Self-Portrait in Glass

Beadzzzzzzzz

Beadzzzzzzzz

Yes, I still make them.....

I have 3 beautiful focals I made yesterday
just needing their sonar bath,
me to find the missing macro lens (apres toddler in the house-
toddlers are very handy critters to hang blame on, hehe),
photograph and list....

Life has been bordering on chaos for me lately,
a spate of negative seeming events, one after the other and
in the maelstrom, creativity (and time) seem to
have flown out the door
(with the icy winds & falling mango flowers....)

I trust the muse
to be here when I need Her
most of the times
she pulls through.

Today
she was gone.
The machines
ran almost all day
and nothing was made.

"you know who you are"

Thank you
for the kind words you sent me
for thinking of me ...
It means a lot to me.

I'm missing my ChonkStar,
here's a silly mini video
taken earlier this year
by the then 8 year old
camera fanatic...

(which didnt upload properly so I am off to bed.... will try again tomorrow!)

On Death

God says to Chonky,
"Hey little buddy, you're only gonna get 4 years,
you still wanna take this mission?"

HELL YES!!!!!

There's a lotta love to give
smiles to make n laughs to cause
telegraph poles to pee under
and snuggles galore

There's a lot you can pack into 4 years!!!!

The thing is,
the hole that is left
is bigger than
anything
anyone
could
imagine

About Chonky - By Nirrimi

picture death.

I couldn’t bring myself to bury her.

I couldn’t bring myself to empty the ground of dirt and of earthworms and of the spindly weed roots, and fill in the ochre gap with her body. Her coffee-cream fur held her tiny skeleton from falling out when they hit her. I try not to think of miniature beat-less hearts and mute lungs. I never saw her dead, but I can imagine.

They found her on the median strip. Breathless and still by the endless whoosh of traffic.

In my mind I see Mum’s face; I see her heart throbbing at her feet and her cradling the dog, like a precious baby to her chest. I see the love flowing down her withered cheeks and her hands pressing into the fur, desperately releasing life from her fingertips. She wrapped her in a rainbow and buried her beneath a flowering mango tree.

When I came home she was standing on worn feet, looking forlorn and waiting for me. Around the door my little sisters freckles and cheeks are stained pink and shine in the light. “Are you going to help us bury her?” I look at the concrete, hallucinating and see a damp stain of a tiny body and whisper “No.”

I can’t handle the silence, I can’t handle the lack of warmth and I can’t handle the death.

Sometimes I talked to her, sometimes I told her I hurt and sometimes I asked if she hurt too. She’d angle her head and regard me with big puppy eyes and I’d laugh and blow in her ears until she kissed the skin of my cheeks and rubbed her face on my hair. She was always smiling. She’d always grin with blunt teeth and a long rose tongue, even when she was in trouble.

I never got many good photos of her, she’d wag her tail and rush to lick the lens or cover me in canine saliva. So I’d give up and just lay on the grass as she’d curl into a mass of heat at my head. She slept on my stomach and sometimes under my covers, but most of the time she slept with Mum.

Mum called me outside and we sat at the edge, where the concrete cut off and the earth started, staring at our backyard; our graveyard. She told me in a little voice that losing a pet can be like losing a family member, and her voice broke so subtly I hardly noticed. I fumbled with my rings and tried to find the disarrayed dirt, only half looking.

Mum says everything reminds her of her. I go through photographs, memories that still live, even when she doesn’t. I finally let myself cry. Select, Delete…

Eye Candy + The Tempest

& also..... see me at...

Tempest International Exhibition of Glass beads

Making up for Lost Marbles (& one plundered...)

& lastly,
plundered
with
joy....

zooooooommmmmmm