.147 day 129

.146 promo'ish

i hate self-promotion. it feels like artistic masturbation done publicly. but i digress, until my first literary book becomes a best seller on oprah's booklist, and my coffee-table photo book sits in every household, self-promotion is needed for my basic survival. 

presently working on new promo and business cards (while toots runs around naked, with warrior cries like she stars in 'lord of the flies'). it's sometimes difficult for me to remove and exchange old pics, for new ones. i grow attached to them in unhealthy ways, so i was kinda proud of myself for pushing through this task semi-effortlessly today. change is good. i am changing. my art is changing. thus, i need to prepare myself for future creative detachments. after all, cannot grow in my art, if i'm still holding on to the memories that surround certain parts of it. no?

business card (front)

business card (back)

promo card (front)

promo card (back)

i kind of think i should leave the back of the promo card plain white (like the business card) but...i don't know. it's still a work in progress, i suppose.

(this feels cleaner. think it's the winner)

random. the logo came out larger than expected. i end up giving them away to people on the street

.145 day 128

i grew up with images that looked just liked me. 

doll babies and artwork and books by brown authors, all the time my world full of color, all the time untainted by anything that stripped away me'ness.

(the first time i experienced harsh racism first hand, my heart sank with confusion)

tonight, sitting in my mother's basement, statues of masai warriors towering over room (they belonged to my father), i smile in a memory. she never stood on a soapbox, but all my life she has been standing for us, the cocoa, the brown, the so black they seem blue, type people. silently expressing her deep love for those people. i look around. figurines of black mothers with black babies taking walks along bookshelves, slave papers and auction ads, frayed and hanging on walls. she bares her heart, gracefully silent, silently bold, each statue like a piece of her very own soul...

.144 day 127

.143 day 126

"soon it's all going to be digital anyway. 
it's all going to be saved on a little coin somewhere."
richard donner

i love the shadowed lemon slice

.142 day 125

chill. my mechanic. short for childrik. capricorn. haitian bred. and every bit his name.

.141 day 124

i fell asleep in the clothes i had set to paint the town the color of me in, the night before. but plans fell through.

this was the first time i've donned heels in over two years (i was four months pregnant)...but plans. fell. through.

ho hum.

.140 day 123

my love for her, an eternal prayer…

her love for me, all the blessings i shall ever need…

.139 day 122

"you might find • the night time • the right time for kissing

but night time • is my time • for just reminiscing"

nina simone

.138 day 121

the power of toddlers. i awoke to it. my early morning riser, who used to greet me with kisses and hugs to assure i was awake, now takes liberty if i, in fact, am not. a late awakening means there's sure to be a tootie'esque suprise when i arise. 

today...was powder. 

on sheets and floors, on laptops and books. in ears, in hair, in random places of random spaces in the room, toots emptied out the entire bottle. clapping, stomping, throwing it in the air, as she delighted in her long awaited dream of powder play. 

i closed my eyes and counted. 

she's almost two, i reason. by default, she's fueled by exploration. excited by new scenes, smells, sound, taste and feelings daily. this is natural. i place myself in her "shoes" and envision the sensations she felt. imagined the joy of discovering the forgotten, and foolishly left opened, bottle. imagined the giggles that arose, first moment she squeezed white clouds into air. this is okay, i tell myself, perfectly o.k. the room smells like lavender and mischief and innocence and that trumps all the messy residuals left for me to clean.

i wipe. i sweep. i mop. i snap. and an hour and a half later, all is right in our world...

.137 day 120

the calm before the storm. 

befitting, as it appears on the first day of the "new" year. 

spent the entire day wandering around my brain, searching for familiar landmarks, doing my best to avoid murky corners. i hate this place (and i love this place). everything i thought i knew...fades. everything i need to know...glows. dread and delight. i suppose it's some twisted form of balance. my spirit's way of cautioning me. god's proverbial tug on the tail of my shirt. perhaps, today was just a detox of 2012. i am low-key excited about things soon to come. thus, this isn't depression that you see, it's release. 

settle, sometimes solemn, but ultimately soothing...release.