So i woke up early and wrote to one of my favorite fine tailoring/sewing/design authors, Kenneth King. i sent him photos of Tom Mix, the silent film star of the 1920s, in his miraculously tailored riding pants. they are a miracle and i plan on coming out of these three weeks with my first ATTEMPT at these.

see, in the 1920s, this was before knits were used a lot (Chanel also came out with high fashion uses for knits in the ’20s), and this is also before modern industrial clothing manufacturing.

as you get back to making actual things in your hands, you return to a pre-industrial way of THINKING which often will blow your mind as surely as if it were magical or mystical. nah. it’s this computer/technology/propaganda stuff that is the spell that has been cast.

i have a huuuge stack of old sewing/pattern library books i get to keep til June 1st because of the lockdown. i like to pore over old patterns because they have tricks and ideas they used that we lost in the quest for industrializing and automating the production of everything. clothing especially.

when i quit trying to be a touring author and artist performing thing, i wanted to die. i didn’t wanna know anyone i knew before as they were too happy or content. i avoided anyone who did small talk. so i danced alone in the sun while James was off in the water, and i’d only attract other half dead people. homeless folks who had no face to save, or people who’d had near-death experiences and recognized my own struggle to live in this world.

i didn’t just switch to something else. i wanted to DIE. nothing was as i thought it was.

but i had to stick it out for James. i told him i’d stick around for him as long as i didn’t have to behave for ANYONE. that i don’t have to suck up or pretend. he agreed.

so i got beat up and kicked out of places when i stopped shuckin’ and jivin’ like a good colored girl. / it got me to see what was behind and underneath all this supposed happiness and faux joy.

but it took me years of reading, crying, thinking, praying, trying things in real life, and BATHS. i took something 3 or 4 looong baths a day. it forced me away from the computer or electronics and it took me years to detox and let my disillusionment go away like when a love affair is over.

so that’s why i’m waking up early NOW. there was almost a decade of being a half dead zombie just forcing myself to brush my teeth and go outside without fear.                        

that’s why this can be a magical time of deep study and introspection. do expect fear terror sadness… mourning.

everything is different, yes.

but i’m hoping to push for some energy to come out and bring flowers and new IDEAS at this time of change. i’m hoping to poke awake other artistic freaks who’re left, it’s time to wake up and take your places.

i’m talking about us other middle aged folks. the little ones don’t know how to actually DO much of anything off the phones and technology, we are the last generation around who knows how to actually DO things. we’ve gotta teach the little ones something useful going forward.

my corner is the means of production thing. making our own thing on the low.

so people will go through the shakes and the terrors and sweats, detoxing off the big Collective Illusion.

go small. focus in. get off the computer and the news. it’s just thrashing around.

back to life…. back to reality….

industrialization and technology keeps us from each other.

i’m hoping that this lockdown reminds us of our humanity and how much we do need and love each other.

fluffy thinking, i know. but i believe. i’ve seen what James’ love has done for me, how it has brought me back from the dead and enabled me to adore cuddling again. made me love not just HIM but others so much more.

he’s making breakfast for me right now as i write this.

i’m excited, hoping Kenneth King will write me back. i hope he’s doing fine with all this. i’ve always seen Kenneth King as the one who should be spearheading a whole new direction in wild sewing.

it’s not just making stuff.

when i make custom things and send James out into the world, he feels amazing and women come up and talk to him in a city where men are afraid of casually talking to women for fear of being called a creepy masher or a rapist.

and clothing is mass produced so fast, it’s all stretch tubes sewn together now. no one feels “great” in stretchy tubes sewn together for sleeves or legs etc.

enough about sewing. i’m just plotting and scheming something even bigger than a publishing or clothing company.

this is exciting.

take baths. cry. sob. be scared. these ARE scary times. / don’t whistle past this. face yourself.

now do you see why it’s fucking hella evil to wish imprisonment for ANYONE who isn’t eating others brains?