Simply Delicious.

2012.

2012 started with an insurmountable loss. Life shattering grief and apocalyptic mourning. Literally so rearranged, deranged, shifted was my life I couldn’t find my feet in the free fall of panic and loss and crispy newness of the freedom associated with surviving the the thing I was sure I wouldn’t. 

Free Fall. Into the arms of whom ever had a hug to offer. Bed and loss and lack of hope and heartbreak and long walks. More sleep. The calm after the storm. Recovery? Smoke and pills and wine bandage lesions far deeper than the skin. Tears are far away and too closely related to feelings. For a while longer I will insist on wallowing. 

Deep breathe. apparently I have to do something. Feet? Have you found ground yet? forward motion  may not yet be an option. Higher is the only place left to go. Up sounds great I guess. I think I may have started over. 

Newness. Brightness and backyard sing-alongs. Joy flickers. Food is cooking and my kitchen is busy. I keep wishing I could call you and tell you how much fun it is living with roommates. I have a million stories that would make you laugh. 

Flickers give way to fire works. I have someone I wish you could meet. I miss you, and I’m not lonely anymore. 

Walls are crashing, and this year has worn away my rough edges. Smoothed over my sharpest bits like glass in the ocean. Broken and smashed and sanded dull and smooth-quiet in its weathered form. Humbled. Wiser. Pain and greif have awakened a new sense, that I wasn’t quite calibrated to perceive before. It is a quiet and constant joy that beats on my heart like humming birds wings and I don’t know how I have never noticed it.

Writes.

Today: September 22, 2012

Dear Today,

Fuck off.

I am going to get drunk and start fights

Fuck strangers

and pull girls hair.

deviance is burning swollen scarlet skin with letters in black ink

at least you will be warned

when you see me coming. 

That I keep my weapon on my back

and my broken heart up my sleeve where the 

tricks sleep with my favorite deceptions.

find me amongst the rubble.

quivering in traffic.

throbbing bloody heart is collecting dirt and tiny rocks. long strands of curly hair or razor wire squeezes tighter with every beat and cuts off arteries. blood spurts out of severed flesh.

I can’t seem find it 

laying

with the garbage. 

IT fits in better here

than it ever did inside my chest.

the hole left behind in my chest feels more natural than that bloody throbbing mess ever did.

hopefully I can fill it with something more durable.

like a potato. 

as I kept breaking the last one

with careless lovers and silly mistakes.

Writes. Today. katispitz

that time I went to the fair.

It was July 14, 2011. Or maybe it was July 15. I remember it was close to my brothers birthday and I was preoccupied thinking about what I was going to buy him when I stopped at the gas station to fill up on the way to the oncologist. I should have been more concerned about yet another round of chemo meds that didn’t seem to affect the tumor filling the space where my dad’s liver once was. 

Regardless of what I was thinking about, what I wasn’t thinking about was the location of my keys when I hit the door lock and climbed out of my Acura. Cup holder. Literally a God sent AAA tow truck is in the next pump and I flip my hair and plead with the driver to pop open my door while my tank fills. He agrees, and silently collects his tools while I chatter about how late I am running, and silently wonder why he isn’t flirting with me. Before I can  thank him he is back in his truck. relieved I get in the car. Call dad and explain my delay, and how lucky I was to find a AAA truck driver, literally for the second time in two weeks after locking my keys in my car. Kaiser is running late as usual and he tells me he will meet me in the waiting room. We are both nervous, about what the doctor has to say and the conversation keeps circling back to the awkward silence that surrounded the mutual unspoken fear. Finally, he chuckles and says something to the extent of “its never as bad as we think it is- lets just get it over with.”

The Doctor walks into the rooms and stutters my name. My heart sank. 

Walking out of the room, I am crying so hard the nurse gives my a hug and a handful of tissues. I wipe my face and ball them up and leave lint all over myself. Were silent walking to the parking lot and when we get there he leans forward to hug me too. I leave lint all over the back of his Navy work shirt and think about how much longer he will be working. And how all of the sudden the number of dad hugs I have left are finite. I wipe my eyes again, and his twinkle, “Can I ever be right about anything?”

We called out of work and went to the fair. I ate a fried Klondike bar and we drank a few beers. 

I never want to forget one second of that day. It was the worst day of my life.

Writes. katispitz

Today is rushing by quickly. I probably don’t have time for words right now, but I feel like I have extras and they wouldn’t take them with the surplus jackets and worn winter blankets at the local good will. I will have to find somewhere to drop them off. They are beginning to fill the downstairs and leak out of cracks in the windows and under the doors. The dogs fight over them, and I keep tripping over vowels and conjunctions. they are soon little I don’t see them piled around chair legs and huddling beneath their trapped companions in the local register. Little army men of consonants form syllables  and battalions, mounding under the rugs I sweep them under, scurrying across the dirty floors, dropping commas and exclamation points as tiny evidence of their surge. I catch the cat carrying around “SYMBOLISM.” I pried his jaws open and as soon as the poor trembling creature hit the counter it scurried underneath the cupboards, dripping ink from a wound very near the tip of its “Y.” I wonder if it will be ok, and decide its best to leave some liquid paper where “SYMBOLISM” can find it, just in case.

Blank pages liter the house, except for one dirty piece I tore from a sketch book where I managed to trap “AND” “ALAS”  as well as “AARDVARK” after I found them asleep in a drawer, but I think they are plotting an escape as the last time I checked “AND” and “ALAS” were fine, but “AARDVARK” was missing an “R” and really resembles “AADVARK” now. Sigh. I probably shouldn’t have released “SYMBOLISM” so easily. 

Writes.
Ad for Hey Gorgeous Boutique #heygorgeous #belts #bettyboopface #katispitz #model #jewelry #fashion #eyelashes #makeup #gorgeous #accessories  (Taken with Instagram)

Ad for Hey Gorgeous Boutique #heygorgeous #belts #bettyboopface #katispitz #model #jewelry #fashion #eyelashes #makeup #gorgeous #accessories (Taken with Instagram)

eyelashes fashion jewelry belts makeup accessories katispitz heygorgeous gorgeous model bettyboopface
#SpeakEasy @alexwalt @i_am_jongreene @roccodeluca  (Taken with Instagram)

#SpeakEasy @alexwalt @i_am_jongreene @roccodeluca (Taken with Instagram)

speakeasy
Update. #workinprogress  #indiaink #paint  (Taken with Instagram at The Venture Compound.)

Update. #workinprogress #indiaink #paint (Taken with Instagram at The Venture Compound.)

paint indiaink workinprogress
#paint #workinprogress #indiaink #mixedmedia  (Taken with Instagram)

#paint #workinprogress #indiaink #mixedmedia (Taken with Instagram)

paint indiaink workinprogress mixedmedia
I paint. #paint #indiaink #glue #mixedmedia #katispitz (Taken with Instagram at The Venture Compound.)

I paint. #paint #indiaink #glue #mixedmedia #katispitz (Taken with Instagram at The Venture Compound.)

glue paint katispitz indiaink mixedmedia
Brunch! Creamy polenta with chèvre, mushroom and roasted tomato sauce and a sunny side up egg. #mmm  (Taken with Instagram)

Brunch! Creamy polenta with chèvre, mushroom and roasted tomato sauce and a sunny side up egg. #mmm (Taken with Instagram)

mmm