regret me not.

i have a terrible subconscious habit of forcing myself back to sleep when in the midst of an involved nightmare... to finish it, out of masochistic intrigue, to gain closure... i'm not quite sure why. our dreams definitely reflect our waking life.

i once, very firmly, did not believe in regret.

a single entity has stripped me of that higher thinking intermittently for years. it's insane what love, and eventually addiction, will make you forget.


free as i am now, i refuse to regret a single thing, for in what ever moment i know i was being driven by nothing but my will for good: a good life for myself and those i care for. giving without receiving, and then being tormented by the recepient makes one waver in their conviction, but i know in all solidarity that one should never give something away and expect it back. and even though that care may have been misplaced or misjudged, it was real at the time, and that's all that really matters.

there is no more debt, no more dwelling.

"goodbye my hopeless dream."

in sickness, in health and in a shit storm.

life continue to pummel me at times, then bless me with amazing experiences and people. there is no calm for me, just violent swings and perception.

my health continues to give me trouble, things are irreversibly changed due to some of that. i will never be the same person... but change is the only constant along with- again- perception. make lemonade out of rotten lemons and sweeten it with those eyes.

falling out of love is much easier if you're falling in it too.

easier still when there is so much spilled milk rotting all around...
milk that hasn't touched your own lips in ages.

(polaroids by nathan appel)


i'm not signing any papers, i'm not granting ownership, but goddamnit for the first time in years i feel totally content with another being... and have no real motivation to chase any other. twin spirit, mischievous genius, better at cat noises than i, and full of new things to discover. just had to get that out of the way.... pardon my infatuation!!!

I AM SO LUCKY,
IN SO MANY WAYS.
there is no darkness these days.
just shade cast by things caught in brilliant light.

i go to europe in 3 weeks and i couldn't be more excited.
or more terrified. gluten free vegan in france?
stranger things have happened.

reconstructive deconstruction.

"it requires courage to want to be wholesome and sound, honestly and candidly to will the true."

-from either/or by s. kierkegaard

pairing opposites has always been a hobby of mine.

it's strange and beautiful to find such bliss in a truly similar sphere.
(and i think it's forcing me to love myself more easily.)




whilst falling down the engorging chasm of new romance, my heart has gained health but my body is becoming increasingly mutinous. research has convinced me that i must have some sort of internal malfunction, a hormonal imbalance at best and a whole slew of strange and chronic diseases at worst.

it's very hard to feel wonderful about yourself when you mysteriously gain weight (all the time- and i'm a pretty healthy gluten free vegan), have debilitating cycles, terrible skin issues, mood instability and severely increased susceptibility to all other illnesses. even harder when your JOB is to look good.

how do you politely give a disclaimer that your overall appearance is being fucked with by something in your body? does one say 'i apologize for my imperfections but assure you i am very thorough in my makeup techniques and posing so aesthetically pleasant images are still possible'? it's historically been rather absurd and disheartening to try to delicately balance what's going on with my physical well being and my physical presence and trade, but now i feel guilty for showing up to a shoot without base makeup on, eating before or on a shoot, etc.

security in myself is slowly dribbling away, especially when a photographer feels the need to point out my added pounds or blemishes. i see them, trust me.... i dread looking in the mirror these days- it's enormously frustrating.

i know all too well that no one is perfect, and i've grown quite adept at "faking it" but this is a new level of not-quite-right. luckily i have insurance now and am waiting on test results to narrow the field of what could be ticking out of tune in this flesh.


i am young- as the people who surround me repeat compulsively- and there is time to figure out what's going on and rehash my lifestyle to be actually healthy. as always i am impatient and scatterbrained- tests take too long, but i have no idea how to fix this so i distract myself and avoid booking too much work 'on accident.'

-end rant-

rinse. dye. let soak for way too long. repeat.

on the road, or off?

life = grr.

i find myself at crossroads all too often. i find myself easily traversing untraveled paths even more often, and convenient lovely distractions litter my existence like a trail of jelly beans.


the moments of joy in the life of a gypsy are extreme.
the instances of misfortune are often moreso.



i'm very torn between the life my intellect craves and the wandering my spirit seems addicted to, and fulfilled by. things have been so serendipitous in california that it's become even harder to consciously walk away from the incredibly unique and beautiful lifestyle i have built for myself. if there was a way to satiate and grow my brain while simultaneously existing in this nebulous cloud of flexibility and change, that would be wonderful. i have two weeks to decide if that's the case.

i'll keep smiling either way though.

ashes to ashes to flames to fuel.

wicked little smile. (by one of my favorite humans: brink ability)

i haven't put this back online for a while because i genuinely don't know how to explain what a chaotic eon this year has been in my world. due to sleep deprivation and a recent penchant for the cryptically blunt, here is my best account:

the start ot this year has whizzed by yet seemed an eternity: the mechanics in my brain broke down, right before i laid foot on the endless road again. my "undiagnosed mood disorder" has come in and out of power throughout my quasi, semi and fully adult life, and be it bipolar or borderline when my plane crashes it plummets.

i spent a week in the hospital after the most serious attempt on my life i've probably ever made, which was just the finale in a succession of terrible choices aimed to hurt myself, and by association, though i may not have intended it, everyone around me.

my biggest goal for the next few years of life is to not try to speed up the process of dying anymore than i already have. now i drink a couple glasses of wine and i'm drunk, a couple more and i'll black out. my liver and kidneys are seriously damaged, and while they get better as time passes it's a serious reminder of how fragile this manifestation really is.

observing this sideshow from outside the fishbowl must be like watching a phoenix stuck on fast-forward and repeat. i burn myself down, annually even it seems!, only to rise back up, seemingly stronger from my temporary demise.

it's difficult explain myself or my mistakes with any dexterity to people i know, let alone those who follow me electronically from afar. i just wanted to let everyone know that i AM ok, i AM getting better.

silence and the quivering high of inward focus paired with hedonistic joys and the flames of home are nursing me back to stability. no, to bliss.



(first time working my babies out since the burn, this sort of outlet is what i've been neglecting and subconciously pining for while living behind the wheel or in front of a laptop. video also by brink ability song: lotye by my love anno)

i'm settling down in denver next month and taking some classes over the summer. semi-retiring from modeling, at least from the insane travel/500 messages in my inbox approach i've had for the past year or so. it's time to remember what friends, hobbies, relaxation and health are.

the gypsy life is beautiful, poetic and free, but i need a launchpad for the trajectory of my true desires... initiate countdown....

medicine.

i'm offline till some time in february.

there are a few health issues that have become pertinent and demand attention.
attention that can't be had on the road,
attention a model doesn't possess.





i'll be back, till then it's sort of time for me to forget who velocity is and remember a girl i think i lost somewhere on the highways. eventually i hope to host both of these entities in this mortal shell, they make a good team.

gold is just dirt unjustly glorified.

rough hands tipped then lowered the soaking chair to the hard wood and moved with a decisiveness not recognized. ringlets of moisture seeped memories from my skull, newness forming in the co-valence of two magnetic strangers.

i think this moment is when i knew, subconsciously accepted rather, that love is not a commodity traded for comfort. it took me a long time to work out how to apply this ideal in reality and i’m sure i broke and burned some arterial bridges along the way.

without spontaneity and singularity we are not whole.

if you want something, why would real love keep you from it?

this is my dirt. i am choosing to wear it as gold.

This is an obligatory new years post made as I sit wishing sad things in the cold.

My resolution might have been to love more freely, or accomplish certain logistical outcomes.... if not for my newly and violently fearful heart.

With disgust I will admit all that I can resolve at this point is that I want to feel much less. There is no blame, no drastic causation.

Co-signing to a life of coldness feels fine right now. Maybe I should get out of the below freezing weather, but the frigid silence creeping into my toes is excessively comforting.

This is all horribly personal nonsense. I've neglected writing for the last month after my most invested literary pursuit suffered a casualty in the form of an unfamiliar friend. I suppose this garbled phone fabricated message might be the only thing I am capable of.

Malfunctioning human -out.

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such tangible concepts.

home is here:

here:


here:

and here:

and as much as it may irk me, here too:


words will come eventually. i'm settling for the holidays and determined to read, create and live normally as i can for that time.

then back to the grind. always back to the grind.

no words.

cause they're just silly some times.
(and often fall short of real expression.)

this is from one of my first mentionable shoots ever. by the numbers i'm not that different from two years ago, but my work, my appearance and my soul speak otherwise. i try to remember if i was ever as obsessed and driven by "fame" as i observe many wildly talented up-and-coming models to be, but then i remember everything in my life has been driven more by random circumstance and the need to succeed. i never really wanted fans so much as friends and co-conspirators, publication seemed a gateway to more work, but now i'm rather content being disengaged as fuck: i value very few thoughts and even fewer opinions.

it seems this is true even of myself.

i keep hearing wonderfully vibrant gossip about myself all across the country, and i sometimes really wish an ounce of it was true. i have my brief spells of devilish behavior and have surely established some controversial ties, but mostly keep to myself and stay focused. i do wish i had the time to live any sort of life, even if it was that of a internet diva.

so many seek to "do what is not expected."
why not try ignoring expectations all together,
and just doing what feels right?

autumn's crisp comfort.

this ship is righted, and set back on a (slightly altered) course.

tied to so many things, shifting shapes regardless.


meditation must wait until the voyage comes to a rest in december, the highway's lull and fall's vivid colors have to be my only solace.

staying sunny in a blizzard,

my life was ripped apart this morning in dayton, oh, when i walked out to my home to find it smashed, violated, and the safe containing all that is valuable and essential to my life: gone.

all legal documents: passport, birth certificate, social security card, and car title, over a months earnings diligently saved in cash in hopes of investing it in precious metals once i returned to colorado which i estimate was at least two thousand dollars, and a whole assortment of other personally or sentimentally valuable things.

i emphasize this word, because they are just items and money when it comes down to it. all replaceable, all liquid.

all still totally essential to my functioning, and achieving my ultimate goals, on paper.




there is so much frustration, rage, and despair whirling around my head that i can only hope to fall back on my trademark stubbornness/resilience and push forward. good things come to those who work for them, waiting is futile.

i feel like i've been trading pieces of my self for the opportunity to inch towards the golden light filling the horizon, only to have it shut off, and another one turned on much further away.



i may be taking a break from this job. honestly, i may be quitting. this is yet another circumstantial crossroads, and pending my feelings and abilities over the next few days, it may be time for a drastic reaction. it doesn't matter how good this seems, if there's no love then everything is utterly in vain. even more so if it repeatedly endangers the life and ambitions that drive it...

sleep is all fitful.
love and comfort are hundreds,
probably thousands,
of miles away.

this boat is obviously sinking.

the flesh that sustains me financially is failing me physically.

i've been breathing underwater for a month and now can't inhale fully without a pathetic wheeze escaping my lips and a stinging pain in my breast. foreign drugs have fallen useless, as has healthy eating, a buffed up vitamin regimen, and all the good will i can possibly fathom.

the road is a fucking difficult place to be this sick, and winter is coming.

i go to the clinic tomorrow,
praying i walk out with most of my savings intact.

i have a magazine column!

with a deadline coming up tomorrow. EEP.

you should check out the first issue though, really.

DENOVO Issue 1:

September - 2010

By DENOVO Magazine in Fashion & Style

Featuring: Writings from VELOCITY, Julie Bilotta, and Laurie Jones. Makeup Artist Lyndsey Ariel. Reviews on Apple's iPAD, BAR-CELONA Restaurant. New music from dRUMFISH.Interview with actor Erik McKay. Fiction from Abbey Phillips. Photography from Dixie Dixon, Marc Whitaker, and Robert Anthony.

bread crumbs.

dear food distributors and producers:

please label your fucking products correctly.

when you list allergens, list them ALL, and do the same with your fucking ingredients. "bread crumbs" doesn't jump out at me as "GLUTEN!" when i'm scanning a label of something that's sitting in the hummus section, which rarely has the death protein in it....

i forget how entirely shitty this makes me feel.
and now i'm stuck, seriously ill, at my mother's house.
atleast i made it here.


obstinance and resilience are easily confused and blended.
a lady told me today she'd love to be doing what i am, but she'd have to take shooting lessons first. i laughed and told her that the world really isn't that scary.



then i drove my car, with no air conditioner or alternator belt, the remainging 300 some-odd miles to my hometown, zooming around mountain bends while eating a pomegranate and not wearing a seatbelt.

if bad things are meant to happen, they will.
one way or another.

near a place called xxyxz.

in the middle of the desert one can feel the instinctive animosity of the earth come to life when the sun drops, it makes me hungry.

is it wrong to want blood?

positive rage.
channeled disgust.
and a taste for empathic separation.

to live in a world where the glass was too often half full would be fucking boring.

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monologue. (are you listening?)

no strings or things, less love, more living.
i've found relative peace in passivity and debauchery.

this week blew up in my face, and i've been sucked into a pleasant distraction. sometimes i wonder if the minds i try to understand are seeking anything in my innards, most often i just bask in their eccentricities.

i'm content with having much less than i have been in months, my income and spending are both at all time lows. times are rough but i've got all i need, and the maintenance costs of living in a newly renovated high mileage truck are starting to level out.

publication in a few magazines forthcoming, i'm daily debating my feelings on my occupation. the past year has seen me really gravitate away from enjoying mass amount of attention, or spending any time on the computer. add that to a complete lack of desire to get made up and pretty, and you have a pretty poor model.

i'm glad i have the wherewithal and ability (apparently) to fake it.

binge.

it's very strange to be so ambivalent about life. transience is like being under a voodoo spell, you focus on getting what needs to be done done and spend the rest of your time absently dreaming from the back corner of your brain.

the northwest always has me gaining weight. too many bakeries with gluten free goodies up here.... and i tend to gravitate away from the world emotionally before or during my stay up here. i have a comfort eating issue, i just don't know if i see it as a full blown addiction yet.

and i don't know if that's really a horrible addiction to have.
as much as i love bones, i am in love with cuisine and the culture surrounding it.
(hence the spice rack in my tiny mobile nest.)

running and working endlessly.
i don't know if it will stop until the winter.

i hope i will remember every corner of the earth i speed past.

maelstrom.

i have no time for decompression, and so i am trying to live every day just like i strove to on the playa, with an open heart and mind and more determination than usual.

i do not have a multitude of images to show for my adventure, nor would they depict anything about what this burn really consisted of for me. it was much less a party and much more a prayer.

the desert taught me some fucking important things this year.
and i learned them (mostly) alone.


there is great solidarity in singularity.

on with life, it's the most precious thing i own.