I swing between paralyzing fears that no one will read Circe to dumbfounding amazement that people have read Circe.
At this point, the book feels like a friend–a friend who helped rewrite who I am as a person–a friend who liberated me to make art. I feel like I owe her–I feel like I will always owe her.
I am grateful that “imaginary” friends lead to the creation of “actual” friendships. I would like to be a better friend; I hope to learn how to be a good friend during my lifetime. Being a friend is harder than it seems–friendship is an organic process that feels more like an accident than a choice, but there are choices that ultimately result to the building or collapse of a friendship. I would like to be more aware and proactive when it comes to such decisions. I want to be a friend—a real friend.
I desire to be a good person. But what does that mean? And how does one go about “making” themselves good? I don’t think it can be marked. I don’t think it can be tallied. I don’t even think it can be defined. But sometimes, sometimes, I’m lucky enough to feel friendship—to feel love.
I am glad there are pictures, paint, music, and costume to help bridge the way between people.
I am grateful, deeply grateful for the friends I have found in the Circe project.
Please enjoy the images of Jason Hughes of Pavlina Janssen’s Jellyfish Woman dress.
(Oh, the pink sting ray in the pictures is the best poem I will ever write; he rewrites me everyday.)