April 28, 2006
What nobody ever told you about the clitoris

April 26, 2006
Why I want to eat my own body

April 25, 2006
Art that talks

April 23, 2006
The Girl Scout Laws

April 22, 2006
Home steak incubator to make self-cannibalism possible

April 21, 2006
The limitations of my fear

April 20, 2006
Talking to Caryn about staying in embodiment studies

April 19, 2006
My Goddard story is finally a story

April 14, 2006
Self-cannibalism, my body, and giving birth to myself

April 8, 2006
The soft feel of a mother's love

April 5, 2006
The jagged winter of fairytale brides

April 4, 2006
how my head feels right now

April 21, 2006
The limitations of my fear

My big lesson lately is that stress, worry and fear feel like they should be components of a job well done. All the hours and worry I used to put into web design proposals, designing sites for clients, and doing job interviews... I hated them!

But now I could give a shit if I get jobs, or how I SEEM, as a businessperson or as an artist. I just got a new client, and rather than giving her an interview and a fancy proposal, I threw her a quick email with an estimate, jacked my price up a couple hundred dollars to dissuade her, and got the job immediately. Same with designing my this site.

And reading poetry used to scare the hell out of me, but lately I've started really engaging the audience, chatting with them for a while before reading, and talking back and forth with them. I feel relaxed and smartass. And like... Suddenly I'm a fucking poetry goddess. I'm serious. Because I don't give a shit. My head's in my studies and that's all I want to do.

So how do I carry the knowledge of the insane power and liberation of fearlessness over to love. Because love and the person who loves me?... They scare the living shit outta me. I swear, Bill can smell my fear, and it gives him an advantage. He knows I'm afraid of losing him. Losing him again. And he's wonderful, don't get me wrong. I adore him. I know he loves me, and he'd do anything for me. But he has more power than I do, and we both know it. He keeps saying, "Alex, relax! Ease up. I'm not going anywhere, so back off a little bit..." But he wakes up in the morning and I'm staring at him, or I call too often, or I get insanely jealous. I wish I didn't care so much about him.