Please forgive us, parents, for our youth and "intimate getogethers" in your homes. You were all quite lenient and as an adult I am overly appreciative that you opened your home to those punk ass bitch teenagers. TBT! Andrea had one of these at her house. On this infamous night, one of Andrea's favorite moments (because she loves making fun of my awkward times) I *allegedly* got pretty tipsy on Boone's Farm (Flavor: Strawberry Hill because I know you were curious) and admitted to my obsession to the song when it came out only a few years before. I proceeded to sing "EVERYTHING I DOOOO! I DOOOO IT FORRRR YOUUU!" Everyone was "impressed." Read: laughing their young butts off and I was then immortalized as the girl who loves Bryan Adams. I have a pretty clear memory of the night. Honest. And NO ONE brings up my very valid supports of why Elton John's "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" is one of the greatest albums of all time. No. They just focus on that Robin Hood bs. On a side note, jump to nearly twenty years later when I was exposed to my husband's childhood videos. I watched in awe when I witnessed a baby faced Daniel belting out that very same song at some karaoke bar in Malta. I immediately made Andrea aware of the dually embarrassing/incriminating moments and it was destiny, so they say. Thank G-d there isn't documentation of my rendition, right!?
I tend to go through a lot of my possessions and get rid of unnecessary material objects. I came across this sketch I was working on awhile back for a series called Sacred Brooms. I felt like we could all use a few good spells and having a spiritual and sacred dance along with internalized wishes might manifest hopes and/or healing. IMHO. I made a set of three to begin with. I gathered the materials, cut the ribbons, and dusted them with pulverized letters from loved ones. In my mind, I could see them sweeping up all the sadness. The letters, what now looked like baby powder, soaking up the tears. Super dramatic and IDGAF. I am thinking of revisiting this body of work after being inspired by, oddly enough, the Nina Simone documentary; Nina Revisited. It invoked many tangential emotions but in this particular situation, I was reminded of how affective raw and vulnerable art can be. Honest.