Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face. —Mike Tyson
Where Happiness Lies. And it Lies All. The. Time.
She is not brave. She does not have courage. She is not resilient. No accomplishments. Nothing to be admired. She is not strong. The Strong Woman in the Circus Sideshow died a long time ago.
Yes she is Unique but not in a way pleasing to others.
He had an audience all to himself. He did not have to push his way through the crowds. They gave way as to a Biblical Leper. His cries heard yet unheard. For the darkness of life had swallowed him whole. Perhaps in the life that is to come he will receive shining robes. A Crown for his head. Soft slippers for his feet. His legs will be even one to another. His speech will be unmangled and unfurled. His tongue dancing eloquently over well favored speech.
For him D-Day does not signal doom or defeat.
For Life is a Cruel Struggle for which there is no reward……………
She is a Cosmic joke waiting for the punchline…………..
Reincarnation. Next Phase.
In the Midst of hopes, dreams, plans and goals I got lost. Now I need to step away and find myself once again.
I was always a bit of a clothes horse. Looking good means a lot to me. Now I no longer have the chance to dress up as I did when I was young I still like to express my fashion sense when the opportunity arises. I’m not hitting the club anymore, dating or even hanging out with my girls because #1 I’m older and #2 my job is not conducive to socializing. As a museum guard I wear a non-descript ugly blue uniform that fits poorly and has me looking like a poor man’s Charlie Chaplin. Basically the uniforms are to make us visable to the public when they need assistance and the rest of the time fade into the background. Most visitors to the museum have no idea that most of the guards are visual artists, painters, sculptors, film-makers, musicians and photographers. Why are we museum guards because we can’t make a living with with our dreams and passions, we need to pay our bills and we need health and dental insurance. Therefore when I get off work and change into my street clothes I go from being a nobody back to me, a human being. Many of my guard co-workers express ourselves through our clothing, tattoos, piercings projecting an artistic vibe. Then we are on display as the creative human beings we really are. Hopefully during my vacation in May some of my museum guard buddies will allow me to share their sartorial expressions. Will let you know if that happens.
2002 Marymount Manhattan College Graduation photo @ Age 42
Don’t Mess with the Lioness!! Africa meets India.
Majical Mystical Poetry Goddess
My Lumpy phase. As you can see I was growing out of the dress.
As a photographer I wanted to honor this photographer and artist who passed away. His specialty portraits, mine Urban or Street photography. He also speaks about the influence of fashion in his artworks.
Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face. —Mike Tyson
Vanished from Nowhere
Sometimes when things Fall Apart people need to separate or be by themselves for a time. Sadly too many judge why a person stopped writing or whatever they were doing before. Since we never really know what’s going on in another persons life we need to support them in their decision. Burnout. Re-calibrate. Who knows how long the sabbatical need be?
Broken or Breaking Free??!!
Time to eliminate the unwanted commentary on Lives. People are too negative and just assume that they know what is right for somebody else without considering their situation. They settle into the Ass part of ASSume very well.
Steer into the Skid!!!
Isn’t the Truth so Extraordinarily Beautiful?? And I wear it so well!!
Don’t you see me bejeweled and beGemed. With Tiara, necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets all jangling announcing my Royal Entrance??
Snapped but No Chat
Struggle is real.
Electric Shock Please??! Spin like a Rotisserie Chicken!!??
Mental and emotional pain is like being inflicted with mold or virus with every extending tentacles. It gets all tangled up within your DNA, your mind, your soul, your thoughts and it cannot be dispelled no matter what you do. It may go away for a while but like a reoccurring nightmare it returns usually with a vengeance. It becomes your destiny. Like that stalker that the police cannot apprehend.
Write Pain. Write Agony. Write Loss. As extensions of Oneself. My Consorts always waiting on me hand and foot. Swear like a Sail-lore in a Discount Junk store searching for merchandise buried under eons of Mummy dust.
Let’s stop trying to make everyone into Super Heroes. God is well able to speak to me or anyone else regarding the next steps in their lives.
So much judgement in the world and little or No understanding. Why are people such hypocrites? Let’s just shoot out the street lamps with bb guns and pour libation on dancing corpses loitering in the avenues.
Beware the Ides of March for it’s next victim may be you!! Your Brutus is just around the corner waiting. Waiting for your next steps. Don’t think that you can escape because you won’t. Life can take you in directions that you had no plans for.
One may fall asleep under the shade tree outbursts of vipers and snakes slithering through bushes and under the vegetation. Ribald. Psychological bullshit.
Let the talking donkey bring the professors salvation. Asses on two legs arrayed in bright robes. Dazzled by brilliance. Suckled on lies.
Fluidity of UnGuarded Moments
Keep in mind the Mole People. The homeless who live within the NYC subway system. They once were babies. They once had what we choose to call normal lives but now they must live underground hidden from the denizens of the day. Emerging only when necessity beckons. Not so much difference between you or the sewer people. The Rat Tribe is here to stay. Like a piece of unclaimed luggage going around in circles on the carousel.
Live your truth but don’t be critical of others truths for their are many truths within this multi-dimensional existence.
Great minds think alike. When I was younger I was a real Fashionista as the saying goes. Of course when I was a little girl my Dad would take me shopping in Macy’s and basically he picked out all my clothes. Fortunately Daddy had good taste. I also picked up my sense of style from my mother and my paternal aunts. I idealized my late great Aunt Thelma a great deal. She would take me shopping to Syms and other downtown lower Manhattan stores back in the 70s. Aunt Thelma was a Fashion forward Lady. There was a running joke in our house that I had to get dressed up to take the garbage out!! LOL!!
Then in my 20s obviously I was picking out my own clothes and my favorite color was Black. In fact nearly everything in my wardrobe was Black and I had what looked like a million pairs of shoes!! My Dad asked me if I was practicing to be a Ninja and felt I was a follower of Imelda Marcos who was famous for all her pairs of shoes.
I also tended to be Matchy-matchy in my 20s & 30s perhaps a little into my 40s I suppose because at that time I was a manager at a Non-profit and I wanted to look professional. I did spice things up when I went out with my friends. Now as I make my way through my 50s getting dangerously close to 60 I’m all for the bright colors, patterns, loose fitting (my tummy is no longer flat), African, American-Indian jewelry, Clothing made in India. The clothing cannot be too loose or too big as I’m petite and I believe a Woman should wear her clothing. The clothes should not be wearing her. I’ve seen the now grown up Full House twins at museum special events and they are really small petite ladies and they looked like they were being swallowed up in their outfits.
I’m no longer afraid to mix what most people would call opposing patterns for an eclectic look. I’ve received many compliments from co-workers and friends on my outfits. Spring, summer and fall are my favorite seasons because I can really cut loose with outfits and I’m Thankful to the WWW/Web because I can get so many new and interesting ideas for what looks best on me.
I’m even doing a little more experimenting with make-up. I was never really big on make-up even when I was young, but adding a little color to my face to avoid looking washed out. And of course there is the Manic Panic Red Hair!! Yes Always the RED HAIR!
♡ ☆ Fabulous Fifties
Natural Beauty
#NoMakeup
DeBorah (Me)
As you can see Purple is one of my favorite colors! ♡ ☆
In these two photos taken at a friends birthday party I’m rocking the Royal Purple! ♡ ☆
I kinda look like on of those Bratz dolls. You know. A great big head and a little bitty body!!
Cannot forget or leave out my brother Stephen Palmer who is the most Amazing Awesome Autism Guy on the planet!!
Here you can see Stylin’ and Profiling!! A mixture of Frank Sinatra, John Shaft, and Joe Cool!! My brother Stephen is the Birth of the Cool!!
Richard Cory
BY EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
Richard Cory Related Poem Content Details
BY EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
One of the many successful but not happy stories from Wall Street.
The next day, Mr. Murphy sat down for breakfast with his wife and children. As he left for work, the nanny took notice of Mr. Murphy’s suit and crisp shirt.
“You look good,” she said, according to a close family friend.
“I feel great,” Mr. Murphy responded.
That morning, Mr. Murphy worked in Paulson’s Midtown Manhattan office.
Later, he headed to the Sofitel New York hotel a few blocks away, checked into a room and jumped from the 24th floor.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 
