December 19, 2008
My humanity’s skin
I am its strengths
From a childhood
Invisible, the good girl-
Comes this ability-
To see and hear,
To not be seen,
To be the observer.
Yet, in the hidden
Corners lies danger.
The soul risks slow submersion
When hidden in the dark.
When the good girl
Becomes the grounding,
The listener, the receiver,
Obscured from the light,
Death begins its
The self from
Self, light, and air.
It is insidious and
It is death.
She becomes a secret.
She becomes the lie.
She becomes others lies.
She becomes invisible.
Turning towards the
The tearing of tectonic
Magnitude, she walks away,
Into the light.
Dancing in the Sunshine
November 20, 2007
…..wanders my life despite
~horrendous work pressure
~three weeks of migraines
~ a man who I knew should contact me, and did, as I was resting from risk-taking, stating to my questions: If you could invite five people to dinner, alive or not, famous or not, who would you invite and why? Included, me! Yet, in his Must Haves he clearly states the following: I must have a partner who is considered very attractive by most current standards. And, another must have was: I can’t stand someone who is overweight. I have written him, we are in open communication, and clearly stated that I am fat. I love life. Wonderment will get back to you on this ……..
~lack of money, lack of balanced diet, lack of balance, lack of a headlight on a suspended license, see lack of money, because it took me being pushed against the wall to register and pay taxes on the car I bought, oh!, see lack of money
~Wait! I have money it just leaves so quickly, we never talk anymore. Sigh.
~I think imbalance is a teacher, by the way, so there.
~I did not sleep last night. I slept this morning from 5 am to about 7:30. The night before a registration day, I am going to put that on my next resume under talents.
~And, to the short emails from my connections around the world, who touch me.
~To my advisee Jared, who clearly stated I need a younger man! Yea babeee……
~And to tonight’s movie, may it work this time, my third try from Netflix:
November 18, 2007
A kindergarten pupil told his teacher he’d found a cat. She asked him if it was dead or alive.
“Dead.” she was informed.
“How do you know?” she asked her pupil.
“Because I pissed in its ear and it didn’t move” answered the child innocently.
“You did WHAT?!?” the teacher exclaimed in surprise.
“You know”, explained the boy, “I leaned over and went ‘Pssst!’ and it didn’t move.”
From: Wedding Photos
November 17, 2007
Is still with us……..
She came out of something and I am working on her engagement level. She sleeps a lot and will start a supposed wonder vitaimin next month.
We are still running a special home for 23 year old so ugly I am beautiful dog but life is in the moment and we smile muchly.
For the moment, it is Sammi time.
October 25, 2007
…that I lie.
And, I like exceptionally long naps!
Work, teaching; I have even been exercising, cleaning, caring for a 23 year old dog who will be leaving me next Thursday.She will go in her own home with the vet, his wife, and Kim to see her off to the next part of her journey.
One thing about death: You should be able to call those who die.
Who do I write about that?
Someday, I will write another poem!
Hey, someone said my yahoo profile was beautifully written today, they used the word wrought. I think this should count. Oh wait, I wrote that over a year ago. Damn.
One more thing, fall is coming. If you feel like wooing me, send propane!
Hey, I had two dates with the same guy too! No go, but I learned a lot. I thought of Suresh a lot! Silence is a powerful conveyor. This man never shut up, it was a phenomena. He has many qualities, but no match.
I need a 3 year nap.
This is not a photo of Sammi the wonder dog but the canine spirit.
I see Sammi after next Thursday, trotting down the road. Here ears are bouncing! She is off to find the next moment.
Search Engines Terms: How did you find me? What was your search?
I am fucking pissed.
If I see one more search phrase stating child erotica I am going to go hunting.
The photos I post of children are of how I see myself, of all children who deserve safety and wellness. They are my memories. They are why we need art, they show us ourselves. Artists are crucial for this. They tell our stories.
I am not here to tell any damn stories for injured relational sexuality.
I am here to say that I am not in control of the universe.
I was not in control of my friend Amanda’s bi-polar, existential, alcoholic, survivor pain or her death. I was not in control of my friend Leah’s childhood where her twin sister experienced her life as she did, a life ending with a swan dive. She took the bridge path. Yea, she is dead too.
So, this is all morbid or is it? Death is another stage. I am good with groovy godliness.
I post photos of children for the beauty of each and every one of our children, internally and externally.
My favorite is by Steven Gelberg. I see myself in her eyes and hiding behind that big leaf. I see my cave child self, now and then.
I do not want fucking trapped in the darkness of soul injured compulsion finding my blog by searching such words. Words that have never been posted here until now which means somewhere in the universe someone found Steven’s souful child photo and showed me that I am not in control of the freakin’ universe.
And, please, do not get me wrong. This is not hate, this is anger which is pain. Pain for those who are bound in some dark place where only such a search gives them what they seek. I am not hateful, I am pissed. And, sad. And, empowered. And hurt by the hurt. No one hurt me, no one did this to me, it just is.
May 2, 2007
I have a fairy in my life.
Her name is Mary; she is 11, tall, thin, with a face like truth. We fell in love a year a go and over time our connection flowers. Any time her mother comes to the college she promptly tells her, “I am going to see Kim.”
She thinks like a soul of infinite years. She is direct, flighty, is not a morning person but once she awakens she never stops expressing. I have to tell her to stop talking when I know I am not listening or have to do something in that moment. She cooperates and smiles as she does it.
She is an imp. I took her home after she spent her first weekend with me and we took the grand tour of her neighborhood. In the middle of intersections she said, while pointing, “Turn here.” Looking at her, I said, “Is this the grand tour of your neighborhood?” “Yes’, she said.
I then said,” Mary, repeat after me: I promise I will never be a navigator.” “I promise I will never be a navigator Kim.”
When it was time for me to go home her mother said to me, “Now you know how to get our of here, right?” “Hardly”, I said looking at Mary laughing.
I have a habit of stating my age aloud, as I wonder about myself and how to coalesce time with thoughts, perceptions and actions. I often hear, “You are not that old!” While drinking our hot chocolate and espresso, walking to a performance, somehow it was logical to ask her how old she thought I was. “52”, she said. I said, “Excuse
me? No one has ever said I look older than I am!” She promptly said to me, “ That’s because you pressure them by asking!” She never hesitates. She is a miracle, human, fantastic, fallible, brilliant, exceptionally visually creative, and down right whimsical in a way that only speaks in love.
Today I was out in the courtyard taking a break. I looked left and there she was, running to me, her family behind her, and without hesitation she hugged me.
This is living.
Gracious Galileo Smith
Photographers: Her Parents
March 7, 2007
Uncle Brian died.
He died in the kitchen he shared with Aunt Miriam for 49 years. He passed through reading the Sunday paper with his cat nearby. He died quickly.
When I was 15, in 1975, Uncle Brian was ahead of it all: He was onto aerobic exercise. He ate well, lived joyfully, and exercised. I believe his life was full from within. I know I felt this from him and live that way myself now. He is inside of me.
He was my soul uncle, the prince of my developmental years, a man who fathered me (one can never have too many parents), and who taught me something that has saved my life many times.
He was Jewish yet did not practice in any overt way that I could ever fathom. He found bliss in opera, Broadway musicals, creating, and his cats.
I moved away from Uncle Brian and Aunt Miriam when I was 12. I left something so unique that I could only recognize with age.
I now live with 4 cats. My mother told me she wants to come back in another life as one of my cats. Uncle Brian loved his cats, all cats.
I went back to Houston, TX for the summer when I was 15 and worked in a photography lab. Uncle Brian drove me to work in his Volkswagen Karmann Ghia, sometimes with the top down. He taught me about driving as we drove to work with opera wafting through the breeze. He told me to always focus on the white line on the side of the road at night, which would keep me safe. He was right. I have an eye condition where pigment adjustment is an ordeal at best, he has saved my life in blizzards, fogs, when high beams bore into my iris, and when the rain was so hard, and there was nowhere to pull over, a shovel for windshield wipers was the need of the moment.
Along with my father, he taught me photography by being a photographer.
It took me until my 30’s to discover opera. I did it well: San Francisco Opera House, first balcony, second row, read about the opera before I went, listened to it even.
I was mesmerized. Until then, I did not truly know opera.
He was an intelligent man, intellectually and emotionally.
Several years ago he emailed me this sentence: “It only gets better.”
Because of who he is and was, because he taught me something so fundamental, he is with me in presence. It is not just memory I have with him; it is a living.
I never told him.
I experienced the closest thing to regret I have ever felt. Not quite regret, I am too human to judge things anymore. I want him to know. So, I am releasing this to him now. I do not know all the mysteries, all the answers, how it all works.
I only know that I love him and always will.
The Endless Journey-Finding the Light at the End of the Desert
PS. Aunt Miriam is an entire story unto herself. And, I am sure she knows this. This is what she taught me.