En Contra. Against Sexual Tourism and Pedophilia

There's an important art exhibit against sexual tourism and pedophilia in Nicaragua.  Click on the previous sentence to see some of the powerful images and words created by friends and colleagues.  It's potent stuff.

Palmer Fishman Industries presents... Jessica Hirst: the Palmer Fishman Fashion Revolution has begun!

Last night was a lot of fun, and I didn't get too anxious to let it happen!   I started to feel the urge to sabotage myself before I could fail, but I didn't do it!  I talked to people, took pictures, went with the flow, even stayed up late at the party when I really really wanted to go hide in my room.  It was a good time.
Click on the purple link to check it out:
Palmer Fishman Industries presents... Jessica Hirst: the Palmer Fishman Fashion Revolution has begun!

Side Effects, more Mixed Metaforas and other crimes against language

perverse?  ironic?  shocking?

that I have gone from

weights

       attached to my eyelids,

                dragging, sinking always backward into sleep

gravity too heavy to fight until later in the day

to

instant alertness at the first sound

waking with the baby, 

the cat

the first electric feel of daytime energy and I can’t go back to sleep

my legs!  my legs!

quadriceps to be specific

first, a biological explanation/ theory:  

serotonin is a neurotransmitter, 

                (and brain lubricant?)

  a medium of electrical 

             impulse transmissions and I dont

have enough in my brain

or rather my brain is too greedy,

the little hungry neuron buggers pounding the stuff

instead of sipping slowly

I think norepinephrine is also a nuerotransmitter?  

         anyway, it's similarly lurking

hanging out in the synapse

in the gap between me and eternity

enter the SSRIs!  the SNRIs!  the Seussian snuffalumps!

into the breach!

foreign intervention on hostile soil, or a visiting liberating army?

man the neurotic battlestations!

selectively!

inhibit

inhibit!

defense! offense!

keeping my starving, greedy natives from eating too fast

increasing the stimulus across the gap

multiplying the power of my weaker battalions

is this a tired image? or eerily appropriate? 


 that i think of my brain chemistry with
                 military  and macro-economic metaforas?

(toy soldiers from my grandma's attic - 50+ years old)

so if all goes according to plan, the Prozac, Pristiq, lexapro, celexa and the rest

SeLECTIVELY slow the process, 

increasing stimulus to my mental economy

enough to help me beat gravity 

at the appropriate time of the morning

and yet here I am,

beating the enemy  en la madrugada!

overly alert!

over-excited for the excuse to get the baby out of bed!
               to play with me

guess what?  you don’t get to be so selective

those surgical strikes? yeah, right

that intelligence on the WMDs in my brain?

apparently the CIA thinks I also 
                      have them in my legs, 

because the battles are raging sporadically

always worse when I’m supposed to be sitting still

transatlantic flight?  great time for an unnecessary defense!

vibrations in my thighs

and i don’t mean the sexy kind

i mean the kind that make my seatmates want to 
                      smother me

i’m rubbing my hands together like an evil genius

shaking kicking jiggling

almost voluntary 

except if I don’t move I feel I could explode

an SSRI implosive incident over international waters

(portrait of me age 13 with new egg on my face - not a self-portrait!)

I have the right...to feel my own feelings

A new art/mind blogger just found me, yay!  I love how this, because now I get to enjoy her work.  I wish the link directly showed the image she created in this space, but I don't know how to do that yet.

Check it out:
My Obnoxious Subconscious: Rehab for a certain scapegoat

Creativity is an excellent revenge.

Nicaragua, before

OK, I did it.  I googled myself.  And this article, in the arts magazine Bourgeon, was one of the first listings.  (hint:  all the words in light purple  are links)

It reminds me of the exhilaration I felt during my time living in Nicaragua.

our house - I got to paint it!

 It reminds me of all the petty inconveniences that I sort of
                  relished even as I complained because
                  it felt more solid than 'America'

It reminds me of my horror and outrage at
     seeing anew (of course I'd
             seen it before)
    violence against women, at the almost
           casual acceptance (by men in power) of
                     sexual abuse of children
        often by people related to them
    but in Nicaragua I had
   constructive opportunities to express that outrage

It reminds me of discovering myself as a talented performance artist, not

              just a           mediocre               choreographer

It reminds me of the creative excitement opportunity I found in 

        garbage, and how

                   happy I was working in a dump.

It reminds me too that a sense of
     humor and   curiosity
   about (at least some) cultural
                          differences will get me              further than will
   feeling annoyed and
   superior

This is a link to an article I wrote, partly about how amazingly creative I felt in Nicaragua before the accident.