"The Acrylic Years."...

This year seems to be a big turn around for me.  I’m starting over with my personal rig, looking in the mirror for the first time in years.  I do like myself as I am, I just don’t relate very well.  I suffer from a form of dissociative anxiety that seems to flare up when I am faced with my need to protect myself... from facing my own feelings and myself.  Hence why I can sing the shit out of torch ballads - it's safer for me to sling the deep emotional shit artistically at you.  Being a vocalist is cheaper then therapy.  Astrologically, I am a fire sign but have a truck load of water in my natal chart, and haven’t quite developed the capacity for dealing with the bigger waves yet.  I'm steamy either way.  I seem to have become a connoisseur of avoiding reality, and certainly when it involves my body, aging, responsibility and dealing with my looks in general.  I haven’t quite lost my bloom, but my petals are certainly falling off.

Is there life after 12 years of acrylic hair extensions and 25 years of acrylic nails?  I hope so because I have removed every trace of acrylic from permanently being stuck to me.  I have very fine and soft, brittle hair and nails always have – DUCK FUR I call it - and that was my solution – show biz fakery, or props for being a Lady in this culture…. I need a break from fake.  I want to just be myself, my real self.  I have a couple wigs to transition to let my hair grow out for the public, but I am cultivating the ground and planting new fresh seeds.  I've endured a lot of stinking fertilizer and tilling my soil hurts.

This year I have the opportunity to examine myself and find what is up with me, though I am finding this very difficult to do.  This is my internal war.  Apathy, depression, boredom, creative inspiration, anxiety, unexpressed rage, injustice, fear of too much attention mixed with the need to feel significant, it’s like having the foot and the gas and the break at the same time.
ME…. Can’t you smell the stench of burnt brakes and tar….? Me… the childlike middle aged big beautiful care giving chef that sings jazz with a soul full of blues and glues squirrels to her car? ….the psychic empathic secret psychologist to the world who prays for only really one super power – To be able to heal and restore every living thing to perfect health, balance and happiness….? …. The loner, the rebel, who fights rules and lives to defy authority yet is sick of paying the price for it….? … the lost little girl who cries herself to sleep because she fears to dream of love ever again …? a highly sensual lover who is too fat and out of shape to fuck….? … sad lazy angry bitter dressed and ready to catch the next big end of the world scenario in hopes she can die from natural causes….? …planning to live in a truck as a retirement plan….? …hiding in my postage stamp bedroom, thankful just to be safe and dry and warm….? …spending time planning a future of freedom and fun and practicing being here now….? … uncovering every stone in the universe and beyond to find out what the hell I am doing here...? …choosing a simpler way of life….? …laying off the beer and bacon switching to salad and fat free yogurt for awhile….?…peri-fucking-menopause, the beginning of the end of my bleeding whiny-ass sniveling youth….? 

Yep ME…the artist and singer and tour guide of really weird stuff and living silly adventures, a fine example of 'What Not To Do'....hoping to remind myself to not take life too seriously...
New strong beautiful fresh sprouts are springing up and out slowly on the outside and inside. 

Let the detox begin and may a giant purple acrylic vagina be erected somewhere forbidden in my honor - to represent "The Acrylic Years."