JOURNAL

My youngest kid - who moved out under very uncomfortable circumstances - and I have been in a reasonable amount of contact. They told me they love me. They are still not coming back home. And the timeline and trajectory for them to land safe and sound looks rocky and rough at best. They have zero interest in moving back home. I gotta say, I ain't mad that. I've been single parenting on my own for TWENTY fucking years. I'm tapped out, fam. I will always worry and I will always care and I will always be there when needed. But having space just for m y s e l f has been absofuckinglutely incredible.

I've come to terms with some stuff within myself, as well as my larger family dynamic - with special regard to my mother, if you can believe that. Life has a funny way about it, that's for sure.

I mentioned some time back about getting in shape and losing weight in order to be in shape for going out and writing graffiti again. I have 100% fallen off with documenting my food and drink intake, no two ways about it. I have, however, been eating way less and way less stuff that is loaded with chemicals and fat. I have been drinking a little more, so not sure where the averge lies. But I'm being mindful of everything entering my body the last week or two, and that's a great start.

I agreed to a weekly page exchange with the cat I first went out painting graffiti with in earnest back in the mid 90s. We are both feeling a little stuck and such. We are now engaged in exchanging at least one page from the sketch book every week to have some accountability for working through the block as well as feedback on ideas. I'm stoked. Slowly but surely crawling out of the 16 month artist block, I think.