell can I expect anyone else to do that?

It's not their art. It's not their creative act. It's mine.

I hear my friend, Kevin, the Bear Shaman, again, saying, "Every time you have kept your silence, it has been an affront to the Goddess."

It's not humility. It's not being demure. It's flat out bullshit fear. Fear of being seen. Fear of being criticized. Fear of being minimized. Fear of being marginalized. Fear of being told that I'm obscene. Fear of being told that I'm a fraud. Fear of being told that I'm not a friend to women because I like to portray them nude and powerful. Fear, fear, fear.

All fucking bullshit.

I'm not going to lose my birthday. I'm not going to be punished for speaking my truth and making my art. Not anymore, no matter what happened to me as a teenager, when yes, I was punished for speaking my truth and making my art. I may still get hurt. In fact, that's probably guaranteed.

But I'm a grown woman now.

Anyone who tries to punish me this time is not going to buy my silence, they're going to get both barrels of my full, unadulterated opinion. Anyone who tries to hurt me is going to earn themselves a full helping of the Wrath.

But fear of getting hurt or getting punished has kept the art from finding the ones who are looking for it, who may not even know they are looking for it. The way that I've found art that spoke to me and helped me and yes, saved me at times.

I let *those* people down, if I let fear silence me. If I just poke around in my little corner of the internet and hope no one sees too much of me.

No.

I choose to live. I choose to create. I choose to live as large as I know how, no matter how far that pushes me outside of my comfort zone.

I am an artist. Hear me roar.

* * *

The Mad Model sent me the most exquisite feather, green, black and orange, tiny thing. It's like a jewel.

My heart swells to overflowing, holding it. I hold it and just think, YES.