if you’ve worked hard enough to run a marathon, you can wear a damn tutu! I think Monika Allen looked beautiful in her Wonder Woman outfit (and was going though chemo at the time? She’s a fucking superhero!) color me inspired
Originally posted on Fit and Feminist:
You’ve probably all seen that list of the top ten professions that attract psychopaths going around by now, right? I’ve seen it a few times, mainly because I run in circles with journalists and TV news people, and those professions both cracked the top ten. As much as I want to lodge a protest on behalf of my profession and say that we aren’t all heartless jerks who view people as little more than fodder to fill our various news holes/magazine spaces/on-air times, sometimes I see a decision made by a media outlet that is so heartless, so cruel that I cannot help but think that the psychopath-career list is more accurate than I am comfortable with.
One of those instances just happened with SELF magazine. SELF is getting called out in a big way because, well, here:
Monika Allen says she was excited to receive an email from…
View original 830 more words
Originally posted on All Things Come to Mind:
you delicately rub my strings
imagining the music within
tighter, looser, finding the perfect sound
that will make me sing –
I feel your bow dance across me
releasing my soul
soft at first, ever so light
I’m dazzled by your touch –
the need for more aches my body
and stiffens my wood –
I resonate all that is you
as you fulfill my demand –
you play me harder and faster
making such noise
as would make the gods jealous !
you’ve made me a fountain of notes
bursting in the air,
waxing and waning with your motion –
I feel your every thought
as you pour yourself into me –
the last note echoes for a moment longer
as you finish your song and cradle me in your arms
Originally posted on Eric's Mind Toilet:
View original 940 more words
light baked on the golden winter grass
fiercely glinting acid sparks
into my fragile memory
the trees bowed to slicing songs
sung in tightly woven bars
ingesting the dominatrix crop
it does stab the woven wool
as flesh were exposed without
turn up the sun’s dial
to human touch
that I may melt
upon lush petals
breathe your fire,
bake my bones,
devour the ice that eats at me,
crackle the frozen sand
bring me back to life
Amanda Palmer has asked the people of the Internet to tell her how they’ve even been funded, mainly how artists have had their art funded (http://amandapalmer.net/blog/20140305/). If she has a question, I try to give a suggestion or at least try. This time, I have nothing to offer.
I have never once have I ever been funded for what I do. The truth is, I don’t even know how one goes about getting funded. The only thing I think I have a talent for is making dolls of people and characters. I’ve even done one of Amanda herself that I’m extremely proud of because it came out the way I wanted it. People tell me all the time that I could make a fortune off of them. Really? Who wants rag-dolls? I have an extreme passion for making them, but I pay for them. I collect fabric scraps and old clothes, and get inexpensive yarn. I’ve made a few zombies that my brother ended up buying, but I’ve never sold any beyond him. Just today, an acquaintance just backed out from buying a zombie doll I made that she had requested.
Another passion is writing poetry. I’m repeatedly told that no one wants poetry. Yet, I continue to write. The difference is I don’t expect anything from the writing other than the satisfaction I created it.
Quite the opposite of being funded, I’m actually taken advantage of more than anything. The worst offence was when I made this gorgeous gown for a friend, at the time, who wanted a Belle dress for a play we were in together. I designed it, put many hours into it, but got nothing more than the cost of the fabric for it. Before that I thought a scant $50 for a pair of velvet houppelandes that I had designed and made was rough. I have countless times where I’ve helped someone in a pinch without apt payment or trade. I don’t mind helping and volunteering, but there are too many cases of blatant theft of my work.
It’s not all doom and gloom. For years I would rake in a pot of change altering and creating costumes for the dance studio I worked for since it was rare for all of the costumes to fit all of the girls. Last year, one of the dances I did all the costumes from scratch nabbed an award for the most unique costumes of that particular competition. For even longer, I’d volunteered my time and talents altering and making costumes for the local theatre troupe. This was my contribution to them as I couldn’t possibly donate monetarily. I always was prouder to see my name under costumes than as an extra in the plays. And, occasionally, I do get a friend who purchases one of my creations, for which I am eternally grateful!
I always think that one day I’ll be known for my creations or my writing or my baking, or even my knowledge. At this point, though, as it has been all my life, I have no idea how to see this being possible. I’m 40-years-old and I still don’t know what I want to do when I “grow up”. Perhaps I’m bound to be a perpetual child, but I would like the chance to grow at some point.