The waterfall / a slightly delirium

 

I came out from underneath this thing / Been sick so long with whatever it was I don't remember clinging to wreckage and yet...here is the now. 

what this was like? The bike you fell off of. The fire burns all the way up to the edge of the forest, and all the trees stand silent like outposts....The inverse of everything real is also true. The rain visits today. Yesterday was a heatwave. Yesterday Bob had been here forever, Now he's gone, the tears come down. Reality sets in. You could see all space and time, There is no one to bump into in the kitchen while regaling that while you make spaghetti, Toast instead. My unconscious mind is a hundred thousand waves of cascading white and pink noise flung against one another until all time as we know it obliterated. Or it could just be interference and clouds. 

OR this is sone new place. The next thing from now. My muse observes from some place off in the distance. We are the right pollinator and flower. We cannot be tasked with springing up for every esoteric need. 

Also...I'm grateful. My brain is so utterly traumatized when I went to 'speak' the way I felt about Bob it came out like a metaphor about having to destroy to begin again. I couldn't;t make anything new until I 'destroyed' what it was, 

I don't know where this new future is headed. I don't know where my head is. 

How does that old song go?

The Embrace

2010

 

Or Not...

 Everyone is hurting, IT cannot be undone. Time is change.a light finger on the betting wheel is wise.

2014. This is the only time I got Bob Drunk enough to dance in public. 

Fall is here. Bob is gone, but he's everywhere, Paul's heirs demanded a death certificate...I don't even have one of my own. I think about them stubbing their toe badly, and laugh while I rise to grab a half-finished margarita that's been lukewarm for hours on a dresser where I fell asleep while finagling my new Marin county vote-by-mail ballot. I meet with a rep for the lawyers office tomorrow. Something helpful, I guess. All the tie in there world, and maybe enough money...

,,,and no one to show it to...anymore. The eternal trade. 

Just point me out of these clouds, if you could, 

There a certain blue velvet quality to what is happening. Almost espionage: I have to go through things to figure out what the heck is going on while other people undermine me to try and find out first. I love games. I hate contests, and this isn't the time to experiment.   

MY brain aches to sleep but can't. Somebody calls on a telephone I don't answer: 

asking me if I did enough...and I don't know if I didn't or not. 

Untitled misery

 I'm tired.

A week that should have held me up brings down to some estate bullshit. Bob would be rolling in his grave. 

I am doing my best to be empathic and meet people's needs and still being tired and wondering if the other side of this is better. Now someone else is going to own 50% of the house I live in.. for doing nothing more than being friends with the abusive prick who was married to my late husband. I just...errr...want to go mad.

Is that ringing in my ear supposed too sound like that?

What the hell is happening? 

People are Trash

 Proof positive that people are fucking scum. Bob has been dead just short of a week. The guy called the morning AFTER bob died-before they'd ever announced it publicly, reminded me at the funeral to 'call him' and now is leaving me multiple voice mails and texts. I don't even have the fucking death certificate and they're trying see how much cash they're getting? Ever loving fuck!

Where are we now / Some other place / Somehow

4 years ago I was gearing up for my first show in 12 years, brimming with creative glue. Now, I'm a widow and scattered and feeling like I just got caned at a British boarding school. The house is empty and my the maw of my mind yawns wide...and then I see this image in my memories...it's weird having your subconscious regurgitated out to you by an algorithm. I'm talking to people. Crying in private and pressing buttons on thins and eating stuff. so many plates to make spin. 

Visual Consensus / 12 x 16 / Mixed Media + Paper

 

Staring at starless Black Skies

I now know why Mollie, Tweed and Nathaniel were constantly searching for Mack, Josquin and Sheldon when their animal friends were gone. Something intrinsic is missing. Things seem dulled, feelings of connection are set adrift. 

I know what you were looking for, and why you couldn't stop looking for it. 

The boat is unmoored. The waters are uncharted. 

"Bob...where are you?" I kept saying out loud to no one today.

"What's happening?" 

"Where am I?" my brain answers. 

Where indeed. 

Spring 2024 / Good Memory

Robert Bruce Gutterman03.29.1952 - 10 .11.2024

thank you for singing with me one last time