A long long time ago, your mother should know

if we look, there is no remembering what we are looking at

June Cleaver and Cheeseburgers.

love, jessieh

the first conversation we've had in what seems like a long long time, phone call aftermath

Last night, a little after ten here, I had what seems to be one of the only full and complete conversations I've had in the past couple of weeks. Time has been a funny, not ha-ha, but strange thing for us recently and working as a system of thoughts, rather than separate-individuals seems like it will never be possible. My artsy-constellation and I had a phone date, that was interrupted by
three other phone calls,
one dead cell phone battery,
a desire to drink a huge cup of ice cold diet coke,
a thought of the condition and discrimination of the homosexual in America,
a long series of thoughts regarding the condition of the child in America,
six monologues; none of which are even appropriate for me to memorize for school in less than a month,
this huge huge blanket of pictures of Jenny getting on a train to see a piece of art she's been wanting to see for years if she ever needs to run away while in Italy,
the realization that parts of both of us have been wondering how she is going to do this; while part of me is writing about it in a library with the sun hitting her face 14 hours earlier,
one-almost panic attack in a parking lot,
and the constant inner-chatter of a group of females ranging in age from four to forty-six.

Welcome to our life.

After the phone call, which somehow ended up being huge-crying-mess about our (singular) hypothetical fears for the future, that are really not so much hypothetical fears as they are giant concerns about past events- I hung up really wishing that I had let her do most of the talking, and feeling like a non-supportive friend- but then I realized that we (plural) did talk, and that I just felt like I talked the most because I haven't really been talking the past few days.

But it all sums up to this, in the end anyway:
She is moving to Italy in less than six days. She is taking her cats with her and will not be out of touch. On the scale of things dealt with in life, she will be able to accomplish all things.

I am going back to school in less than 25 days. I will have four contrasting monologues, two classical, two contemporary memorized before I go back and will be at least 11 pounds lighter than I am right now. And on the scale of these, seemingly very small problems I seem to be having, there is a conclusive fact that I realize about everything :

It would be so much nicer if this whole thing were about her giant, bold, brave move to Italy and my finding 3-5 minute stage worthy pieces so that my instructors are not completely disappointed in me. It is about so much more. We will both keep living. It's the most important thing. We will both be more-than-knowing in a way we wish we didn't have to know what F.Scott Fitzgerald meant when he said, ""So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

love, we

A note from my soon-to-be-Italian favorite:

The following is from my artsy-constellation:

Multiple personality disorder with a cherry on top.
I am sure that moving to a new country is challenging for most people. I think that taking two cats and having a divided mind escalates that challenge. The cat part is actually under control and as Stefano wrote in an email to me tonight, "I am so glad that you got all the forms signed so that Lloyd and Winston are ready for becoming Italian citizens." :-) So that part seems easy now compared to the whole "I-have-different-ways-of-thinking-and-those-ways-of-thinking-are-usually-not-on-the-same-page" issue. This is where the real difficulty is.

Here is a snap-second inside my head: "My to-do list seems too long.", "All of the important things have been done and now I am really just worrying while I wait- there is not much left to do.", "What if Stefano becomes overwhelmed by how much therapy work I have to do still and can not tolerate me?", "Which pants should I wear on the plane?", "Will I be able to get poultry flavored cat toothpaste in Italy?", "Is cat toothpaste more expensive in Italy?", "Why did my high school guidance counselor not inform my mother when I showed her the burns from where I was putting cigarettes out on my legs?", "I will be able to hug and kiss Stefano in less than one million seconds.", "Should I grab a box of yellow cake mix and take it with me so I can introduce Stefano to the joy of Betty Crocker on his birthday or should I make him a fruit pie instead?".

I am going to take my anti-anxiety medicine now and try to calm down. While I wait for the medicine to start working I will go back to work on the drawing I started earlier tonight.... an image of the head of Medusa.

Perfect.
---

love, jessieh

The happenings for now.

I cannot post pictures of the almost-completed mural simply because the pictures are on Eve's camera and her camera cord is missing somewhere in her house and- I just saw the most bizarre thing I have seen in awhile, allow me to interrupt the mural story and reasons why I don't have pictures yet- I am sitting in a chair, at a table, next to a giant glass window on the second floor of the Public Library. I am in the corner and if I look out of the window I can see the happenings on the street below me. Two brothers, I assume by the harsh-resemblance they bear to one another were walking the cross walk, a woman with helmet is walking her bike behind them. The two brothers both dressed in black, were walking with a certain swing in their walk and then suddenly; without apparent reason, the shorter of the brothers hit the taller one in the face. The taller brother then shoved the smaller one into the road and the biker that was following closely behind, straddled the seat of her bike and rode off in the direction she came. This indeed was a bizarre sighting for an early Tuesday afternoon and seemed to be worthy of note- Anyway, I don't pictures of the mural. I was only going to write that I am working on the play we've been writing for the past however long and will post pictures sometime in the next three days. My Great-Grandmother passed away at 1:52pm EST on Friday, July 18th. I am not saddened by her passing, she was satisfied by the life she lived.

From The State Obituaries:

Risinger, Mary Willis- LEXINGTON - Funeral services for Mary Willis Risinger, 93, will be held at 2:00 p.m. Tuesday, July 22, 2008, at Caughman-Harman Funeral Home, Lexington Chapel, with interment in Elmwood Memorial Park and Cemetery. The family will receive friends from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. Monday, July 21, 2008, at the funeral home. Memorials may be made to River of Life Christian Fellowship, 3955 Southeastern Way, Suite 3B, West Columbia, SC 29169.
Mrs. Risinger, born in Batesburg-Leesville, SC October 2, 1914, passed away Friday, July 18, 2008. She was a daughter of the late Arthur Willis and Teresa Hayes Willis. Mrs. Risinger was a member of River of Life Christian Fellowship. She was an owner and operator of 2 grocery stores in Richland County. She was a faithful Sunday school teacher and member of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. She was a faithful Christian who loved sharing Jesus with others.
Mrs. Risinger is survived by her daughters, Nelda Laird of Tampa, FL, Marie Ouzts of Cayce, SC and T***** D*** and son-in-law, B*** D*** of West Columbia, SC; son, Henry Daniel “Dan” Risinger of Lexington, SC; 13 grandchildren, 14 great-grandchildren and 1 great-great-grandchild. She was predeceased by her husband, Henry O. Risinger; sister, Bessie Hutchinson; brother, Ollie Willis; daughter, Betty R. Elkin; son, Gerald David Risinger and grandson, Dedrick Elkin.

love, jessieh

These silly kids.

These pictures are wonderfully exciting. Click here:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/artconstellation/sets/72157606011346913/

love, jessieh

out of function and other matters

we often wonder if anyone in my family ever reads my blog. i doubt it because the few times we have shared it with them, they have seemed a little less than interested. today, i got a voicemail from my mother. I haven't gotten a voicemail or a phone call from my mother in a long long long long time. It was stunning. It was quite obvious that she hasn't left a voicemail for me in an even longer time. She didn't even know what to say or how to say it; it was filled with many "ums" and "uhs" and then a really awkward remark about how they didn't miss me. I am still kind of stunned by it because for the first time I am taking a stand and saying, "No. I don't want to live this way, I don't want to be part of such an unhealthy family for the rest of my life." And now she calls. It's slightly upsetting because I was away at school for a year and will be returning soon. The entire time I was at school my parents contacted me maybe, maybe four times. I received more encouragement and excitement from strangers than I did from some of my family members. I am making a lot of choices and decisions right now and some of them are very difficult, I mean it is weird, calling up your family and saying, "Hey, I'm moving out soon, will you still sign my papers for school?" and not only do you get the response of cooperation, of "yes, I will sign them." but it is, "Yes. I will sign your papers, do you need help with the boxes?". I was a little frazzled by this response, just a little-really not that much, it was more like a stunned weirdness than anything else; I was a little bit upset. I don't really know why though. Then after talking about it and over it, we came to a conclusion; I mean IT IS A GOOD THING THAT THEY ARE WILLING TO HELP ME, and while it may be A LITTLE WEIRD that they aren't trying to fight me on this, I mean I didn't want them to fight me, I prayed that God would guide this process and I mean the less confusion the better. It would be mass-confusion if they didn't want to sign my papers, if they didn't offer to help me move. It is a good thing and it is what I really wanted. I wanted them to help me, because it makes things easier and there is nothing confusing about having a family who says, "Here, let me help you leave." But there is something sort of odd and painful about it but I guess that's typical behavior given the fact that it is all so dysfunctional anyway. As much as I don't want to admit it, any help they can offer me is going to be greatly appreciated. We have so much to figure out and we are trying not to worry or be anxious about any of this stuff, there is so much more to focus on in the next month.

Jenny leaves tomorrow. We are in complete denial. We don't want her to leave. She tried on wedding dresses today. It was so beautiful. She was in bed on Monday and Tuesday, sick with a flu she caught from two carrier monkeys on the flight out here. She flew in last Friday,on a very small-very-Mid-Western airline where instead of offering pretzels and the complimentary snack, the flight attendant came by with a tub of individually wrapped cheeseburgers. She declined and was then contaminated by the two little boy-human-carrier monkeys sitting beside her. So, two full days of her four full days with us, she was in bed and we didn't get much work on the mural done, so now I am going to be finishing it when she returns. I am a little intimidated by this task but I'm sure it will work out.

I will write more and post pictures soon.

love, jessieh

Just opened from CNN

...New DNA evidence in the JonBenet Ramsey murder case does not match that of anyone in her family, a prosecutor says.

I'm still in Minnesota. Jenny leaves bright and early tomorrow. That saddens us.

This settles.

love, jessieh

the magic erasers; party of (?)

Jenny is here. I am so happy.
I cannot even express my excitement.
I will be posting pictures of everything soon enough.
The only bad part, the city we are in has these terrible pro-life billboards everywhere and they make the people cringe when we see them.
Adam and Eve surprised me when I arrived with a bicycle that they picked up from the thrift store before I got here and it is beautiful. Jenny brought goodies one of which is an amazing quilt for my room at school with sheep all over it. I slept on the top bunk last night snuggled underneath it. She also brought other wonderful treasures like a Lloyd suitcase, I mean it is so beautiful, the magical hunk of kitty cat goodness painted on to a suitcase. What more could a girl ask for?
I am really glad I am here and my brain is having a hard time sorting things out so that I can somehow write about what good times I am having but this is so difficult because in my brain there is so much happening and we are overwhelmed with all things oriented from "home" and at the same time there is so much happening here that is good like Jenny and I painting a mural for the coffee house which is really difficult because a.) when you stick two dissociative people in a room with a big white wall and say "draw", you should already know it is going to be messy but when b.) the owners of the wall happen to be two people who are incredibly beautiful people with an idea about what the wall should end up being, it makes things messier.
So after much distress and pencil scribbling Jenny and I came up with a plan, stick to all things garden-related (because a French Impressionist painting of two girls in a garden is what Adam and Eve had in mind for the inspiration) and section off a piece of the wall using garden lights and only allow ourselves to draw inside of the section. This is an incredibly brilliant but awareness-provoking experience.
First, there is a bunny on the wall, in the garden next to flowers and while Jenny is resisting her urge to go and draw the intestines on the bunny; I am arguing with her about my need to keep the garden lights a stop sign and traffic light even though I know Adam and Eve will hate my traffic light because it won't make any sense to them and would just look funny and strange and off-key. They came in though, a little after 10pm last night and they seem pleased. I hope they are. Jenny made me erase the stop sign and traffic light and after about an hour of discouragement we found these wonderful devices called Mr.Clean's Magic Erasers.
Please allow us to add that it was when we found the Magic Erasers that everything became all better. On the way home Jenny and I came to a conclusion about these and realized that we really want a huge Magic Eraser for our lives and that is why it was such a mood-lifter when we found them for the dissociative mess we had on the wall. I know that I am not making very much sense because I am simply not thinking clearly about most anything these past few days. I have so much to figure out about my family life (both internal and external), about my education plans, about the play that we've been writing, about how in the world Jenny's going-to-Italy-to-be-with-the-love-of-her-life is going to mess with the systems of thinking, about finding monologues and trying to plan for the Humanities Project and all this jazz and the fourth of the July was yesterday and I was completely reminded of my last fourth of July experience and I was with Jenny then as well and it was beautiful because maybe a day later we were sitting underneath a huge war-monument that read, "FREEDOM IS NOT FREE." We all still feel this way. We hid from fireworks last night and tried not to let them bother us, because we don't want to be horribly emotional or weird or dissociative or PTSD-ed or any of that other stuff that usually accompanies this childhood sexual abuse and rape- aftermath, thing. What a messy messy place. Boy, Oh boy, Mary Poppins, What would we do without faith?

we will write more soon.
love, we the people

PS: The real solution to the painting problem came when someone here said, "I cannot apologize for having all these people living inside of me with different artistic styles, not of which happens to be French Impressionist. I think that will be fine with Adam and Eve."

in Minnesota

and happy.

we will write more soon.

love, jessieh and the people

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