Triggered but fabulous

I grew up in a house of males. My sole purpose in life was to irritate everyone in my house every day. Challenge accepted. Mission accomplished. 

My dad is from that generation who believes a woman cooks, cleans, and breeds all while physically polished to perfection and in a pair of expensive heels and a string of pearls. Thing is, my dad still cheated on his wife (constantly), had babies with other women, three that still live today, my age, I’ve never met them, and when he dumped up, he threw out his wife and moved his mistress in. Those action taught me more about the roles of men and women, than learning how to cook and clean. I like the shoes. Obviously. 

You can either be a mistress or a wife. Take your chances. I would be happy just to meet a man to hang out with who likes seafood, drinks wine, likes to be outdoors, likes movies, is LGBT cool, and has a pleasant overall kindness about him. I’m 49 years old and I haven’t met him yet.  But my dear friends in the LGBT Vegas community insist I can no longer be alone. They’re “worried about me”. We had a serious chat last night and they’re tired of me showing up to date nights by myself. They want to double date and feel awkward when it’s them and just me. 

Being single is no longer a plague in just the straight community it seems, it’s a plagues in the gay communities as well. And according to my gay friends, bringing along another gay male friend “doesn’t count”.

Why can’t I just be alone?

“Because it’s not normal!” 

You guys are going to judge me on normal? Really? Well son of a bitch.

Whoever said gays aren’t conservative, don’t know queer about gays.

Remember that line in ‘Sleepless in Seattle’ about a woman more likely being killed by terrorists than married after the age of 40. Well now it really is true unfortunately, only I have no interest being married. 

My friends in the LBGT community are on a man hunt among the straights for me. Soooooo this should be interesting. 

’notherfucker

No, I still don’t understand. Why couldn’t the eagles take the ring to Mordor? 

There I go again. Thinking. I’m trying to quit. Do they make a patch? 

Who cares I still love all the LOTR movies.

No seriously, why couldn’t the eagles take the ring to Mordor? 

Yesterday I stepped outside around noon to find my street blocked off by two squad cars and yellow tape. More specifically to find my street blocked off by yellow tape from the start of my building, until the end of my building. Um. Ok. What happened? 

No. Wait. I don’t want to know.

“Just stay on the sidewalk ma’am.” Instructed one police officer. “You can walk down the street. Just stay on the sidewalk.”

There’s a thrift store across the street from me where I picked up a few used DVD’s. 

This Kavanough fiasco is ridiculous. 

Kavanaugh drank heavily? Oh no. Oh me. Oh my. Whatever shall we do?!

I don’t trust people who don’t drink. Life is a pile of shit, flies, and corpses just waiting for yours. If you don’t drink that means you’re either on drugs, or you’re too crazy to know life sucks most of the time. Ergo we drink just to tolerate each other. No? Just me? Fine. I drink so I can tolerate you. Coping skills. 

I’ve lived a long time on my own. So many women pluck guys at random and think they can shape and mold them into perfection. Truth is, I want me. Just me. Because equality means more to me than anything else a man has to offer. I can do it all on my own. Been doing it on my own for years. I’ve encountered many o’ things no woman (person) should ever encounter but it is what it is. What do I need a guy for? I don’t. But if one day I meet someone I actually want, but therein lies the question. What do I want? I want me. 

I’m good to people until they give me reason not to be, and then my pretty lacy white lady gloves come off. 

I can take a hit. 

I can get my hands real dirty.

My words will burn you hotter than hellfire. 

Oh the boys I’ve made cry.

It’s a skill.

Politician’s daughter. You know.

On the other hand, I can write beautiful words, inspire a generation, and draw glorious pictures. 

Still 

In the end

It’s just shit, flies and corpses.

I am reminded of that old pirate sage Captain Jack Sparrow: “The only rules that really matter are these: what a man can do and what a man can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so you'll have to square with that some day. And me, for example, I can let you drown, but I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesies, savvy? So, can you sail under the command of a pirate, or can you not?”

If not, I’m perfectly fine letting you drown. 

We all die someday.

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“More wine!”

Mia Farrow. Oh sure. She’s stable. Just like her kids. Especially the one hysterically crying on TV. Right on cue. Bravo. Well done. Someone get her an agent.

Brad Slitt’s pet opossum eating grapes is the cutest thing.  Turn the volume up. Her munching sounds are adorable. Someone get that fluffy little girl more grapes. Pronto! 

I’m listening to the Yoshida Brothers while drawing. https://youtu.be/Tkz0d60JYuA

Years ago my oldest brother was dating/living with a girl who drove me absolutely insane. She was super hyper. Talked incredibly fast and loud. And every day when she came home from work she blasted Japanese opera on the stereo for a good solid two hours. Back then she was this very skinny, short haired white girl who you could easily mistake as a clean functioning crack addict if you didn’t know better. I assume she’s still white but lord Jesus who knows. She drove me crazy. The first time I met her I had planned to visit with my brother for 2 weeks. Because of this girl he was living with, I ended up visiting with my brother for 5 days. I could not wait to get the fuck out of there.

Japanese opera is the worst “music” on the planet. I’m a tenor. I like tenors. Andrea Bocelli all the way. My voice in normal conversation is very soft. Lily Taylor, soft. I can’t stand loud and high pitched voices. Drives me crazy. BUT I love meditating and drawing to the Yoshida Brothers. Would I watch the Yoshida Brothers in concert? Not on your life. But I happily buy their music. They’re a huge part of my creative process as of late. I stare at a blank sheet of drawing paper, pop open a bottle of wine, play the Yoshida Brothers, and within 15 minutes images in my mind appear on the blank sheet of paper. It makes me laugh afterwards because I think of my brother’s ex-girlfriend (what’s her name?) every time. She ended up dumping my brother because he wouldn’t marry her. 

(Thank god he didn’t marry her!) 

Anyway

Greta Van Fleet said their musical inspiration comes from Aerosmith. (Aerosmith??) Um. Are you sure? Have you guys heard yourselves play? Not quite Aerosmith. Guess again. Go ahead. Guess. We’ll wait.

https://youtu.be/aJg4OJxp-co

Even your videos are so NOT Aerosmith 

https://youtu.be/86_vnQc1oBE

C’mon!

Harder than marble

I just read the reports on psycho couple Dr Grant Robicheaux and girlfriend Cerissa Riley. A perfect example of a loser degenerate couple. Rot in hell, both of you. What pathetic waste of lives. 

Creeps in the world are in part why we have art, music, and theater. We can escape from degenerates, from sickness, from pain. 

My love for God-like male form is how I create my hero, my lover, my love, everything I’ve ever wanted, for all eternal, immortal.

I adore Renaissance painters and sculptors. There has never been a more talented era of artists. 

LA Artist JUN CHA, knows https://youtu.be/0iaJddzEaow

Male model: Kyle Clarke http://kyleclarkefitness.com

Motherducking torment

Gender equality!

Equal pay! 

How do I get equal pay to Pablo Picasso? 

Picasso after death. Not before.

Equal pay! No? Can’t do it? Damn. Worth a try. I made a sign and everything. 

I found a local art supply store up the street from me wedged in between a furniture store where no one speaks English, and a “vintage shop” where nothing is vintage just old broken and dusty. The art supply store is great. Has all my tools. And being that I’m in the art district, I imagine it wouldn’t be hard to find what I want anyway. Everything else however...

Since I’m new in town and haven’t yet begun to look for male models, I rely on men’s fitness magazines for reference shots, only.... 

Men’s health and fitness magazines are considered adult content (aka pornography) where I now live and are not sold anywhere but in sex shops. 

And

Because I Heart Radio, and Life Is Beautiful, are both going on this weekend, traffic is currently a nightmare. 

I’m not attending either. No thanks. I was more excited when I learned the football coach in Forrest Gump, was actually Enos from (80’s tv) The Dukes of Hazard. 

Enos! 

Loved that guy.

So until I find my male models and/or get to a sex shop, I’ve downloaded a bunch of Kyle Clarke photos that were shot by Michael Stokes.

“Why don’t you ever draw women?”

Stare at some girl all day? Nope. No. Pass. Boring.

Stare at a hot male fitness model like Kyle Clarke all day. Yup. Sweet Jesus. Hi! 

“You know he’s gay, right?”

Yeah. Um. Can you please move out of the way, honey. I can’t see Kyle Clarke’s delicious body I’m totally going fantasize licking up and down later.

New girl in town

I was awoken in the middle of the night by an evil charley horse (muscle cramp) in my left calf muscle. How rude. Good lord it was painful. Apparently I stretched my leg and my calf muscle just wasn’t having it. Nope. It cramped up in an awful way and turned me into a little whimpering human ball of rheumatic convulsions. Sexy. Two minutes later the pierce excruciating pain in my leg subsided. I cursed the day and went back to sleep. 

An artist I once casually referred to as a friend back in 2009, went crazy or so I recently learned when he lost his vision in 2015. Honestly I didn’t know him very well back in 2009. I only knew him as an artist, a fellow tradesman in the LA circuit. I didn’t know him as a person. Was he mad before he lost his vision? I don’t know? Aren’t we all? Isn’t the madness of an artist a personality portrayed? No matter who he paints the painter always paints himself. Be that, whether he was or wasn’t crazy before losing his vision, losing your vision is among the worst things for an artist I can only imagine having to suffer and endure. And yet, according to philosophy and psychology scholars, your wiring is predisposed prior to adulthood and therefor only matures for as long as you shall live. Some adults are simply prone to accept defeat. 

A leopard unable able to change his spots.

Fuck that.

A few days ago I met the most remarkable man. His name is Christopher. He’s from Germany. I estimate his age to be in his 50’s. He’s deaf and walks with crutches. His legs don’t seem to move at all on their own. And I wondered why Christopher preferred the struggle of using crutches over a wheelchair. Perhaps using crutches is all he’s ever known? Perhaps a wheelchair would be even more of a struggle? Perhaps his crutches aren’t a struggle for him at all? And even though he’s deaf he can still read lips and have a basic conversation in English. This amazing man traveled from Germany to America on holiday, alone. 

Whenever I meet someone this interesting I have so many questions, but unfortunately due to circumstance my curiosity will have to yet again go unanswered. 

All I am left with is a visual description

Where there’s a will, there’s a way. 

Make it happen.

There’s so much work to be done in this new apartment of mine. After I finished putting together my tv stand, I noticed a low beam on the ceiling facing the other side of my kitchen counter and pondered putting up a velvet curtain. 

But that will have to wait.

I’ve been the new girl in the Art District for two weeks and have yet made my presence known. 

Time to make some introductions.

Fuck you Claire!

I love movies. I love going to the movies. I love watching movies from home. I love writing, reading, and making art. I can watch movies alone or with an apartment  full of people. I can disagree with an actor’s politics but still enjoy his films. 

If we’re hanging out and there’s an opportunity to jokingly say with fake tears, “Fuck you, Claire. Fuck you.” And you don’t know what John Hughes 80’s movie I’m quoting, we might have to redefine the nature of our association. 

Imagine my surprise when Facebook banned my good friend Patrick for 24 hours simply for playing along with my “quote this movie” FB game. 

The movie in question: The Outsiders

There’s so many good quotes in this movie. Like... 

"You know what a Soc is? White trash with Mustangs and madras." 

Which was the quote Patrick posted playing my game. Resulting with Facebook banning my friend for 24 hours. 

Big brother 

How sad. This is where we are now? Banned on social media for quoting a movie. 

None of his friends are entirely sure which word/s in the quote offended Facebook.

Trash?

White trash? 

?

Patrick Blaine is an amazing artist. We met in Los Angeles waaay back when LA was still good for artists. We both draw the male form but in different genres. He’s more fantasy art, I draw figures. Patrick has always been like a brother to me supporting my artworks through the many years, to which I’m greatly appreciative and humbled even though I write more these days than draw. 

I stay on Facebook because that’s where all my friends are to keep in touch. And for you artists who still showcase, you guys know the ridiculous politics of doing gallery/museum displays. Aside from ever changing deadlines, attitudes, egos, who you know, matching genres, there’s also censorship. You make 20 pieces and (maybe) 12 will be accepted for consideration. But in the end only 5 pieces will actually be displayed if you’re lucky. And a lot of that has to do with censorship and not always in the way one might think. 

EXAMPLE: One LA gallery curator told me, “These pieces are beautiful but they’re too out-of-line for my upcoming exhibit. I’ll contact you when I have a show that’s more fleshy.” 

Fleshy?

Apparently my male nudes didn’t fit in with his exhibit of nudes?

Strange

But after seeing the artists/pieces this curator selected for the upcoming show I understood why. All the pieces on display were of women, nude, contorted, and made for shock value rather than skillset and hard work. Every piece looked like something that was randomly sloshed together within fifteen minutes. I was so disgusted that when this curator contacted me years later I politely declined exhibiting in his show. Not because of the content of his previous shows like this one particular exhibit, I just didn’t want to be associated with someone who’s chose shock value over skill, hard work, and talent.

It takes longer than fifteen minutes to draw a decent hopscotch board on the sidewalk. Paintings/drawings should look like it took longer than fifteen minutes to make. 

Yup. I’m a snob. Talent and effort matters. 

People ask how long it takes to draw large scale, 18x24, 24x32, and the answer is, if I were to draw nonstop it takes up to 100 hours per piece. 

And while FB and others criticize and censor the language used in The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton was only 17 years old when she wrote that book. What were you doing when you were 17 years old? Criticizing and censoring other people’s hard work and talent you don’t have?

I may not like someone’s work, but when it’s evident I’ll still appreciate the struggle, labor, discipline, and accomplishment. 

Recognize people for their work 

Or lack thereof. 

Nazis in Morocco!

Billy and his family are doing well in NC. There’s no place in NC they can truly go without feeling the affects of hurricane Flo. Last they saw there was tree damage in their back yard. Let’s hope nothing further happens. Can’t wait until you guys visit in October! Be here October 5th. We’ll go to First Friday. I live right down the street. 

To stop the glass from banging against the frame on windy nights, I folded my Target receipt and stuffed it in between the glass and frame, upper right hand corner. Squeak and bang no more! 

Problem solver. That’s me. 

I have nothing but respect for people with electronic can-do. I’m terrible with hands on electronics and building things but I have pink girlie tools and a modest functioning brain. I’ll give it the old college try before going to the professionals. A leg is missing off the TV and knowing absolutely nothing about televisions because I use them to only watch movies, I went to Best Buy to inquire about another leg. I was fully prepared to be shamed. And shamed I was. 

The young lady at Best Buy snidely reported, “I’m sorry ma’am. We don’t carry TV legs. You have to go to the manufacturer for that, m-kay?” 

Um

Ok

Sure

Then without saying another word, the young lady spun on her heels and headed off to join her co-workers who were milled around the 60-something inch TV’s.

I then walked behind Best Buy to Target and bought a tv stand. 

I have tools

I can put a tv stand together

Problem solver. That’s me. 

Hopefully next Friday night will be the return of movie night. I have ‘Casablanca’ and ‘Notebook’ on hand. For now. I’m open to suggestions. What I won’t do is post movie night on social media anymore because (for whatever reason) people who I don’t know very well get mad and IM me nasty messages. Look, if we’re friends on Facebook its because we met at least once and I didn’t think you were a horrible douche of a human being then. Things change. I get that. 

One guy actually told me to clear my head of wine before I post movie night on social media, and that I should STFU and think about what I’m posting before I do it. 

I know right

Movie night

A group of low-key people coming over to hang out, eat popcorn, socialize and watch movies.

Wow

I’m such an asshole

(Well that guy’s not invited that’s for sure.)

I’m finally getting a Christmas tree again this year. Let’s see who I can piss off by having people over to decorate it. 

It’s not not even autumn yet and I’m making Christmas tree decorating plans. 

Ever host get togethers with people from Los Angeles? Enough said. 

So real in the dark

Having a remote control air conditioner, is like having an alarm clock that impersonates a freezer. Regardless of what comfy temperature I set my air conditioner at, 4am I wake up freezing cold. And as I sleepily reach for the remote control I naturally hit all the wrong buttons just like back in the day when I had a radio alarm clock, only now I’m freezing cold, synthetically awake, minus Jukebox Hero playing in the background in between loud beeping. 

It’s been very windy here in Vegas. I have officially slept in my new apartment six nights now, and for the past two nights the  loose screens on my windows have been banging against the glass, along with tree branches scraping against the window frames.

This morning there was a very handsome police officer trying to calm down a hysterical woman just outside my front steps at 7am. 

I have determined something evil in my new apartment doesn’t want me to get any decent sleep. Ha. Jokes on you. My bladder wakes me up every two to three hours no matter how snoozy I get. 

Today is my day off. My mission is to find another leg-stand for the TV. For some reason one is missing. Can’t host movie night at (Simone Gordon’s) apartment with a lopsided screen. I’ve taken a bunch of pictures of the bottom of the tv, of the one remaining leg-stand, and look forward to all the eye rolls I’m going to receive from the sales guys at Best Buy. 

What outfit says electronically shamed?

I also have about 5 loads of laundry to do which means discovering my new laundromat. 

Maybe I’ll wander down Fremont tonight and check out bands. 

Few nights ago I heard one band cover (Simple Minds) Don’t You. I love that song but I was coming home from work, beat, and just wanted to get home. I live in a walk-up with a standard iron security gate that secures mine and my neighbor’s apartments followed by a flight of stairs to get to our apartments. Maybe I should leave my neighbors a note letting them know not to worry if they find me passed out on the steps. As long as I made it through the security gate, I’m fine. 

I had a short list of things I did not want in my new apartment, and stairs was on the list. But being as how my long time friend and his family are forced to evacuate from their North Carolina home this morning, who am I to be so petty about steps. At least I have a home.

(My door’s always open, guys.) 

It’s only September, but...

I have Thanksgiving (and the day after) off. 

Ideas? Anyone?

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I woke up to an inch of water on my bathroom floor. That’s it. I can’t take the fun times any longer.

A pipe burst. My apartment stunk like sewage for an entire day. Good times. The cleaning lady was fast and amazing but she stole my toilet paper. Not the toilet paper still in the package, she stole toilet paper from the role. WT (serious) F?

The guy above me comes home at 3am, slams things around, stomps on the floor, and religiously wakes me up precisely at 3am. He makes stupid loud noise juuuust long enough until I’m fully awake and then he suddenly gets quiet. 

Not to mention... 

The junkies shootings up heroin on the side of my building in broad daylight in front of kids, aaaand the hookers using my laundry room as a go-to date place IN BROAD DAYLIGHT. 

“Don’t move downtown it’s ghetto.”

As opposed to... ?

I moved.

Shut up. Come over. I’ll make lasagna. 

I found a nice little apartment. Suits me just fine. It’s walking distance in between Fremont and the art district. And if you’re too bougie’ to hang above the strip then I guess you don’t get any wine. Or lasagna. 

I’m watching ‘Fear and loathing in Las Vegas’. 

“Don’t fight it. You’ll get brain bubbles.”

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Let people talk shit, girl.

Who cares

She’s just jealous of you.

Your friends love you. 

MY girl friends are amazing. I got their backs, always. Need a place to crash? Drink bottles of wine? Order Chinese food until we both go into kung pao comas? Girl, I got you! 

I know exactly who you’re talking about. Her friends will stab her in the back for a slice of cheese. Oh well, she has 350,000 followers on Instagram. Who needs real friends when you got Instagram? 

Giiiiirl 

If I had that “I would climb any mountain; Sail across the stormy sea; If that’s what it takes me baby; To show how much you mean to me” kind of love, I wouldn’t want him sleeping with other women. Yup, I’m old fashion vanilla romantic that way. BUT considering I haven’t had that “Feels like the first time” kind of love since my actual first love back in 1989, game on! Lets! 

And that Ben, is called being a moderate conservative.

Ben Shapiro criticized me by saying “There’s no such thing as a moderate conservative.” Let’s agree to disagree oh ye young man who has not yet begun to live. 

And by “live” I mean had your insides gutted by a significant other, at least ten times over, forcing you to start over again, and again, and again, in a studio apartment with blankets on the windows for curtains, and drinking beer out of cans. Cans, god damnit! Oh the horror! 

We’ve all been there. Wait your turn. 

They may have made you famous. But I made you an otter. An otter! I turned an ex fiancé into a lawyer. So I think I’m getting better, no?

Moving on

Hey guess what?

I hate football. Always have.

Stop being so sensitive. I had a pair of Nikes once. 6th grade. $40. Classic white with red Nike stripe. And then I was introduced to New Balance, and just like all my other relationships, I dumped up. 

Speaking of dumping up, Netflix cancelled Michelle Wolf. 

BYE FELICIA 

Hear that? It’s a baby. 

A nonstop screaming crying baby. 

Fine

Challenge accepted. 

Let’s see who can scream louder.

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Around the world