What the fuck is going on in "Hollywood"? David Carradine. Ed McMahon. Farrah Fawcett. Michael Jackson. Billy Mays.

My "M.I.A" status may continue a bit more. I'm working on a project that I have procrastinated for some time. Almost done, and just want to get through it.

I just wanted to shoot out a quick thank you for the supportive comments that Holly, Dee and LWM left in my last post. It's very much appreciated. My mind has been jumping through a lot of hoops lately, and I've been mentally "unsettled" and very "un-Robertish". That "impending anxiety attack" I've so often joked about finally caught me last Thursday... and I broke.

Please forgive me, if I don't go into details... I'm just not sure how to start... or if there even is a proper place to start from. Suffice to say: "I feel depleted" or "left bare" which may or may not be a bad thing. Oddly enough, my eyes feel clear... and I think I know what the problem is. I don't think I "dream" anymore... and I don't mean the ones at night when we sleep. I just "do". I just "exist"... and it's all for everyone else.  I can't say that I am "unhappy"... "discontent" is probably a better term. Tonight... now... I'm just "numb".

When my best friend, Mabelyn and I were trying to launch PANDORA magazine a few years back, I felt so driven... so alive... I had a purpose. I had a direction. You see... PANDORA was going to be this fabulous avant garde underground art mag for the average joe. LOL. We put so much hope and effort into it... and despite being unsuccessful in raising the capital required to launch it... I do feel that we both walked away so much wiser for having given it a shot. We're filing the legal paperwork this month to officially shut the magazine endeavor down. Have I accepted failure or was it just the wrong time for a fabulous idea? I don't know. It's over for now, and it's time to burry this particular dream... or at least put its ashes on the mantle, and move on.

Maybe I'm mourning me. I've become "mundane". LOL... that sounds so arrogant. I sit in a cubicle in a half empty floor during the day, and barely speak a word to anyone. I've disappeared. I'm invisible. Silent. Not there. Not acknowledged until something is needed. One of the sheep. The grey colorless sheep. There have been so many issues at work lately too that have tried to take their bite out of me... and despite my tought outer skin... some have gotten through. Again... details are pointless.

Even my art lately seems created for someone else. What would sell? What would people like?

I need to "dream" again. The glass overflowed, and everything came pouring out... even if was just onto a piece of paper or an e-mail. I finally just cried. For me. For my sister. Her daughters. Her husband. Brighton. My parents. My cousin. Mabelyn. Gysela. Ana. For me. "Mother Ocean drown me." I want to solve everyone's heartache, clear their roads... as though I am somehow almost spiritually obligated to not say "No"... To always extend the hand. Always reach out. "Everything works out, if you just give it enough time, and believe in that." My famous words. It'll probably be my epitaph: "It all worked out." LOL. Be the strength. Be the assurance. Be the pillar. It's almost instinctual... mentally pushing myself aside (regardless of how I feel), and making enough room to carry what someone else can't. Problem is... when you keep pushing yourself aside... eventually you push yourself out. 

So the glass overflowed and is empty now... and I feel empty now. But this is part of the journey too. Getting to that point in your life when you strip it all away, and you stand naked before yourself. What you've done. What you've seen. Suffered. Enjoyed. The hurt you've caused, and the hurt you carry. What you will accept, what you won't. So, I'm naked holding an empty glass just waiting for the Universe to fill it, because I can't. Not tongiht anyway.

Altar Shots
Here are some photographs I took of my altar. Thought I'd share them. The black fabric doll I picked up a few years ago while walking through New York. She had this fabulous "Santera / Brujera / New Orleans vibe", so I just had to own it. She's actually made from a coat hanger. The yellow and gold statue on the right is Oshun. The blue statue on the far right behind the simple blue glass chalice is Yemaya.

Brighton decided to put some of the bath salts we got from LWM into glass jars.

Grey is the sky filled with endless tears... rains neverending. Will they ever end? Silent is the artist's brush. A colorless world on a colorless canvas. Grey is the sky filled with rain. Empty is the poet's words. Without Soul. Without Light. Without Rhythm. Without Rhyme. Without Heart. Filled with Empty For the Last Time. The Last Time. Does the music still move with the dancers? Do the drums still beat and move the ocean's tide? Move the waters? Move the ocean? Mother Ocean drown me. Take from me Sorrow. Mother Ocean raise me. Take from me Shame. Take from me Regret. Anger. Hate and Rage. Mother Ocean drown me. Your son cries emptied inside. Emptied. Emptied. The tide has pulled from me all my strength... and will leave me cold and dead. They take. I give. They take. I give. They take. Give. Give. Give. Give... And still they need more to take. They. Colorless. They. Mother Ocean drown me. Mother Ocean raise me. Raise me above your waters so I may see the sun and feel the sky. Mother Ocean drown me once more before I die.

I took a "Mental Health Day" on Friday... and frankly, legitimately needed one. I feel as though there is an "800 pound gorilla with an albatros on its shoulder" standing at the horizon looking at me. I need to completely disconnect from the world around me on Friday. This entire weekend. I have avoided the internet. Avoided blogs and blogging. Avoided MySpace. Avoided Facebook. Avoided my online shops. Avoided. Avoided. Avoided.

Ironically, some of the greater pressing issues in my head have miracously resolved themselves (almost) over the weekend. >Poof< There's still one though... the "gorilla"... and it's a BIG FUCKING GORILLA... but I'd rather not go into details. I'd rather not feed it... but I feel a resolution coming to this one too... by October.

I been avoiding my mother a lot lately too, and I feel the small gnawing bites of "guilt". I don't speak with her daily anymore. I don't rearrange my life or schedule to go see her every weekend anymore. Am I being vindictive? I hope not... I don't think so. I'm honestly not angry anymore. I just can't continue to do this dance with her.

They finally found and identified a medical condition in regards to my father. It's a localized infection he may have been fighting for quite some time. He's on antibiotics for that.

It's a nice quiet Monday here at work. I'm virtually alone on the floor. I'm going to go swing by a few blogs real quick and get to work.

*sigh* ~ At least the otherwordly Native American chants on my iPod are helping to mellow me out. LOL.

Blog... >drum beat<... Blog... >drumbeat<... Blog...

Ever feel a bit misplaced? lost? unsure of your footing or what your next step should be? Welcome to my world. I feel "out-of-sorts"... just "not quite right". Not sure why or if there's even a reason for it... but I'm "searching"... as though I'm meant to be doing more with my life... giving more... putting out more... bigger... farther... Minor mid-life crisis at 34? Doubt it. LOL.

I've put an enormous amount of projects on my plate in the past few months. Inspiration has been high. I want to do. I want to make. I want to create. I want to... I want to... Too many roads branching out from the same source. I built them all. Every stone. Every brick. I layed them down with my own hands. Where do they lead? Which one gets walked? What am I looking for? No wonder I feel lost... and silent.

I'm not the type of person who wallows in despair, or misery, or self-pity. Whether fortunately, or unfortunately... my life has never let me don that role. I function. I resolve. I fix. I have become "He Who Fixes"... the one that even closest friends and family seem to ONLY call upon when something has gone wrong. Not all the time... but more than enough to make me realize that I am viewed as "Mr. Fix-it". Should I be flattered? I am on a few levels. It's an ego stroke that people believe me to be capable of somehow fixing all their wrongs. Where did I put that wand? ...but who does my life belong to? Where does Azodnem end and Robert begin? Is there even a seperation anymore. Was there ever?

It would be nice to every once and awhile get a phonecall that says "Robert, do you need anything?", "Do you and Brighton need anything today?" ... but that's not the point... is it? That's not what it's about... is it? The universe takes care of that on its own, doesn't it? I know it does. I've seen life do some beautiful things when we least expect it to.

On one level, I had always resigned myself to spending my life alone. That it was what I deserved. That I was NOT meant to be happy. I had always dreamed of sharing my life with someone who would love me, honestly love me... but I never dared hope that would actually be the case. The Universe decided otherwise, and brought me Brighton. I love him more today than I did on the day I first saw him crossing the street to meet me. I had never seen his face, but I recognized it. I had always "known" it. The kiss he stole in Times Square changed and charted the rest of my life in one moment, and I will love him until my last breath. How could anyone NOT believe in magic?

I've never prayed or "magick'ed" for wealth... or fame... if those were due me, I always figured they would come. If they didn't, so be it. Setting up my online stores, however,  has filled me with a satisfaction I can barely put into words. I get so excited... even if it's just a button, or a magnet, or postcard... each sale means that my artwork touched someone. Reached someone. Of course, I want the shops to be successful, but It's not always about the money. It's about connections. Reaching out... and finding an open and receptive  hand on the other end.

I'm sitting here crying. LOL. Feeling a little foolish. I'm not lost. I've just opened too many maps. LOL. The long weekend has been fairly productive. I've managed to finally catch up on some minor mental errands I've been needing to do. I'll probably spend the rest of the day finishing those up. I made a list... LOL... a habit borrowed from my Virgo lover.

I feel beautiful.

On my epitaph it will read... "He was busy." ROFL.

Azodnem brings his "Land of Oz" series to a close with "Dorothy's Last Supper". Exclusively available at Zazzle, "Dorothy's Last Supper" is a befitting and dramatic end to this artist's personal journey down the yellow brick road.

Be sure to check out some of the other fabulous Oz-inspired designs and products at all my shops!

Well... uhm... you know I just HAD to! LOL