AD.

WALKING ON THIN ICE

for better and worse


lady’s art alter – foto by smith

Answers

New morning light
On yesterday’s shadow

lady’s stopped taking her morning antipsychotic medicine because it makes her feel tired, sluggish, foggy. she still takes the night dose so she can sleep. this regime seems to be working for her – she’s creating books and websites like mad, yet still operates within parameters we can communicate from. she’s still a mite manic, still searching for higher planes of reality, but that’s a plane we all need to search more for.

i had a minor epiphany about my current inner malaise.

before lady, i didn’t care. i knew the world was bad getting worse, but it didn’t matter because i’d had a full life in which i’d created a body of art & poetry, published a slew of others in 20 years of artcrimes, and had lived an interesting life outside the barcodes. those i loved or cared about were either dead or self sufficient, so the world’s darkness didn’t much matter to me. i observed it and railed against it and used it to fuel my creativity, but knew i couldn’t stop it and that the madness was going to get worse.

then lady entered my life. the human world was still a massive pool of dark unhappiness and unfairness hell-bent on self-destruction, but the we of she and me created a magic bubble of light in which we moved and lived. we brightened the darkness wherever we were and shared our light with others still seeking.

but with lady’s breakdown, outer dark entered and dimmed our fairytale world. i thought we were safe within our self-created bubble – but no one is ever safe in this world. dealing with this has depleted my inner system of self-happiness adjustments. i have to recalibrate my mind to refill my normal pools of hope and joy.

so now it’s a question of re-creating our own world, rebuilding our own levees after the storm, so to speak. which we will, because we’re an authentic bio unit duo bonded one to the other no matter what. for better or worse, we are one.


in between – foto by smith

a heap of self (poem)

I feel like every passing year
is a something
under which I bury
my self in an idea,
a heap of self,
a resounding sound
with a kind of sonic boom,
a plunk in the kerplunk
sunk funk gunk of
myself,
truly.

for sure.

– lady

the blues


on the state of the state – foto by smith

NEW SITE

In the interest of trying to survive, I’m advertising my web development, editorial and graphic design services on this new site. Check out the portfolio if you have time. Lots of art stuff.


Web Designer, artist, and writer Kathy Ireland Smith, BSEE, is uniquely positioned to deliver high quality, artistic and professional web development, graphic design and proofreading work for your business concern.

With over 200 web sites developed, she has vast experience in search engine optimization, Paypal and e-commerce integration, internet book projects, photography and graphic design.

Her philosophy: a simple, elegant design which focuses on content delivers the best web experience.

yesterday new old today


yesterday smith – foto by smith

new: lady’s new coffee table top – foto by smith

old: smith table on bottom, lady table on top – foto by smith

today smith – foto by smith

plan mine from inner space


film noir – foto by smith

found this bunch of cryptic notes in my pocket pad:

rugs rot if you don’t render them right
biology as idiology
married by the mattress, nurtured by the vice
used condoms and old incense
plan mine from inner space
she sucks my secrets from me
in god we’re trussed

i try to harvest my pocket notebook often because they can unexpectedly disappear on you. our second time through barcelona, as we got on the subway, 2 pickpockets jammed me into the door in such a way that trapped me on one side of the door and my full backpack on the other. they buffetted me about a bit, pretending to read the route map above the door, and then left. as soon as i saw them walk away, i flashed “pickpocket” and felt my back pocket – my wallet-sized notebook where i write down potential poetry lines was gone. ever since, everytime i think of spain, i smile because of the poetry thieves of barcelona.


tablecloth – foto by smith

OAXACA CRAFTS

I’ve just created a new Oaxacan craft site that includes much covetable jewelry. I’m working with a jewelry artist on some of the pieces. Please check it out and keep it in mind for gift giving. I may add clothing and other items as time permits. I am amenable to suggestions. I pay Oaxacan vendors full price for their items.
O A X A C A J E W E L R Y . C O M

  

O A X A C A J E W E L R Y . C O M

Asian Split Pea Soup

I just made up this recipe and tried it. It’s great.

Asian Split Pea Soup

1 cooked piece chicken, diced
2 cups split peas, soaked overnight
1/2 bouillon cube, chicken
1/2 bunch parsley, diced
1 red onion, diced
5 cracked peppercorns
1 T ground cumin
1/2 t ground ginger
1 can coconut milk
2 T butter
2 T olive oil
splash wine
1 lime

Saute onion in butter/olive oil until translucent. Add parsley and cook until parsley becomes aromatic. Add split peas, chicken, bouillon, pepper, cumin and ginger and 4 cups of water. Simmer until split peas are soft. Add coconut milk and splash wine and cook down until liquid reduces by a quarter.

Blend half the soup in a blender or food processor and reincorporate into mixture. Spritz with lime juice and serve.

a minor blog with major truths


troll-like street graffiti – foto by smith

i keep thinking about the fairy tale Three Billy Goats Gruff (Norwegian: De tre bukkene Bruse) and what it teaches our children.

in it, a young billy goat crosses a bridge, beneath which is a troll who eats everyone that crosses. the troll comes up to eat him. the young goat talks himself out of being eaten by saying he is so small and his much bigger brother is crossing right behind him – the troll should eat him instead. the troll lets him go.

the second goat says the same thing – “o don’t eat me, eat my much bigger brother who’s right behind me.” the troll lets him go as well.

when the third and largest billy goat crosses, the troll comes up to eat him, but is outmatched and gored by the much larger opponent.

looking at this story from the billy goats’ perspective, it teaches us to lie, to turn on family members, to sacrifice them to save ourselves.

looking at it from the troll’s point of view, it teaches us not to turn down a free real meal now in lieu of a maybe better meal later on.

fairy tales are nasty creations. witches eat children, step-mothers poison their step-children or use them as house slaves, fathers sell their daughters, heroines lie and cheat and steal and have sex out of wedlock with animals (as in East of the Sun, West of the Moon).

psychologists say this fairy tale nastiness is good and essential because it prepares our young for the random undeserved pain and misery real life visits on real people.

i say we don’t need this nastiness – we get all the horror and nastiness we need just by listening to our politicians and corporations on our nightly non-news.

moral of this story? eat a politician or a corporate executive today – they taste just like chicken, because they are.


muffler dog in front of muffler shop – foto by smith