Our Darla thinks she thinks for herself, but then sometimes she chalks up the talks she has with The Self as the hard-to-shake-off admonishments Ort flings at her every time she tries to express [in words] the really difficult, complex and sometimes icky feelings about [Ort] the world [internal landscape] in which she feels semi at home. But boy is she lucky [Darla often tells herself] that she can walk out her front door, drive off and set up shop wherever [but mostly the Prairie View Drive-In] the mood takes her. And Darla's moods have taken her to some pretty amazing [hellish] places. Like … Boothby stands alone in his resolve to provide solace [a sturdy foundation] to Darla in her time of need [dirty deeds]. Open air markets are best for shoppers to browse with plenty of elbow room. Although the nearest elbow is hunkered down in a 4th floor studio of a 6 story walk-up, Darla remains available [by appointment only.] Little chance of Darla's determination turning into an endless thread of mishaps. Our girl is the very definition of tenacity! A plan was put in place before Darla was born. Scars carved into her skin are a daily reminder of that, even though what exactly "that" is can only be described as a recurring nightmare [at 11:37 a.m. behind the wheel of her pickup as she's headed to the swap meet] that a nice lady once meticulously transcribed. A father sometimes sees things that make for a rather uncomfortable supper discussion. Structure and rules are being rewritten during this contemplative episode. And aren't groups just so 2019? The inner journey is the logical commute for our time. What good did Dr. Makeda's pages of notes do for the girl disfigured through no fault of all the experts who poked at her wounds? We are entering the next phase of evolution. Darla's travels leave no contrails. Inward, inward does this wayfarer go. What was "out there" anyway? A distorted version of the story she was put here to tell? This is anyone's game. All the rules have changed, and a sneeze will get you a hole between the eyes. Ah, but for those seasoned few, the mystery may not be elusive for long. This is Darla's moment to show what she knows by turning an ill-played hand into gold.
Semi-Daily Scribbles
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Sharon's hair (admit it. you don't know her name. sharon was your babysitter.) gleams like burnished bronze as she sits in a stream of March's best light. The scene inside the café reminds you of the time you stood nose to canvas with Bierstadt's California Spring (the interplay of sun and shade always has a sinister twinge, you feel.) Windows offer distorted views of sidewalks and shoes (no golden beam can save this city.) Sharon (not sharon) scratches her scalp just above the left ear and that totally alters your opinion of her. -
And what does Gary know about Chica? Does he know she breaks into abandoned buildings, like the ramshackle dance academy two blocks west of the Chik'n & Biskit and does Martha Graham-esque chassé-and-swirls on the buckling oak as she dreams of her return to the sea? Oh but the dreams … trees and screams and a doe-eyed girl with shoulder-length hair the color of Nescafé. Chica really did know that girl once. Talked to her pretty recently, actually. But the girl with coffee-dipped bangs still hangs around the old neighborhood, although we wouldn’t see her in line for a drumstick special at the C & B. Our Lady of the Forest doesn’t eat much anymore. -
Mind the rafters! It's not riches this girl is after. An archetype wants to get inside your head. Live the qualities of The Modern Woman and rely on your own piece of mind / acre of light / what's wrong with always being right? You just may encounter that Mystery Figure you've always dreamed about staring back at you in the mirror. Well, my gut is my biggest body of work! Everybody takes a crack at that single pane of glass, but once the truth is captured it can be parsed according to taste. The body stepped aside to let the spirit begin the journey. Fertile, not futile. This message of the elemental feminine expresses relief, not grief. The joy of the unknown shows us how much we've grown, and there's more than one chance to stretch the moment out beyond eternity. This quest is put to the test each time you run toward the thing that scares you. Past mishaps weren't all that bad. They brought you to this tightrope, no? You are now free to move about the inviolate expanse. There's no better way to test the foundation you've made than to proceed heedlessly and leap before you've looked. Handcrafted delusions are yours for the taking. Limited editions! Collect all 365!The G of Q disturbed of mind, is he. How can that be? The G of Q is a little bit you, a little bit me.
The gleam. In his eye. The good one. Chica said it was Gary's best feature. The good one. His right eye. Pale green and caught the sheen off everything. Like the Chik'n & Biskit's neon slogan emblazoned across the front window of every franchised location: 100% Up to Scratch!
Gary's pleated floral midi-skirt swirled about his calves as he swung open the chicken joint's off-plumb and fingerprint smeared glass door.
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Darla came up with a magic number so she'd better have the courage to play it. It doesn't matter which end is up when it comes to her cups. A disruption is precisely what the Prairie View Drive-In Swap Meet needs. "Don't create a mess just to say you've accomplished something," Darla admonished Ort a lifetime ago. Inaction can be exactly the action one needs to take when a situation resembles a pile of scraps. "Apply force to an immovable object and you may just end up flat on your back counting the stars, Darla." Mr. Morton Abernathy knows how to stop a girl dead in her tracks. Depending from which side of the veil one hails, a clear intention is more versatile than that ounce of prevention. A weary mind and a body that's succumbed to the cold, or so we've been told. Darla's all discordance and irregularity at the moment; tired and wants to lie down. Wrap a blanky around that body and drift off into a parallel realm. To navigate a world where the head is clear and heart strong. This life is a marathon. What other wonders does Darla keep in her shadow box? An alternate version of her go-to magnolia pattern? Long division in the short term. Progress clouded over with doubt. The greatest riches are found in garbage-strewn ditches. Now that's faith by any measure (with or without a torch.) Under a scrap of midnight velvet she stands. Look up, reach out, use a light hand with the edits. First thoughts are lost through our need to find meaning. Esoteric questions can only receive ham-fisted answers while we reside within this Other World. We can show what we know, but our truth hides in comfort between the moment that's passed and tomorrow. Persist on this road that is built with each footfall. Directions to what's never unfolded before aren't much help as we roll through this intersection. It's the Self, what else? Your magic is your own, to heal or harm. Receive these gifts and pass them to the right. The basket Darla weaves catches the memories contained in each drop of her blood.
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thirsty tresses teased into unspeakable shapes
frosted-tip stylization
tendrils of sombre ombré
and foreheads banged for businessladies on high roam from stall to tent in search of the perfect 99 cent:
ladle
cradle
boat
compote
vest
bird nest
a gilded pear
antique lace
underwearhearth and home and fear of being alone
surround oneself with an elf on a shelf
as knickknacks define our sense of self -
In the time it took for the blood to soak through the yellow V-neck, Micah was able to enjoy a satisfying drag off a Camel. The thumb and forefinger of Micah's non-ciggy-holding hand caressed the slip of notebook paper tucked inside the front pocket of his Levi's."Individuality. Absolute power and ability. Discipline. Individuality. Absolute power and ability. Discipline. Individuality. Absolute power and ability. Discipline." The cadence that escaped Micah's lips slowed his racing thoughts. He became less fidgety as he inhaled the sweet astringency of the cedars and firs that encircled him. This is what church was meant to be. The creature beneath his feet sighed in agreement.
She is your dreamcatcher and safety net. Her smile is the other side of the river once you've filled your lungs with her lesson. The target has been verified. That prize is now the only thing that can keep you alive in order to transform. Allow your discipline to spin hopelessly out of control so you know what she felt at the moment of initiation. What are you afraid of? The peace of mind that's always been your birthright? Your talents are only tarnished, not lost. Love is a vehicle to teach us to suffer without dying. The heart always knows what the soul fears to find. In the end, we all wind up wet behind the ears.
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Dreaming has returned along this sordid road. Everyone is running toward the right. Stand still to absorb the light. Might I imply that when you look up into the sky, staring back atchya are my beseeching eyes? Have it both ways. Watch your strengths atrophy as you make room in your life for artful distractions. Now there's a talent no one can take away! Such a good opportunity for you to be diffident. Why do you run toward cool indifference? I was willing to be your rusty anchor. There's still time to come away with me to that secluded world of which we once dreamed. There are only loved ones. Walk away from them and you sever the tether that keeps you upright. There is no inspiration like a flickering light on the far side of midnight.
Darla threads distractions like silver beads and creates a glistening ring around her world. The safe and sequestered space that allows Darla's mind to roam and body to serve as camouflage. High above it all Darla surveys her creations. Some spun from mud; others cobbled together with quick words and loose interpretations. A sputtered rebuff is no way to make a deal. Deflection is protection. Smile and peel off some ones when Darla asks if you'd like to see her embroidered disorder.
Semi-Daily Scribbles 