dear friends,

this photo was taken a few weeks ago somewhere in the middle of arizona. it was here that i met a motorcycle gang from italy and ended up joining them for blizzards at the DQ where we talked about travel and living fully and rome and the proper way to make limoncello. (don’t rush it. be patient.) it may have been in that exact moment where i realized:

i love my life again.

let me back up. its been awhile since i have chatted here and if anyone is left reading this (bless your heart and thank you) you must wonder where the hell i went. well, i got in a bit of a rut. and when i get in a rutty rut the last thing i want to do is share or socialize or write or paint.

which is probably what led me straight to the artistic rut to begin with.

hey.
it happens to the best of us.

so what have i been up to these past silent months? i have done some terribly uncomfortable, ungraceful, and what i like to call hide under the covers with a bottle of whiskey till its all over soul-searching and came up with a few new truths:

-i was tired as fuck of trying to “make it” as an artist as my sole income.

-i needed a change of scenery. i needed a change of everything.

it seemed the more i tried to alter or talk myself out of these truths, the more unsettled my spirit became.

so i stayed sort of stuck.

and i started taking on more adventures. one of the places i started adventuring to was albuquerque, new mexico. i had an old friend there to visit. it was dusk when i rolled in and i was immediately smitten with this strange twinkling city and its indigo watercolor sky.

something about the desert maybe?
i can’t tell you what it was or is.

i began making these little trips back and forch across the desert. i met new, interesting people. i somehow landed at a magical little school and will soon have a steady paycheck again. (thank god) i danced in the rain. i made a heart shaped pizza at a party and began feeling inspired again.

there is nothing wrong with southern california. it has been an excellent 10 year run. i did things i never thought i could do and met people i love dearly. (that means you and you and you) i will still sell and make art and teach my own classes and continue to explore new creative terrain.

its like this: sometimes the heart wants something different and it is unexplainable. people with good intentions will try to talk you out of it and the world in general is not here to understand and accept your deepest desires. life is your very own art project. don’t be afraid to start from scratch.

telling you that i never get depressed or stuck is doing you a disservice. i don’t want to bring anyone down, but i don’t want to hide the struggle either because that is where the miracle usually happens.

a friend wrote to me today on this topic, “life is full of fights, xanax, and messy!”

now ain’t that the truth.
the messy and the light.

we need both.
we are both.

and fuck ya’ll-i am moving to new mexico!
more frequent posting to follow…

life sure has a funny way of working out,
huh?

all love,
mac xxx

no one really tells you this
but its called june gloom
here in southern california.

nevermind the other
11 months
of geological perfection

one becomes spoiled
in paradise

and the overcast sky
plays tricks on my heart.

i still get messages
from him

meet me on the hill
by the dunes

(top of the world i called it)

you were high on god knows what
and i was high
on being 19 and a dreamer.

we pinky promised
not to become cynics
and to do things in this
world that matter

&i am pretty sure
my poems
and your songs
are spinning randomly in the space
between the lighthouse
and my old cottage with funny
rocking chairs on the deck that i painted a different color
everytime my mood changed.

i look around here
for something to paint over-
the stool? (no, i have to sit on it to work today)
the cabinet in the bathroom? (no, i like the baby blue)
the front door? (no wait. i don’t own this cottage either)

the mundane
is my worst enemy

and i wish i could be
satisfied
with the ordinary
sometimes

instead of craving
crazy magic
in every moment
like some sort of addict

good lord

i am a pile
of peeled paint chips

a heap of contradictions
heavily flawed

and wildly hopeful.

i try to find
color
in the dark

entertainment
in the
ho-hum

grainy and unpredictable
are the seasons
of my days.

i don’t really believe in regrets
i believe in growth

but if i could go back,
i would have been softer around
the sharp edges of your heart

and not taken so much personally.
i would have held those anxious twisted pieces
of your spirit
more gently and not been so rough.

i also would have stayed in the art store
with dad a little longer instead of getting
impatient because he was overwhelmed by all
the supplies

and watched the expression on his face
more closely
when he proudly bought his first and only set of paints,

paints that are still in the box,
untouched and lonely.

if i could go back i would stop
cutting people off at the limbs
leaving a bloody mess
to avoid the hurt
to avoid getting too close…

these are the things i think
when i begin to put myself
back together again,

when i want to make myself new.

i am a lucky girl.
i wake up to the sound of the sea
and fall asleep to the funny snore of
my one eyed cat jack.

i have friends who make me mix tapes
and bring gifts like yellow daisies and
little lavender cupcakes with candy glitter
and leave sweet voicemails.

i have art supplies to create with
and people to come over and create with me
with peppermint tea and nag champa.

i have a wild imagintion
to write with

and a wicked sense of humor
reserved for those who love me best.

but still i struggle,
as we all do.

i care less and less everyday
about what people “do” or who they know
or how much money they make.

i want real connection
not flat text messages
in place of a real person.

i want the whole story
and to be a better listener.

i don’t want games-
i want compassion.

i don’t want to pretend to not care.
i just want to be myself.

there are times when this concept
seems lost in all the broken
relationships and emails instead of letters…

i feel like i can’t keep up
i feel like i let people down

i must change my life
as my friend anne says.

and then when i am
about to give up altogether
some kind of magic finds
its way to me and i am changed,

and i believe again.
just like that.

until of course i don’t.

then i start again.

things my dad taught me :
(in no particular order)

-sorry sweetheart but no, i will not send you to another school. you will just drop your lunch there, too. (in response to my plea of needing a new school after i dropped my entire lunch on pizza day in 4th grade. moral of the story: you will embarrass yourself where ever you go. no need to be dramatic.)

-don’t be an asshole.

-in business and in life: two things. remember peoples names, and remember what is important to them.

-be a good listener. don’t think about what you are going to say while someone else is talking. LISTEN. learn. observe. shut up already.

-be postive. and again. don’t be an asshole.

-it does not matter where you went to school or who you know or what you did. people are going to remember the essence of YOU. once you are in the door you are good. just be you.

-if someone bullies you, punch them back. (this landed me in my one and only stint in the principals office. i made my dad proud while everyone else was mortified. thanks dad!)

-go explore. life is short.

-don’t ask your mother for favors first thing in the morning.

-it does not matter what you major in. just finish, and then go do what you want.

-if you love someone, tell them. risk rejection.

-don’t compare yourself to others. that will make you feel like crap.

-respect nature and children and good things. and coloring on a tree with magic markers is BAD. (oops)

-you don’t need a pool. the ocean is on your backyard.

-men are stupid. you can find a good man when you are about 25 or 26…..

-make the best out of the worst situations. use your imagination. the world can be mean but you don’t have to be.

-don’t trust a man who calls you sweetheart right off the bat.

-don’t date a man who does not walk you to the door to make sure you get home ok.

-smile. no one wants to see your sourpuss face.

-fall in love, again and again.

-be honest.

i miss you everyday, dad. but i know you are right here with me.
lots of love….

your mac/dunebird

above, the lovely lori

********

no matter

how bad
how sad
how shameful

how big
how mean
how not fair

how disappointing
how tragic
how fucked up

how stupid
how careless
how angry

how broke
how uninspired
how heartbroken

how messy
how tangled
how awful

how addicted
how restlessless
how lost

how incredibly flawed
and unworthy
you may sometimes feel….

i still
believe

it
is
all
necessary

and you my friend
are headed,
without a doubt,

for greatness.

above, the gorgeous leah who makes magical jewelry.
**********

a few readers have recently asked me how to “bare their heart and soul” on their blog. i thought this was a question worth answering publicly so here it goes:

{disclaimer: i know nothing. these are only my experiences. take what you want and ignore what does not fit.}

how can i share all my private feelings without my family and friends and strangers judging me?

you can’t.
you cannot control how others are going to be respond to your writing.
you cannot make anyone understand what you are trying to stay.

your words will be misunderstood by someone.
your words may even offend someone.

but it is not your job to manage any of that.

it is your job, however, to be really really clear on what
you are willing to share and what you are not.

if it is something fresh, or delicately hopeful,
consider how much you want to share.

if it something that is a touchy subject,
consider how much you want to share.

i say this because these are things that
someone at some time could use against you-
and if it is something that may hurt you coming
back at a later time, think about that.

so what can i share?

you can share anything you want.
i don’t want to rain on any parades here.
it is YOUR SPACE.
own it!

i am only suggesting to get clear
on what you are not willing to share.

am i not being honest if i don’t spill all?

fuck no.

NOBODY shares EVERYTHING.
blogging it like 5% of what is really going on.

DON’T

-compare your writing/blog to someone else. ESPECIALLY someone who has been
doing it for years.

-don’t mistake drama for honesty.

-don’t judge or second guess your writing. no one is grading you.

-don’t think of it as high school. there is no cool crowd.
there never really was.

-take any negative comments/feedback personally.
don’t even let it sink it. delete!

DO

-get inspired by other writers and artists

-experiment with different things while you discover
your own style and boundaries

-connect with likeminded artists who will support
and care for you.

-have fun

-forgive yourself if you don’t blog enough, or think you
share too much or share too little or are boring or whatever.
make up your own rules. no apologizing!

-stay open

-write, make mistakes, reach out, play, and please WRITE WRITE WRITE.
its a muscle. the more you work it, the better you get.

other things to keep in mind:

what you share is your business. and no, it is not the same
as someone reading your diary. just because you share
personal bits online, does not mean all your personal life is
up for grabs.

everyone feels insecure about writing/blogging at first.
it never fully goes away, but it does get easier the more
you do it. (i still get nervous at times)

people who share more are in no way better or more “real.”
it is not a competition.
stay away from those who think it is.

share what you want.
know your boundaries.
have fun!

(hope this helps)

from our double trouble series:
me, top.
allison, bottom.

all processing done by allison tyler.
(and for a copy of allisons FABULOUS book go here!)

(above tubingen, germany)

*************

“a good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving.” – lao tzu

yes and YES.

i don’t know what comes next.
so lets just look at this pretty new mexico
sky together.

she tiptoed into
him
as not to cause a scare

but it ended up
looking more like a
a motorcycle crash
instead.

a mixed up pile
of broken parts,
no helmets,
a whaling siren and

a few cuts and bruises
here and there-

no one got
out in one piece.

his kisses were like a strong wind
out of nowhere
and she was a girl
in need of a good kiss.

truth be told
it was a welcomed collision

stars spinning like discos balls
and one full bellied moon
had them manically flying
into each other.

{and her friends would say no wonder}

he wore adventure like a teeshirt
and smelled of roadtrips and cigarettes

and pretended to be tough,

while she showed up in a delicate pink and black
lacy slip
with combat boots

and pretended to be tough.

he told her she brought him
back to life
and she listened to his stories,
twirled her fingers in his unruly hair.

it was fierce
and unavoidable.

then it was gone.

and like any accident,
there was no one to blame.

{even though they tried}

but this is not
a sad story.

{so don’t
you fret.}

it is just
an unfinished one.