She said losing love is like a window in your heart.  Everybody sees you’re blown apart.  Everyone sees the wind blow. 


Hearing a beloved song from the past is like a surprise visit from a dear old friend.  And if that friend were carrying a suitcase filled with dusty souvenirs and decrepit childhood memories….I would curl up at her feet, slowly open the case and look inside.

The Red Balloon by Albert Lamorisse-1956iii2

I am thinking of the new year.  We all want to hit the reset button, start fresh, start clean.  I have to be a bit different about this one, however.  If I waited until January to reboot, there would be no me to work from.  Everyday has to be that new day.


There have been so many moments lately where I am so aware of my/our/your loneliness.  How badly we want to connect.  How desperately hard it is to do so.  We just want to be seen and chosen by the person who will fill the crevices in our hearts.  My friend put it perfectly when she said, ‘all I want is for someone to say, you, I want you.’  I see so many empty souls robbing the hope from those who dare to place themselves in the path of love.  If you happen upon me, thumb out, on the lonely highway towards love, don’t pullover unless there’s room for two.  These hyenas disguised as Lyons are ruining all the fun.  Just as I have often wished that peoples insides matched their outsides, I long for honesty in this pursuit of love.



And if you offer to me the truth, I will offer to you the vastness of my heart.  Nothing less.



On my walk to the post office today I heard “Graceland” by Paul Simon.  A door in my mind flew open and all of the worlds weather rushed in.  I felt the chill of time gone by.  I was burnt by the heat of teenage silliness.  I was lulled to sleep by the quiet blues of rainy days, so many.

Maggie Rizer in Jean Paul Gaultier Paris Couture Bride by Craig McDean-Vogue-October-2002


And my traveling companions, Are ghosts and empty sockets, I’m looking at ghosts and empties, But I’ve reason to believe, We all will be received, In Graceland


Crowns, Bukowski, and LaMontagne

01 Trouble Ray Lamontangue

Some people never go crazy, What truly horrible lives they must live.

Never get out of bed before noon.

Anything is a waste of time unless you are fucking well or creating well or getting well or looming toward a kind of phantom-love-happiness.

Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing.

“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”

An intellectual says a simple thing in a hard way. An artist says a hard thing in a simple way.

Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside — remembering all the times you’ve felt that way.

there are worse things
than being alone
but it often takes
decades to realize this
and most often when you do
it’s too late
and there’s nothing worse
than too late

I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches, only writes to, keeps little photographs of.

And introducing the Flyadome by Annie….

Staying Warm is like falling in love.

Packing for this journey was a delicate endeavor.  I undertook it with an eye to glory.  This method landed me in a snow bound ice box with 16 pairs of zero traction cowboy boots and 7 capes.  Ever the romantic.  Never the wiser.  So now I close my eyes and imagine how I will stay warm in this town.


I will reside in a cozy shack swathed in bear skin furs and wild roaring fires.

Swagger.  I will definitely swagger.

Frolicking will happen.  It really loosens up the muscles.

I will wear lots of denim and I will seek men that do the same.

I will share my body heat, for the cause.

I will snoop and gather.

I won’t hide my body.  It is wonderful and warm inside.

I will find heat in the nooks and crannies.

I will stay gilded and golden.


Dear Readers,

This blog is the warm and honest center of my life.  Thank you for putting up with my hot and cold disposition.  I am grateful on the daily for having a voice and some ears to hear it.


M. Josi

What I Got

There are times when one must draw ink from other wells.  Lucky Mustang, I have countless sources of inspiration and motivation at my very door step.  Today I honor a fraction of those cats that keep me stimulated when my reservations run dry.  Sadly this will be the outing of me.  You will all now know that I am far from the shining light in this strand.  I am honored just to live amongst this tribe of chiefs.

Starting with my humble household, Hyphytown!

The indomitable Annie Weinart creator of Annieland…..

Talk nerdy ta meh!

Custom costumes for dance and overall Jo Folley.

I have never seen anyone look bad in one of these.  You better bring a snorkel cause your gonna be balls deep in star dust!

‘Cuz sometimes a normal size hat is just too, well, normal.  Which leads us to her partner in art and shenanigans….

Sage Cattabriga-Alosa: Skier, Artist, and Professional Monkey Wrangler

Pixel Manipulation….

Unfortunately he needs a day job.

And when they told him that he couldn’t have gold chains as ski poles, that man done proved ’em wrong.  Way wrong.

The newest addition to our homestead Naomi Simpkins! I wish you could capture the way this woman lives her life with a photo.  You can’t.  Getting things done is her business and folks, business is boomin!

She makah da bustle

She makah da adornments

She makah da pretty face.
What a house!  Our landlord should be paying us rent.

And if I need more, I got more.

I got your tunes….Bryan Barisone

I got your high art…..Ashley Montague

I got your luxury accessories….Ashley Doty creator of Owlita

I got your death defying beauty…. Gemma and Stephanie at Nightflight Aerial Studio

Yep, I got you.

Mind Bottled: Part Deux-The Closet

Why did I go to design school?  Why do I run, crunch, and struggle through push ups? Why do I rubber neck my way through life?  Why I spend a kings ransom on festivals and tom foolery?  One word.  Iloveclothing.  Piles of clothing mark the places on my bedroom floor where I decided that I needed to wear shorts instead of leggings or some other such item.  It looks like a small army disintegrated into thin air leaving only their clothing.  My getting ready process is a aria of color and frustration that crescendos with an ecstatic launch into the living room where I twirl and pout into the full length.   A great love indeed.

Without further ado, the final five in my list of things I am loving right now.  Come out of the closet my dear ones……

6) The Dapper Man Piece.  I am insanely inspired by the dandy style, that cocked hat, that early bespoke tailoring.  It says I give a hoot but I still came to party.  Day-em!

7) Throwback silhouettes.  Hearkening back to a time when naughtiness was suggested and implied, not forced.  I have been seeing some yummy bell bottoms making their way back into the periphery and I am pleased.  Very pleased.


8 ) Something wicked this way comes.  Gareth Pugh.  Strange and wonderful things that make me feel.

9) Homesteadin’ with Hils and Kate.  Grab you a young grizzly Adam, a jug of xx hooch, a poplin circle skirt, and get your hind parts down to the barn for some do-see-do’n.

10) Kate Moss.  Every stitch that adorns her body is glorious.  I am sure that when she finally kicks over from all that blow and bulimia she will be remembered as more that just a model. She comes the closest to being my fashion mecca, I kneel down and pray in her direction every day at noon.

There you have it.  I hope you enjoyed.  Tomorrow night is the Portland Prom and if my first prom was any indication of how this one will go, well, let us hope for the best.


Ooohhhh, bonus….


Spring, Sprang, Sprung

Finally, after false starts and heart breaking deluges of rain and cold, it seems as if Spring may have sprung.  I am aware that just the mere act of writing this may bring on another winter and if it does I will knit you all a rain poncho out of the threads of my moldy words.  And so we begin…..

After two plus weeks of hustling for those duckets behind a lawn mower and trowel I am back in Portland with the intention of staying put.  Still jobless but hopeful that Spring will bring me some prospects.  Stay tuned for a new line of woman’s work wear that I conceptualized with my friend Elisha.  While on bent knee in the mud and muck I fantasized about what I would wear if I were dry and when I realized that I might never be so,  I started on what to wear while I was wet, dirty, and toiling.  I have sketched up some pieces and will start on the material sourcing and color story as soon as I can.  If any of you readers have thoughts on what you would like in tough work wear please let me know.  I know that you all like to work outside for job or joy and would prefer to be well clothed as you do.

I was blessed with tickets to Mos Def for my birthday by one Cambria Rippa.  Oh glory be!  Having been a fan of his music, acting, and face for many moons, you can well imagine my ecstatic shouts of happy at every move he made.  And what moves!  Mr. Mos held a look of blissed out nummerness throughout and moved with the funk and grace of a troubadour.   One of my companions had nothing nice to say about his djs, and though I am inclined to agree in hindsight, I didn’t notice during the show.  All I saw was an extremely well dressed man performing perfectly just for me.  Not to mention all of the eye candy that surrounded me.  Mama likes a little color in her life……..At one point a fella approached me and commented on the superiority of my hind quarters, to which I said, “The lord giveth.”  His reply was lightning quick and just about enough to get my number immediately.  “The lord asketh me to holler at you latereth.”  Yup.

I have been harvesting photos for this blog for a while now and have some that are random enough to never fit into one category.  This is the perfect entry for such things.  The poem is by my favorite, Pablo Neruda.  He writes of ocean and wood, love and earth.  Perfection.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.

Write for example: ‘The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’

The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.

Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me

The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.

-from Twenty Poems of Love

Adorned, darkly

What does it mean when you consider yourself sunny but your taste runs darker than a prairie night?  Upon packing for my trip I found my bag filled to bursting with black, gray, and combinations there of.  I sure do hope it’s not too much an indicator of my mental temperature.  Either way, for your viewing pleasure I have compiled some of my favorite adornments.  All of which lean towards the macabre.  Just pair it with a mini hat and some hammer pants.  No one will accuse you of melancholy.

“Do not go gentle into that good night……..”



Black Sheep and Prodigal Sons eek out a niche that I like to call blasphemous bones.  I really dig the mix of relics and dead things.  Oh, and a key, just cuz it’s cool right now.


Do I love you because your name is Pamela Love?  Or is your name Pamela Love because I love you?  (Lots of love for such dark matter.)  Regardless, Miss Love is hot shit right now and for good reason.  That giant star bracelet is all kinds of awesome.



The creations of Alexander Calder (1898-1976) are wicked smart and prodigal beyond belief.  He used a hammer and not much else to bend, mold, and sculpt pieces that now sit in a museum.  P.S.  Isn’t Angelica Houston lovely?  What a face!



Every once and a while etsy spits out something amazing.  This is one of those times.  Norwegian wood is more than just diy, it is high end goodies for low end duckets.  God bless you!



This man is a god in my book.  Heat up some metal, pour it over the head of a babe, and voile!  What magic!

What’s next folks?  What boundries haven’t yet been pushed within an inch of darkness?  I love you life!  You make such pretty and wonderful things.

I leave you with the fitting words of Edgar Allen Poe…


Thou askest me whence I came, I came o’er the sleeping sea;

It roused at my torrent of storm and flame, And howled aloud in its agony,

And swelled to the sky- that sleepy sea.

-from The Magician