So You Can See My Brains

I just finished my night-time cigarette, the one I’d have with a friend if anyone was around. But there’s you and that’s nice. You’re channelling me now. You probably hear my voice in your head and you have an idea about how I might be feeling. Either you’re my friend sitting and listening, or you are me and we’re sharing a brain.

But I was thinking about how much I love this city, and how I am this city. It’s taken me ages to get here and I will never be able to call another place home. I was watching the boats move around on the bay and thinking, damn, my life is perfect, right now in this very moment.

I was also thinking about how boring a blog about my paintings would actually be. For instance, the one I finished today, 3 days on this fucking thing and it sucks. It looks all faded and burnt up. I’m not self-loathing. I can paint but everything can’t be a masterpiece. And they definitely aren’t all worth writing about.

I want a blog that says my brain. And here it is. I took a job at a cafe today. I want to make money so I can go to Kentucky for Christmas. I want to see my sister’s new apartment and hug my grandparents. I miss them. And I miss my friends.

I’m pretty sure I will always be pretty alone, happy, but without my own family, without kids. Sometimes I think I want kids but then I remember how changeable I am and that I probably only want them because other people have them. I am better alone, as a painter, unbound so I’m not jealous. This is how I really think.

Goodnight dear reader. Make today exceptional. There aren’t many left.


Private Journal Summer 09- present

This is when I learned about sacred geometry and had my first month-long go at veganism. Currently I’m about 80% vegan, a goal not completely abandoned.

I started doing a lot of drawing inside the vesica piscis and playing with auras and plant vibrations. Patrick and I broke up and I began a bout of celebacy, partly to see if I could and partly just to wait in honor of my beloved.

I had my very first “awake” experience

and I began goal-setting
under the guidance of my dear friend Ohia.

I went to Burning Man and shared a village with the futurists who taught me about seasteading and singularity… and now that’s what I’m painting.

My goal as an artist is to show my audience how far we can go as a society. I want to show landlocked citizens what the ocean-scientists and engineers are building. I want to bring the metaphysical into a tangible, readable, mainstream form. And I want my images to be affordable and beautiful so that people can proudly display them in their homes as a daily reminder of how big we can be. I want to make people curious and help them share ideas. IDEAS. VISION. DISCOVERY. POW!

Private Journal Spring 09-Summer 09

entry i:
I bought this journal before completely finishing the last one. The copper journal has fallen asleep and you are my journal of surprise, rebirth, gratitude, health and infinite love.

Today Clint and I went to the arboretum and handed out waters, then I went to Jame’s house and bought this journal (, a new place to store my secrets. A secret- whenever I talk about how I paint everyday, I’m not! Ha! But enough. I’m in transition right now. No paint, just reading, writing, loving this space.

I never want to experience winter again. I was just thinking of the winter foods left on my shelf- a can of coconut milk, some sunshine dust, dried orange lentils, gogi and Indian teas, rice newtles, a bag of popcorn seeds. I never want to see these things again.

I’m outside at the picnic table. The last couple of days I’ve had to access the apartment through the kitchen window. I don’t feel like going in now because I’m all in boxes, homeless and loving it.

a poem:

“Where I’m from”
inspired by George Ella Lyons poem “Where I’m From”

I am from a rainbow flavored coffee house between the hood and gentrified Lexington.

I am from spindly trees with shiny plastic necklaces hanging from branches.

I am from a womb carried east from California to be shattered at the hands of some other man.

I am from holy water.

I am from bread thrown to hungry geese, never wasting, never wanting.

I am from black hair dye, red lacquer on canvas, and on my face.

I am from autonomous signs. God. Is. Love. and the pennies thrown at our golden heads.

I am from recycling bins, the curious saving that goes unseen.

I am from newspaper.

I am from tomato seeds spit on trophies handed over by old men.

I am from tired lovers.

I am from crashing boats and and un-sticky stickers.

the rest:

I was at Omega for the whole of this journal. I learned tarot, vortex healing, I became a Reiki master and began a personal yoga practice. I decided to seek my beloved when I found this line in a Rumi book, “The Beloved is all there is. The Lover is a dying thing.” This is also about the time I fell in love with house music.

The Missing Journal Fall08-Spring 09

I’ve decided to post bits of my private journals so as not to leave gaping holes in my story. My first summer at Omega I decided to quit posting to my blog because I was doing a lot of fast growing and I was in the mood for privacy. It’s a little more than a year later and I feel ready to talk… but I don’t have that first journal. It’s in Kentucky. I’m in San Francisco.

It mainly describes my introduction to energy modalities, my downtown apartment with the lovely Sarah Miller (, Chris Conner’s month-long visits, guerilla art and working as a painter by day (, and a barista ( by night. The winter was too cold and I decided I never wanted to experience 5 months of gray ever again. The plan was to downsize, move to Omega ( in the spring and head west in October.

By April 13, 2009 I had placed all my paintings, given away all my dresses and was New York bound.

Sarah and Jordan stringing beads for “The Wishing Tree” in my beroom at The Burrow