Rainforest I – III

DSC_5239Definitely felt like painting today, although yesterday I did not. So today I made up for it, yes?

I completed much of the tree line in Burnt Umber, and decided that I will need to go back and add Raw Umber and Neutral Gray, or so, to bring the details of the trees forward in the painting, lest, you see them not.

Then I did a bit of green painting, but decided to leave that be for now.

I changed to working on the rocks below, which I liked very much. The painter was definitely up in me, the confidence, the technique, which was most reassuring. Sometimes of late that has been missing, so it was … a thrill, even.

I had a 90 minute massage on Thursday, as I said, and although it did relieve me of much cramping, on Friday morning I woke up with a displace back right rib/cage? Which only through my remaining regular dosing of muscle relaxants rebegun, and yoga practice slow and steadily, and MUCH rest yesterday, has kind of relieved.

That being said, today while painting, I audibly whimpered just about every other breath, and I’m either in a lot of pain still, including my lower back, and on the point of weeping, which I CAN feel on the very of, or … I’m getting ready to start my monthly (or so?) cycle, like, tomorrow. I’m that emotional, which for the amount of leveling off that my doses of medications provide, is saying something.


And I had the WORST nightmare last night, which I keep flashing back on relentlessly, of one of my primary/lead abusers, abusing me, holding me close on the floor, last night.


Yeah, great.


I can’t say enough about how rough that nightmare was, and I didn’t wake, just went into the rest of the dream, where I was able to get away from him, and continue the dream … which led into other dreaming/states. But alas I remember it too very well.

Today is the first day of the Woman’s Club of Potomac Art Show and Sale, and tomorrow is the 2-4 pm reception part that I’ll be attending. Thankfully I had not planned on attending today, because in no shape or form am I able TO. Alas.

But I do hope that the pieces, two industrial fotos, are being well-received.

I do so look forward to the reception.

Tomorrow morning I’m going to take some fotos of three dancers. Yay. That should be fun. It shall help me get a haircut and have some extra cash for the Nashville trip. Hooray.

Now, dears, I sorely need meditation in the worst way. And REST for the body, the very BONES of me. Yes. I could just cry. However, I leave you with a poem I found in my 2001 website archive today, which I intend a) to Tweet on the morrow, and b) to read on July 26. Yes.

Goes Without Saying


it goes without saying
oh i’m not saying but you know
you know what i’m saying

it goes without saying
but i’m sayin it anyway
it had to be said
it had to be done
i see your dream and raise you four

you’re not listening to me
did i say something?
were you saying something
were you listening to me just then?
you’re not listening to me
not listening to me again
was i saying
what was that sound?

scraping the skyline
death knell rhapsody it was an elegy
breathed out the sky
elapsed out the street
sleepin at the bus stop
no shelter shelter house
it’s freezing out here waiting
you got to walk it walk it across
the blade cuts the street circular
saw diamond saws
shaving rocks smooth as butter marble
jackhammer shakes it up
i want me a chainsaw instead of a baby
although your babies couldn’t be any sweeter
sleep babies sleep
dream feet
cut me up some concrete
concrete smash it up

withstand waterside
lockside gunshop
doorstop truckstop
lock-knee lock-step
projects boxes
you make us all live in boxes
right angle vision lack of vision
your response to gravity is control

i’m itchin the scratch i’m scratchin it off
what do i win?
i don’t need nothin
i’ve got what i need
i’m one of the lucky ones for now
i like those magic numbers
magic numbers underneath

spinning em spinning dusting silver circles
mysteries underneath
mignonette shambles
all he’s got he’s carrying in his overalls
on his back
in two exploding garbage bags
his sorrow dog follows
loyal droop-eared shadow
where did they sleep last night?
where did they used to live alone?

Bubba Chernobyl
Bechtel ghosts
what your Daddy’s not sayin
what won’t be known won’t stick
White Bluff District
it was the mob that killed her
now that mob’s gone and we’ve new others
kill you in a heartbeat and Godfather’s made millions
millions Sopranos
you are what you glorify wild west mantras

picture the overpass rusting slow underneath you
here come those kids we better run
i’m done
some of those kids gone crazy on us now
and the money goes to lock em up
not to save them not to save them

i’ve been to despair
i have a summer home there
but i can’t afford to go

cumplea danos
ghetto stiletto
Blood Assurance
he sells some plasma for the cash
it’s shock
i can’t talk
TV Babelon
jump start this evolution
with a nightmare with a seed
go deep go long evolve already
lose the myth play with myth
litter tribe
Patchwork Amazon
Oregon apportioned
Apportioned Illinois
Trees Real Estate School
Liberty School
we just got the one civics course
did that teach us what we need to know?

be a nurse
write your congressman
tell em what for
what you think
do you think about it?
how the questions rise
tell em what you think
tell em why

Malcolm on one side and Martin on the other
portraits i gaze at
their eyes in the church
gone not gone gone not gone not gone
people like that don’t die
i won’t let them take them from me
you can’t kill fires that bright
it would be Jefferson Street
it would be Charlotte
it would be MLK, Jr. Boulevard
irony seems to have no end
irony becomes surreal

when the facts become irrelevant
my facts against your facts
you’re spinnin it, man
it’s a game to you right?
White Bluff District
White Bluff District

if you don’t like the game
get out of the box
hit ‘em on the head
with the facts again
does it ever sink in?

it goes without saying
oh i’m not saying but you know
you know what i’m saying

it goes without saying
but i’m sayin it anyway
it had to be said
it had to be done

i see your fire and raise you one
you’re not listening to me
did i say something?
were you saying something?
were you listening to me just then?
you’re not listening to me
not listening to me again
was i saying

tomorrow is now
you’re sitting in it

i see your hunger and raise you three
what was that sound?


Note the date, was RIGHT before 9/11/11. Ouch. I won’t be mentioning that at the poetry reading because it’s just too damned painful, but now YOU know.

Goddamn. That’s a wake up call, y’all. 🙂




About amyjacksoncc

I am a professional artist, writer and musician creating from my home studio. To view my artwork, visit http://www.amyjackson.cc
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s