wild is not comforting. | April 15, 2011

“I see her almost every Saturday. She takes a figure drawing class that I also go to.

The alarm starts with the morning radio shows line up… “I don’t ask for much. Truth be told, I’d settle for a life less frightening. A life less frightening.”::snooze:: Hours later Adeline forces herself to move. She feels weight in her thoughts and brainstorms ways to alleviate it… coffee, Tylenol, diet coke… turn the heavy weight into caffeinated shakes. Turn it into anything and present a fresh face, ready to interact. “No, I promise, I’m not too broken to love,” she thinks. In the mirror black bleeds from her eyes from tossing through the night with make up on and she sees a gypsy skull instead of her face. The grease in her hair feels comfortable so she touches up her face and walks naked through her home in search of something acceptable, because her skin isn’t. Dressed a little like death with a twist of a waltz through grandma’s closet, she takes steps; side walk block by side walk block skips by side walk block, walking to the one room she truly anticipates entering. Where she can dance in the shadows with different mediums between her fingers and see people exposed and vulnerable, transcribing their shapes and the conversations through body language. She can know them without them knowing her, and she is always better off that way. Adeline is much more like an autumn storm than a trusted friend or any sort of family. She comes up quickly and her loud wind is soft but it surprises you by snapping crisply in your face. She stings your cheeks and you think you want her around you always, but the wind wears on you no matter how much of herself she gives you. Everyone ends up retreating back within themselves, back to shelter, back to safety. Wild is not comforting.”


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  1. Is this self reflection or is this about someone else?

    Comment by not needed — April 15, 2011 @ 11:58 pm

    • It is a section from a book I’m writing. so isn’t all art a self portrait?

      It’s just experience. To be related to or not. It is me throwing out existance to create our bumpers of reality.

      Comment by raven0us — April 16, 2011 @ 12:54 am

  2. no, wild is not comforting. it’s vivifying. it wakes you up and makes you real again. who would want that??! i love you. like from the roots of my toes hooked into the earth wet and wild earth.

    Comment by Sara Tansey — April 16, 2011 @ 4:51 pm

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