Screaming from the window

"I am mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore" but what am I supposed to do with this anger?  Should I open the window and scream? Would you like to join me? 

I have so many things I want to say but I don't have the energy to get into it (isn't that what they want). My salty tears and mood are mostly about artists and our continued poor earnings and exploitation and the broken system we are attempting to operate in. My anger is fueled by the myriad of reports (this is the latest) that back that last statement up and the cherry on top is the racist xenophobic radge I sat next to on a recent bus journey.  

I am the master of looking for the positive spin, the humour, and the story of it all but I am really fucking tired of conjuring up this way of coping in order to make other people feel more comfortable or to make my rage more palatable.

So you can see why I am short on words this week. Yelling from the window seems the best option. I will meet you there. 

I am a volcano

These are the first drawing or paintings I’ve done since June 12th. That's about a 3-week break. My skin felt like it was boiling from the inside out. You might say well then why didn’t you just make something? Good question. I think I stop to 1) rest and percolate. and 2) to remember how important this is for my life.

I am a volcano. I am headphones and joy division. I am charcoal and paper and unlimited cups of tea. I am a fever, I am electricity. It builds and builds and builds. I am a good woman until I am not. I'd like to run through the forest and throw rocks. I'd like to smash and kick the air. I'd like to scream from my guts until it shakes the trees. 

Instead, I'll draw. I will borrow your rock and roll smash it up energy safely from my sofa. I will screw up my face as I make the dark lines and I will break the charcoal instead. I will turn it up loud and I will disappear safely in your decades-old guitar sound and my heart will become the bass and I will go away in order to come back to myself again.

And each time it will be new, a revelation - a raw delight. I will close my eyes and shake my head and realise that no one gets to feel this but me. There is no way to make you understand so I don't even have to try to explain. What freedom. I'll step into your screams and take them as my own, I will wear your rage as a cloak and I will keep drawing.