It’s nice to be stupid
As the plague rages on
Falling into the conservative con
Please ignore all the hype
About saving your life,
Accept only the hope
Spouts the big orange dope.
Elders sacrificed for your sake
For the widgets you make.
Ignore all their voices – you know the news is all fake.
Open that store
Its jobs are worth more,
Brush off the furies,
Produce in a hurry,
while I paint a rose colored casket to bury your dead
It’s worth it ‘cause I’ll sleep sound in my bed
Yup, it’s nice to be stupid
As the plague rages on
I say with a smile.

Impeachment Soundtrack


There’s a soundtrack to life.
Its rhythm carries the burden of the bending day
Where the sun’s status may lead the way
Or perhaps a news cycle view of justified strife
Or the unconcealed contempt of a president rife
With impassioned control of disconnected smiles
Covering quicksilver thoughts with eyes hooded with guile
The drumbeat of hatred, the resonance of blight,
The monitor casting it’s flickering light
Beats deeply embedded in the artificial glow
Blocking the colors that through studio floor flow
With the crisp wind that blows through the cracked window so bright,
The staccato dissonance fades to a forgettable drone
Occasional interruptions of angry tones,
My own rhythms are dulled, eyes cloudy, head bows
Is this what life has reduced me to now.
The wind picks up and touches my face
I startle and begin to notice my place,
And glimpse a slight feeling that seemed to be dead
My beats should be quicker, the melody strong
No abrasive dissonance nor pauses too long
From a senator's choral defense and dark logic
that obfuscates thought leaving only the dense
sense of betrayal, dismissal, and discord immense.
Again, the breeze shifts and the light patterns swell,
I rise from my stupor and sojourn in hell.
I must move before I sink into numbness filled with disdain
My rhythm must strengthen and my melody gain
My soundtrack must nurture and lead me to fight
rather than suffer the never-ending night.
To fight for tomorrow, to live for today,
to nurture the spirit and allow me to stray
With a spirit still glowing thought beaten today
and the stirring of flights of creative play
I’ll watch history be made on this terrible day.
But I’ll include my own soundtrack and live in the light.
Look to tomorrow and put up a fight.
My beats will be strong,
My voice will be clear.
I will not surrender to sorrow and fear.

The Silent Window

I’ve always thought
that even among the turmoil of the frantic news cycle,
the swirling currents of hatred and despair,
the politics of division
and the policies that contribute in the currency of fear,
hat joy still exists among the sound of birds singing.
Outside my window.
I’ve always thought
that in the hardest of times,
while personal reckonings fraught with disappointment
as frustration rises and falls inverse with sleep,
while traveling the most painful of paths
and screaming inside,
that my mind could be eased.
Watching helplessly while one you love most suffers
and steps up bravely to fight for a life so undeserving of pointless disease
I always looked to the clamor of birds
the burp of a frog
and the chatter of insects
Outside my window.
But these sounds are dimmed.
The silence of my studio extends to the grass and trees.
The little fountain in the garden babbles stark against the silence
and the ticking of the clock is audible.
It shouldn’t be.
I call out and the world doesn’t answer.
The melody of life breaks through the melancholy of silence less often.
Where do I find comfort as nature too suffers?
As that melody - that constant presence is withdrawn
my soul loses its moorings.
As life’s abundance shrinks under the hot sun.
I listen in vain for that communion so silently missing.
Outside my window.
I’ve always thought
that it was never too late.
Yet my instincts sound the alarm that time has become slippery
rendering quick change futile.
Even so it is time for caring and expression,
birdseed, flowers, water, art.
With uncertain success I will try to extend my care beyond the constricted borders
of home and studio.
To nurture what is fading and bring back in however a tiny form
what the world needs…
and I so long for.
The renewed saturation of life and birdsong
Outside my window.

Recent Posts

Had a stroke. Changed my life. Food. Art. Health. Activism.

Delete & Repeat is my artist reflection on living a healthy lifestyle, including creative expression and really good food. Its name is derived from a 2017 stroke that disrupted my life. ‘Delete & Repeat’ became a mantra of frustration for me as I struggled to organize my thoughts and communicate properly.

At the time I was a full time artist working in various new media, happily programming and creating electronic sculpture, interactive video & maintaining a full schedule travelling teaching, and showing.  The stroke effected my cognitive abilities and effectively shut down my career.

It took time and a complete change of lifestyle to recover. Primary to my effort was diet – I undertook a combination of keto with the addition watching inflammation to both lose weight and regain clarity. I added in regular exercise and yoga – and pursued a regular practice of research and learning.

In the food section I will post some of the recipes I live by. These recipes I follow my personal guidelines – they are not all super low carb (I currently stay in a low level of ketosis without the need to actually lose additional weight). In the health section I will include information and links to information that I come accross and see as potentially helpful, as well as things that I believe have helped me including exercise and yoga as well as cognetive practice in research and learning.

I am not a health professional of any sort so please do your own research. Where possible I will notate references.

After several years of effort things are paying off. I’m writing and working again. My art had been paused – it just recently picked back up. I have also renewed my commitment to activism – so important in the troubled world we live in. I intend on helping to right wrongs wherever I can. With my art – and whatever else I can find.

My Name Is Karen

This blog is meant to reflect me as a whole. I choose at this time to not publish my complete name – I’m just not there yet. I need the safety net of anonymity to protect my first real attempts at art again. Just call me Karen, but throw the name’s stereotype out the window. I am simply me.

January 22, 2020