my body says, NO.

and I procrastinate, fidget and facebook more so than my norm. is it self sabotage or is the body honestly just crying UNCLE? I know that today my left hand has demanded a glove (pink of course) because the thumbs print has worn thin and complains with the wire to flesh tubular resistance. I oft am at a loss as to whether it is body or mind that resists me. I am more gentle with my breaks in self judgement as I recall the few that have braved a stitch stitch with me. In the aftermath of shared experience, I was assured no one would steal my methodology and that their whole body hurt. so I am more sensitive and gracious with what may be my body’s demands. yet I fret whether it is not body but mind. I worry. I know I will be ready for my show. I always am. but I would have liked a thousand emptied bellowing frames of absence not fifty or sixty. to go with my vacant table setting of perpetually dissolved seatings.
and what’s up with all these pike tires (I would remove this auto correct but based on my medium thought it too funny–intended word was pictures) of myself posted on my own blog and facebook (ok well it is called FACEbook). where is this coming from? originally for several years both on my blog and facebook I profiled an object of my own making. somewhere around 2008-09 I switched to my human form. but this summer I seem to be posting a plethora of self. I can throw out a series of conjectures. this isn’t my first notice of the cyber behavioral shifting, but I find it unsettling in its boldness–here I am, visible, I can smile if I try, I am not even half bad or defective. look at what you put away? your loss? and do i even really believe that? bam. am I so simple and shallow I would do that? maybe? now I simply question everything. are the self pics some weird ad? way cheaper than eharmony. i don’t even have an inkling or leaning of dating intent. oh slam again. denial. self growl at unwarranted slams and apparent bams that aren’t really meant as statements but mere questions. asking myself is that what i am doing with the pics? are my images some kind of see!! statement? question myself at each turn? counter isolation? create a connection? a cyber umbilical cord of belonging? the images counter my chronology in a way my resume may lead or mislead for job securement and the art academic compulsion to hire the young, the up and coming. am i fighting the tick of time? am i archiving what otherwise would go unseen? am i talking to someone? enticing? pushing away? does it replace that reflection I’d normally understand in someone else’s eyes? that sense of awareness that comes when we pass a mirror or another? or register our own shadow? is it just a slow trickle down consequence of social media? does it create an illusion of opacity I somehow experience as lacking? does the hermitage and the microforest dictate alternate avenues of knowingness? i am here? I don’t yet understand what I am saying, I just know I keep saying it. and I find the visibility of my saying whatever it is I am saying a tad unsettling. that or I am simply stalling by writing another post avoiding cutting wire? is it body or mind that procrastinates? is it self sabotage or legit body break? and I really need a personal post proofer!

and darn. twenty some vacant bellows done. I thought more, but I just counted both the done and to do! omg 24 in my to do. double dang. no way they will all be done by Friday with faculty meetings and school resuming. the real space gallery viewer will be none the wiser. I’d be disappointed in myself (and perhaps am a bit or this post wouldnt even exist) but am aware that I am running up against my bodily limitations. so it is as it is and I make peace with it being just so (try) and turn of the mental podcasts of doubt (try). I am blaming my body because it makes me feel better and seems a viable explanation that my inner self can hold on to…

hmmm. pink gloves, apron, women’s work. yup.


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