Resignation...

I met someone recently who turned my world upside down turned my thoughts from the mystics' astrology to the pseudoscientists' Myers Briggs Test

I won't fight him, but there's no reason an INTJ and an ENFJ who, as he said, "connect on every single level" can not be together.

So the INTJ, idealist, analytical planner, thinker, charter of the course - the sex lives in his mind, where it can remain perfect as he has fashioned it while meanwhile, the ENFJ, passionate and fixated on him, researches feverishly for some way to please him or just plain turn him on. She's floored by the fearlessness with which she throws her body and heart at him as he passively and hesitantly half-asses a cold acceptance. So many more times has she been he in his position, flattered by another party's desire, yet almost totally disinterested. Turning the mirror to her she is simply all the more zealous and ardent. Matched in intellect, aesthetics, ambition and humor, she can do nothing but feel inspired, energized, and dejected at the realization that he can see her the same way and still just shrug.

He is not apathetic. He is not melancholic, he is not even attached to the thought of someone else.

He just says it wouldn't work.

In response I am exploring sex in my drawing projects this semester.

Maybe there's nothing wrong with me after all...

Why does this idea intrigue me? What a peculiar fantasy, and yet the idea of sex with US presidents doesn't seem weird to me at all. Maybe I'm okay after all.

This artist, Justine Lai presents a peculiar slant on political art. She fucks the presidents, in order, on canvas. Forcing a human look at the statuesque figures of our country's past, she creates something both playful, tender and dare I say, titillating.

The warmness of the works really strikes me. I love these. I love the ambiguousness and yet sense of joy and sweetness in these scenes... and with presidents. I want to hug this gal.

Woodwind

Absolutist!
Flautist or Flutist!
While I couldn't blame you
I nurtured the truth.

Whistling high
Your blind-sighted cry
I oracled, say
You ignored the sooth.

You failed to believe me,
I failed to relieve these
Months that collected
Like cards up my sleeve.

But I'm no magician,
Nor gambling logician.
Just curious and curved
To bereft, you, leave.

You absolutist.
Word-smithing Buddhist.
Monestarically
Made me a whore.

And now no more broken
Than ever before,
my trumpet lies limp
With your flute on the floor.

absolutist...
Gentle Inscrutist.
Oh how you ruined
My plans to be kind.

And I, Absolutist,
The bluntest and bluest
Though as yet truest
I'm not made to mind.

Pink Phone

He had a pink phone

Blackberry...

Staring me out of my clothes

Foes armed with that kind of charged charm

I could only run

Back to my warren...

Challenge my sworen

Fear to attest

Against future arrest.

I clung to my license

and animal

My sense be damned!

Let me be

As I am... just

I straight can not trust... this

Carpeted alley,

Those fiends in the galley

Were waiting, wanting

Something

They never needed. Wanted.

Until I was wide-eyed wet with watery willful zeal

To mother another

Leering lost lamb

Searing me with his desperation...

And break under thumb

The laughing warlord's drum, he

Who has seen through self-same actions

His flailing flagrant infractions

Amassing his feudal factions,

A seedy seduction

of honest sadness?

Laced with slight madness...

To eventually type and store,

And Furthermore:

Catalog my name

With that self-same

Seductive sadness,

And contagious madness

I saw before

In Blackberry pink eyes.

And I do think

Twice to recall

the day we all

Met...

Our coffees and Blackberry liquor to drink.

How funny - his shirt was pink.

And Then I Turned Into A Mermaid

They dropped me
From the diving board
That none of them
Dared jump
Plunged me into
The aqua-blue-green
They were so mean.

I drowned for 25 years
And when I came to
I skulked the pool floor
And along the walls
20 fathoms deep and tall
I found an unseemly mistake!
A forgotten crime
Intentionally morbid
Displayed under glass
Set in the concrete mass - a wall!
Only 5 inches tall
The glass perfectly sized
A tiny panda's perfect corpse
A baby blue skeleton's demise.

And then I cried.
At the bottom
Of the swimming pool
The salty sea in my nose
And mouth, the tears
Indistinguishable
I cried -
Poor dead pile of baby bones...

And then I turned into a mermaid
And then I turned into a mermaid
And then I turned into a mermaid

At the bottom of the swimming pool.

Past Drawings

Here is a small album of drawings, most of which I created in spring of '08. Their short lives were since claimed by the basement flood of 2009, though I tried to save their wrinkled corpses anyway. Some were never digitized. This is all I really have online.

Lisolette and Gregory... working title

Here is some ornamentation I drew that narrates a story I have been thinking about for a few years... The story is about a baby born into a medieval brothel. Her mother, a prostitute dies in childbirth and the sisterhood of prostitutes takes her and raises her as a collective, pledging to shelter the child from the gruesome realities of their lifestyle and misunderstood, disreputed profession. The child grows into a young adult and begins seeing a phantom in the form of a skeleton's shadow who comes to her at night and teaches her songs as her mothers meet  their clients. When the elder of the sisterhood hears her singing these songs, she asks the child where she heard such music and the child explains that she has a friend who teaches them to her. Mortified, the sisterhood instruct her never to sing these songs or fabricate such ridiculous stories again. With a penchant for music, the child requests to perform with her elders in their nightly dances. She is refused, naturally, as the sisterhood intend to save her from the lives they would have avoided in better times.  In the meantime, her only friend is a phantom who gradually begins to arouse the young girl's sexual curiosity...

It's a coming-of-age story. In black shadows and warm light...