Only Lovers Left Alive

In the sun in a black sweater, surrounded by paints.  I'm working on this 12 painting art piece (12 because one for each month and because they are 2 inch by 2 inch paintings) for my friend Elise that lives far away.  It is for her birthday, even though her birthday was in October. I'm into how it's turning out so far.  She's someone who has had a really positive influence on me- just in who she is and how she lives her life.  I met her some ten plus years ago while we were both organizing with/for a domestic violence and sexual assault organization. Raising money to build their transitional housing, to be exact.  She's someone that's always felt like a kindred spirit, somehow.  Like I've known her in a different life or something. In any case, it feels good to almost be done with this piece for her.  In the past I've been sheepish to tell her about her influence.  Fuck that. Life is too short for that crap.  I know that already, but for some reason have still felt sheepish with her. She's a good mom. A good artist. A good organizer. A good person. I look forward to writing the letter that will be sent along with this.

(pause)

Lately I've been thinking a lot about learning and about love.  I've been reading a lot. Getting stuff in order to start school (again). After being so social while out of state, I've found myself choosing to spend a lot of time by myself-  getting lost in all of the good ways. Trying to balance out getting lost in lesson with engaging in the world around me.

There is some trust that is earned. And there is some trust that just is.

I'm not sure why I trust her to do what's right. I just do.

It's the reverse engineered something of the trust that Bourdain speaks of when describing a casual but automatic level of trust that was bestowed upon him by a guy who ended up being influential in his life:

I was so shaken by his baseless trust in me- that such a cynical bastard (...) would make such a gesture- that I determined I'd sooner gnaw my own fingers off, gouge my eyes out with a shellfish fork and run naked down Seventh Avenue than ever betray that trust.




Be well; be loved,

k.
(Title, of course, from the vampire movie of the same name set and filmed in Detroit.)
(image Natura Morta- Serie B -XI (after Man Ray) Giovanni Maria Sacco via tumblr via artlimited.net)