If you came downtown to party on Saturday night and got so drunk that you thought the bricks behind this “bush” was a good secluded spot to squat, then you should have turned around and looked up.
Yes, I am the one who spooked your dumb ass by yelling, “Hey! You cannot pee in our yard.”
Got to love the way sound travels in the concrete canyons… there was no one else out there except that ditsy drunk woman and her party friends so I knew it had to sound like a loud, authoritative voice from above. I laughed myself silly after yelling out the window because there was no hesitation. They booked down towards Boardman Street.
Rule #1 for city life: be aware of your surroundings. I’m sure the old guys would have enjoyed the view but come on… your piss would stink for days. Women who stumble down the street drunk are also easy marks for anything. If your friends had any sense, the designated driver (if you had one) would have fetched the car and picked your ass up at the bar. Or better yet, called a taxi.
This public service announcement is brought to you by crazy old women who live downtown… have fun, be safe… and don’t pee in our yard.
I have come to the conclusion that life alters my perception of reality and death, although tinged with confusion, has a way of clarifying things.
The death of my aunt altered my life as if part of my own self died. Each subsequent death (off hand count 8 humans, a friend’s dog, and my own cat) was like hammering copper. I’m hardened by the awareness of mortality. There really is no tomorrow. Someday never comes.
This is it… life: raw and real and right now.
I am told that I sing in my sleep. My dreams of late are laced with people, past and present, and then, more often than not, I wake up with Pearl Jam tunes in my head: Black, Even Flow, Alive, and this one… I Am Mine.
I’m not depressed… not manic, either. I’m just aware that life is now. Elusive dreams gave way to concrete goals with executable plans. I am focused. I am here. I am alive… living, breathing, laughing, loving, making art, cleaning house, just being grandma and all these things… savoring these moments.
Good News: my piece, Endure, has been accepted into the YWCA’s 34th Women Artists: A Celebration!
Although this juried show is held right here in Youngstown, they receive entries from all across the country. Most of the work submitted is so amazing that I feel like it is an honor just to get in. At the same time, I would be embarrassed if I didn’t because I am on the art committee. Last year, I didn’t make it… two years in a row would be bad. Of course, the committee has no say on the judge’s decisions. This year, we asked a highly qualified art historian/professor to be our juror and only stipulation given was on quantity, as the space can only display ye 125.
The show opens June 18th, so I will tell you more about it later.