July 15 2014 Tuesday at 03:22 PM

1

So what is this?

The return of a return that I have lived 1000 times & in 1000 different ways? A cliched rendition of excuses & fabled distractions?

Or the simple musings of a mind that knows it's words are loved?

I am in a different place then I was , I am always in a different place. It seems like a nomadic heart cannot be adequately satisfied with geographical commitment, the method of movement changes entirely to compensate for physical stagnation.

So it seems that since I cannot yet leave the country, my creator made it possible to abandon the social world I had created.

So when I say I am in a different place, I mean to say that I am finally alone.

Earnestly & beautifully.

You never really take heed of the noise you allow into your life when you're in the mind to be young & free. You dance with who smiles at you, & fall in love with bedroom eyes & forget all else.

All else, such as the details of your life, the delicacy of your balance & the fragile nature of your joy, now at risk because of your unenlightened negligence that you call friendship.

I have been told countless times that I must be careful with myself & the family that I choose, now I understood what was actually being said to me.

Guard yourself. Keep yourself. & do not be overcome by your own passion, because a family cannot be chosen, it can only be given & then taken away.

Love while it lasts & mourn nothing & no one.

Never look back.

Lest you turn into salt.

The biblical story of that woman meeting that fate exactly is quite profound if you entertain the modern day conception of salt. A feeling of sorrow robbing you of life itself.

I don't fear much in this world, outside of flying cockroaches & disappointing my mother, but I can say that I do certainly fear a bitter heart.

It so debilitates, it is nothing but a thief, & I wonder where all that peace goes when it is usurped by virulence. I worry that it might never come back to me. It is an enemy & yet it is myself.

How could you not be afraid?

There is a tyrant that wears your face sharing the confines of your heart, bloodying it, & relishing in your anguish. It feeds, it writhes, it grows & you find yourself overcome, filled with sadness & rage, your spirit appears misconstrued to you & everyone around you.

& to think that this was all of your own doing.

You are both the product & the consumer of both your mental misfortune & concord.

So on one hand it's terrifying, & in my case physically damning because all of that fear poisons me & I fall quite dramatically ill.

For you see, I am strong, I am too strong, I am too much for my physiology. That is what I have concluded, the assertion that the type of soul I have is too volatile for my mortal body when in disharmony.

That isn't to disrespect what lupus is by any means, it is a disease that only the strongest can survive.

& only the divine can overcome. That being whatever you believe in the most, yourself, your conception of a higher power, or the Frank Selasie way; both.

As a means of combatting this tempestuous spirit of mine I have been gifted with skills beyond my imagining. I can craft, construct, drape, sew, draw, dance, write, act, pose, style, direct, decorate, persuade & overall, exist exquisitely, distinctly & artistically, with or without coin in my velvet lined pockets.

That, is the first rule of this ART BITCH shit.

I am money.

One could call such objectification, I call it cashing in on reality. As an art bitch, in the beginning you will deal with more people, most of which will be men, then you will actual capital. They call this networking. In the high days of European royalty, the King's court would greatly resemble what you might face. There will be fake courtesy, betrayal, scandal, infamy, lust, & copious amounts of jealousy, especially if you're foreign & as such naturally favored.

This is the patriarchy, if you do not know how to graciously manipulate your way to safe waters in the art industry, these men will defecate on you for Twitter.

& you can't graciously manipulate without taking advantage of the system in place. How else do you destroy an entity if you cannot permeate & wound it?

So if you deny objectification, & leave it to the men to create a box for you, which they will do while you might be forsaking reality for the idea a cause, they will make the worst one for you, & it will probably be a combination of "thot" & feminist.

Femithot?

You read it here first.

It took me a while to embrace this concept, I didn't grow up beautiful. I was awkward, & shy, & played Mario Kart, Legend of Zelda & the Sims constantly with FashionTV on in the background, I never thought I would be a brand in myself. At least outside of my skill with words.

& then puberty came, & sex, & I abandoned my first love for a tropical country. & then I did the same to the rest, but he was the first man whose heart I broke.

I simply feel as that was a defining moment for the type of woman I was to become.

I left the promise of security for the thrill of opportunity at 17 & I have done so ever since.

I can't seem to be able to do anything else.

I started modeling officially at 19, with an agency that is. I had always favored pictures of myself, self photography is a drug to my instinctively narcissistic soul, so I already had an interesting array of images of me that seemed to impress fate, who graciously arranged for me to find myself as the personal assistant to the editor in chief of Canoe Africa.

That, is where I garnered what you will come to understand.

The importance of branding, without risking artistic integrity, no, instead evolving it, maturing it, & thereby minting it.

My former boss remains to this day one of my greatest inspirations, he recognized my spirit before he saw the beauty of my face. He saw my talent, & sought to train it & for that chance I will always be thankful. He understood my confusion at suddenly being noticed & taught me how to create myself, to my own needs & my own desires & taught me to always keep my intelligence fed & ready to dazzle an audience.

In the coming ART BITCH posts I will tell you of my tales, of the rules & regulations of this ART BITCH shit.

There have been many before me, & I will make sure there will be many more after.


With love,
The Only,

FRANK SELASIE