This week has been hell. Seems everyone I talk to tells me I must give up something near to my heart; if I listened to them all, I'd be like a picked over turkey carcass, just bones and gristle without any flesh. WTF do they think I'm supposed to live for? I miss Sprite keenly, her gentle depth and understanding...when I was really down it used to be I could cry on her small, hairy shoulder and she was there for me. Somehow, she knew when things were bad. There isn't anyone like that now, (caprine or otherwise) and I wish there were. Instead, the blackness gathers and swirls in my stomach, gnawing at me more every day. And it occurs to me that maybe the sex drive has something with wanting to be vulnerable, that maybe, for many people and especially men it's the only outlet they have to express vulnerability.

I've never been comfortable with weakness. Personally, I mean. For other people, it's fine. For myself it's always been that I had to hold it back, hide the pain, endure whatever came along or leave if it became really intolerable. Strength and stoicism: don't flinch or yelp if you get burned, don't cry out loud, pretend the insults didn't hurt, take the punishment without giving the aggressor the satisfaction of breaking you. Other little girls cried routinely and on cue when the need arose, public or not. I think I'd rather walk down the street naked than to be seen shedding tears...it is that embarrassing. Which isn't to say it's never happened, but I remember each instance with a sort of stinging shame....the way you would public incontinence. I don't know why- I suppose I felt (and still do) that if someone saw that they could hurt me, they'd lunge for the jugular. Men have accused me of being cold, aloof, and uncaring...oh, it isn't true....but never mind...they're always the ones who hurt me.

And the irony of this all is that I wear a different public face...but never mind that, too.

Art- I went to the local artist's guild again. I was being kind when I reckoned them in the 50-70 year range, some of them are at least 90 I think. There were a few nearer to me age this time and the entire group was friendlier. The guest artist was really cool and affable. She's got her paintings on everything from greeting cards to jigsaw puzzles and collector plates, and she told us how to get to that point (as well as demonstrating her technique in gouache). The library said they wanted to exhibit my paintings, so I took all my oils there- will see if they actually hang them. I've an idea the little old ladies may object- heh. Latest works in progress are an oil of a quince and chestnut leaf, need to make the quince a little more abstract or else more realistic- as it is it simply looks lame- the other work is pen and ink of a pair of zebras, very enjoyable subject. I've got a bunch of work finished that I should scan and upload soon.