Living, Broken.

Now At Liberty

Little white love, your way you’ve taken;
Now I am left alone, alone.
Little white love, my heart’s forsaken.
(Whom shall I get by telephone?)
Well do I know there’s no returning;
Once you go out, it’s done, it’s done.
All of my days are gray with yearning.
(Nevertheless, a girl needs fun.)

Little white love, perplexed and weary,
Sadly your banner fluttered down.
Sullen the days, and dreary, dreary.
(Which of the boys is still in town?)
Radiant and sure, you came a-flying;
Puzzled, you left on lagging feet.
Slow in my breast, my heart is dying.
(Nevertheless, a girl must eat.)

Little white love, I hailed you gladly;
Now I must wave you out of sight.
Ah, but you used me badly, badly.
(Who’d like to take me out tonight?)
All of the blundering words I’ve spoken,
Little white love, forgive, forgive.
Once you went out, my heart fell, broken.
(Nevertheless, a girl must live.)

wit by dorothy parker
legs thru lens by me

Shame

Th’expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murd’rous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight;
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had,
Past reason hated as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so,
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows, yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

words by william s.
flesh by my parents
photo by me

Moving On Up…

To the Top.
A piece of pie?
Finally.

Theft of Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Words
“Hope” by Emily Dickinson

Paint
“Woman” by Antonio Mancini

Theft of Meaning and Beauty
“Photo of Woman” by Me

When We Have Time

We make things. Humans. Some of us make things even when we don’t have time. I aim to be that person every day but sometimes life breaks your brush or dries out your inks and sticks its ugly deadlines and lifelines in your face and yells that art isn’t important. Screw you, life. Get back on my schedule and we’ll be fine.

“Andrew at Mary Jane’s” Ink Print on Paper

Summer of Fast Pictures going by a Slow Car

This summer I lost three friends and one family member. I loved my friends and family, though not enough. I moved to Chicago. Sadie barked at a lot of cows.

Preview Night

Preview was last night. My pre show music didn’t happen. Other than that, I think it went pretty well. But of course I am now sick. So, see you all tomorrow…

A Fit Woman to Be Removed

So, it opens tomorrow. Well, preview is tomorrow. I’m a bit terrified, to be perfectly honest. But it will be what it will be. And at least it will be out of my mind, body and mouth and into the world. I’ve been researching and writing this show for the last two years. Two years of reading about horrible horrible things done to women, men and children in the name of “mental health.” The only thing I hope that might come from this is that you might walk out thinking a little differently about the bag lady at the bus stop that talks to herself. And maybe next time you see her, you’ll actually look into her eyes instead of turning yours away.

AGNES
They call her retard, idiot, cripple, feeb, tardo, fucktard, animal, shit stain, moron, freak…

Children are humane in their cruelty. It is open and honest.
Children make fun of the girl with bad clothes, the girl that doesn’t get a bath, the girl who doesn’t have food in her satchel.
Most adults are disgusted by the weak, the sick. They turn their eyes away and look into the pretty parts of themselves so that they don’t have to allow it in. They hide it away so it won’t spread to them.

from “A Fit Woman to Be Removed” by Charlesanne Rabensburg

Up Crew(namo)!

Went to the Crew v. Dynamo game last night. It was a great game that ended in a 2-2 draw. But not before all the guys standing next to me took their shirts off in 35 degree weather. I dared Ibsen to do the same and he said he’d do it if I did. So I ended up in just my tank top for about 15 minutes. There was enough screaming, yelling and dancing to keep me warm for most of it. There are photos to prove it, but I haven’t decided if they belong out in the world yet…

Not Safe For Work, except my work.

I actually gave the Marat/Sade cast the homework to go home and look up The Kama Sutra online and bring in one sexual position that they had never see/heard of/thought of. I got a a lot of “YEEESSS!” On the other hand, I got a few blank stares. Oh University theatre, how I love you. I’d be strung up if this was High School. But then, any High School that would actually be putting on Marat/Sade would be asking for it.