The little or big black dogs.

On memory:

"We had a black dog when I was little. It would knock me down and bust open my lip every time we let it out ( at least once a week). It lived in our backyard.
That's alot of information to not be privy to." - Gingoneous

We will write more soon.
love, jessieh

"The death penalty is not a proportional punishment for the rape of a child,"

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25367455/from/ET/

because we are very upset and as a general rule,
when we are very upset we tend to not make any
rational or logical sense, we are going to refrain
from writing commentary on such things for now.

the advice of crazy, fire-breathing, snake-handling women is to be ignored on most occasions but in this situation we agree with Old Aunt Ruthie:

"THE WORLD IS GOIN' TO HELL IN A HAND-BASKET; THE GOOD PEOPLES IS JUSTA' FALLIN' IN WITH 'EM."

love, we

boy do we have a story to tell

shortly, meaning within the next 24 hours; we have a huge story to tell. this will happen once the busy-ness dies down. 4.5 days between Minnesota and I. This is good. Very good.

love, jessieh

New guest Blogger Cat.

Hi Jessieh. I wanted to tell you and everyone who reads your blog that I love you. It was terribly hot where I am today and so I was stretched out on the floor laying on my back and trying to catch a little breeze through my paws and I was thinking of you. I am going to post a big shameless picture of my big shameless self laying on the floor, trying to keep it cool and thinking of you because I have heard through the metaphorical 'grapevine' that you think I am magic and also extremely cute. You are a smart woman.
p.s.- I am glad it makes you laugh when Jenny sings you "Manic Monday" but I have to tell you that it is a little hard on my super cute and super sensitive little ears.
Love,
Your Besty Friend Forever,
Dr. Larry Lloyd

Sub-memories

"These were not memories. These were sub-memories. Images from a place beneath the waking world, deeper than a dream, a place where logic dissolved. It was beyond remembering. It was knowing." - Tim O'Brien, In The Lake Of The Woods

----

{.thank you to Denis Darzacq for the clear explain-ation.}

.post-therapy madness.

love, jessieh

Guest Post by Artconstellation.

This was our big dance video from last summer. Or one of them anyway. We will be together in just two weeks and with our friends Adam and Eve! I am sure we will have a lot of new dancing videos to put here after that. I love you Fritter. Artconstellation

the fun Nitty Gritty of Body Image, Purging and Tempting Anorexia.

Readers Note: I am not advocating eating disorders. I am not blaming eating disorders on people reading fashion magazines (because quite frankly, I believe that if you read the latest issue of Vogue or Allure and feel fat or ugly, you were feeling ugly and fat before you read it). Stop reading these magazines. If you are recovering from an eating disorder, I suggest you not read the following blog entry, for it is not likely to contribute to your recovery.

What's funny about what I am about to write is that the happenings I am about to try to work out; understand more clearly happened last night on June 16th. This morning, as I sit here trying to piece together this "oh-god, my-brain-has -been -taken -over -by- food" stuff- I began searching for a blog entry that I remembered writing about my history of eating problems as I understood them at the time. It turns out, this entry was written exactly a year before the happenings I am about to discuss. Funny, how that works, eh?

Last night, I celebrated my birthday with my adoptive family because on my actual birthday, they were out of town visiting other family members and I was here, celebrating with Ms.Hepburn, The Flague, A secret family, Sam, Jenny, Lloyd, Eve, and We the People. Anyway, this of course, is not the intended point. I was at dinner last night, a wonderful Asian cuisine, eating Sushi, talking about their Pennsylvania trip, and enjoying the company of my adoptive family and trying to remain as comfortable as possible with this whole-she's-gotten-another-year-older celebration. I was doing a really really good job. I loved the Sushi. It was so good. While I was eating it, I don't remember once thinking/hearing, YOU ARE A BAD PERSON FOR EATING THIS. and trust us, this is major progress. I was actually not worrying about my food at all, and I was actually enjoying the taste of it. Wow. Great. Good food. I didn't consider throwing it up. I didn't have that feeling in my stomach of ultimate and complete badness that 9.75 out of 10 time accompanies any meal I dare consume. I ENJOYED MY DINNER LAST NIGHT. I ENJOYED THE PEOPLE I WAS AROUND. I HAD FUN. I LAUGHED. WHEN THE USUAL FEARS DID ARISE, I COULD FIND A PAIR OF EYES TO LOCK WITH AND SOMEHOW IT MADE THE FEARS FALL APART INTO NON-LOGICAL NOTHINGNESS.
{even when we had a slice of the wonderful cake Ms. Dana brought I was not consumed by need-to-vomit-ness.}

and then, I had to come home. To a place where, it is evidently not understood that I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY WEIGHT OR THE FOOD I AM EATING with you, unless I ask you what you think about my weight or the food I am eating.

I walk through the living room, dressed in bare-nothing, shorts and a bra, headed for the laundry closet. The only person in the home who could see me strut almost-naked through the living room is my grandmother, a woman overweight, in her fifties, sitting in her nightgown, plopped pleasantly on the couch and she says to me, "OH, Honey, you're getting a little hippy aren't you?"

of course this comment started a whole series of thoughts, most of which my grandmother will never understand or know i was telepathically hoping to communicate as i stopped dead-middle of my journey to the laundry closet and starred at her, blankly, desperately trying to regain balance. The stare, however was not really blank it was a loaded stare, dead into her eyes that screamed, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? A LITTLE HIP-PY. IF YOU ARE GOING TO CALL ME FAT, SAY FAT SO THAT IT AT LEAST SOUNDS THE WAY IT IS MEANT TO AND NOT LIKE SO DISGUSTING LITTLE ADVICE TO LOSE WEIGHT BEFORE I GO BACK TO SCHOOL! YOU MUST LIKE THE IDEA OF ME HANGING MY HEAD OVER SOMETHING AND BARFING! YOU SICK DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YOU ASK ME A QUESTION LIKE THAT- IT WASN'T A QUESTION, IT WAS A STATEMENT OF YOUR OPINION REGARDING MY HEALTHY WEIGHT THAT I HAPPEN TO BE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY INSECURE ABOUT BECAUSE ON MOST OCCASIONS I FEEL THAT I WOULD BE A BETTER PERSON IF I WERE THINNER! WHICH IS ABOUT AS STUPID AND INSANE OF AN IDEA AS ME GETTING A LITTLE HIPPY. I'M NOT HIPPY YOU COW! I'M NORMAL. NORMAL. NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T THINK I AM FAT, AND YOU DON'T COUNT AS A PERSON BECAUSE YOU THINK OF YOURSELF AS A GOD AND I DON'T WORSHIP YOU FLUFFY!!!!"

of course the real excitement of this particular entire inner-monologue is the fact that she heard none of the above that was being shouted inside by an eight year old and decided to chuckle at my blank stare instead.

AND I WANTED TO DIE. THE END.

JUST WHEN WE ARE GETTING BETTER A LITTLE REMINDER COMES THAT WE SHOULD NEVER EAT AGAIN.

love, jessieh

Anewsrant & A Artconstellation

First.

Jenny (Artconstellation) did something beautiful in honor of the soon-coming father's day. Okay, she didn't (to my knowledge) set out to do this as a father's day thing, but it so appropriately fell in place that it was hard to notice and when someone does something that is so incredible- I think it needs to be talked about. I love Jenny but that is not exactly why I am writing. I am writing because the idea of what she did is really big in my brain and it is hardtoholdontofortoolong or I want to crawl somewhere and make myself go to bed.

She made a business card, you know those really inexpensive order-online business cards advertising her work and her blog and herself as person(hood). Okay, wait, back up- in order for this to make sense I should introduce Jenny. She is a very big superhero of mine. The following information can be found on her blog but this is a little summary: She is a survivor of seventeen years of horrific sexual abuse. Her father was her abuser, this of course, is one of many reasons why father's day is not exactly the best of days for her. She is also an artist, who is about to move to Italy to marry the love of her life and continue her art career.

But the really-big-deal-happy thing that we are writing about is this:

The Incredible poet Sharon Olds wrote a poem called I go back to May 1937. The last lines are "I say Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it." Instead of clinging to that safe place of non-motivating, yet really really expressive and healthy anger- Jenny is doing something more. She is telling about it. About her experience as an artist, about her experience as a woman trying to cope with 17 years (please take a moment and realize this is how long I have been alive) of terror, while living with other inner people, and managing to somehow stay intact enough to impact others and encourage and brighten and try to move her two cats to Italy, so that she can get married (which if you haven't seen the statistics about marriage and sexual abuse and DID, you should look into it), and promote awareness and kindness and an END TO WORLD GONE WRONGNESS. This is the woman we are talking about. This year for father's day, she is going to be telling about it. Before she leaves for Italy she will be making a trip to another part of the US and her cards will be going with her, they will be left in every public (and private) place she encounters. Then, she is off to Italy where her cards will be spread throughout another country and each one labels her as an artist, a writer, and a sexual abuse survivor. Imagine all of the people that will encounter this statement of

"Yes this horrible horribleness happened

and Yes I am telling about it

and Yes there is something we can all do to end this sickness

and Yes you are not alone. "

I am in awe of her strength and I am so excited for what is to come.

A picture of the business card can be found here. (It wouldn't load on my blog for some odd reason. I will try again soon.)

Second.

The news reporter for the local news just said, "A local pastor is accused of the unthinkable with a child". The "unthinkable" that was being referenced is the sexual molestation of a teenager. While I AM COMPLETELY GRATEFUL that the media is actually covering it and not minimizing the severe nature of the crime, I realizeWE REALLY DO HAVE A HUGE HUGE PROBLEM WITH DENIAL AND NOT LOOKING AT REALITY IN THIS COUNTRY IF THE "UNTHINKABLE" is a teenager being molested. This is not unthinkable, this (being SEXUAL VIOLENCE) is happening every single moment of every single day. 1 out of every 3 girls will be the victim of attempted or completed sexual violence before she turns 18. This is not unthinkable. I've been reading/writing/drawing/trying to forget/hearing/living/dealing/coping with/THINKING about it for a LONG LONG TIME.

love, jessieh

PS: Anne Frank would have turned 79 yesterday. In case we didn't already say that.

.ten/notes/of/the/evening.

1. This quote: (Roughly) "Eating disorders are not the real problem-people have much bigger problems and they are taking it out on their food."- Jenny (Artconstellation)
2. Two pairs of blue jeans were purchased on behalf of my body.
3. I AM NOW OFFICIALLY LEAVING FOR MINNESOTA ON JUNE 30TH. (PLEASE SEE COUNTDOWN CLOCK ON THE LEFT HAND SIDE OF THE SCREEN, RIGHT ABOVE THE MUSIC PLAYER THAT SAYS "MUSIC THAT SOUNDS LIKE ANI DIFRANCO". CLICK ON THAT WHILE YOU ARE AT IT.) THE PLANE TICKET HAS BEEN PURCHASED AND WE ARE READY TO GO!
4. I'm working on something special starting tonight.
5. Thanks to a Ginger, I'm not only journaling in the most beautiful handmade journal in the world but I'm also learning (okay, so attempting to learn) how to use a camera and while I don't really know that much I do know that the smaller the number on the f-stop (? probablyscrewedthatup?), the more light that is allowed in.
6. I took a picture a year ago of this orange chair next to a tree on the property of the former state mental hospital. Every week when I would ride by, the orange chair was still their as if someone attended to its being there on a regular basis. Today was the first time I passed by and did not see it. I looked around and there was nothing. Drove another 9 feet, there it was placed facing away from the oak tree it sat under for so long and now every time there is an idle moment of "ohgod,coulditbethatwearenotthinkingfortwosec-NO!"- I hear two things, 1.) "YouareaBADperson." and 2.) "SOMEONE HAS BEEN SITTING IN THAT ORANGE CHAIR." I took another photograph of it today.
7. The above picture was taken on the night of scenes, also the night of the Roe v. Wade performance. Last night Sam (the beautiful creature on the right in the photo above) and I went to Waffle House. We colored together in our new sketchbooks/journals/hash brown-stained napkins. She brought a box of 120 crayons. That was nice and fun. We were re-introduced to a Vietnam Veteran named Ron who has schizophrenia, but spends his time doing handy jobs for local Pentecostal churches. He is very elderly and kind but I am afraid of him. We then traded sketchbooks, only to discover that on JUNE 9th we both wrote the exact same first lines in our sketchbooks and didn't even know it. That was a truly beautiful moment, we just kind of looked at each other and said, "I told you we were soul mates" with our eyes. We then continued on in the experience of waffle housing and discussed things not of an eternal matter. Then the discussion changed and there we were talking about the end of the world again over diet coke and coffee.
8. "They tell me I'm crazy, but you told me I'm Golden." was part of the first lines.
9. Children all over the world are being hurt in unimaginable ways.
10. God is love.

love, jessieh

Deliver Us From Evil

love, jessieh

secret in another language.

.it's funny almost, how we all speak the same language anyway.

Birthday Wishes from Jenny Inc. (Artconstellation) & the Magical Hunk of Kitty Cat Goodness

love, jessieh

(and Mr.Murray and Mr.Day and Jason are working on a show together today. It is something I programmed mentally 2 months ago and just reemembered. I hope that is going well for them. )

Weak in IPA: Post One

" It really doesn't matter how many drawings you do, or how many other ways you try to fix it, you can't. " -Vivian

(this drawing = post-today fears.)

love, jessieh

And granny almost pooped her pants.

"WAIT! Go BACK! WAS THAT PAT ROBERTSON SITTIN' WITH- NO! OH LOAARDD."

- granny (the crazy lady)

I was more than a little happy.

love, jessieh

Polaroid Found

love, jessieh

Sunday Post: 23 (?) in 2

I will write more soon.

love, jessieh