The Vast Landscape hangs…

 …in heaven.

#’With the Father.’

 

 

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Moshino modeling ’95
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choffy & me
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First test shoot NYC 18 years old
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‘With The Father’Whether in Paris, Milan, London, Madrid, etc. I always bought 2 copies of magazines with new modeling pictures. One for my parents. (more my dad) I wanted to share them with him, partly because I KNEW how proud he was no matter what I did. He laminated the pictures, and ran around town in his Ford Festiva showing EVERYONE and anyone.

#‎TheVastLandscape‬ ‪#‎JamesFrankCioffa‬ ‪

#‎MYBIGGESTFAN‬

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Comings and Goings

Because it’s raining, and my mother sits in the kitchen with a pencil reading Georgia Pine., first edits. I reflect. Typing in my Zen room, deep in the world of Georgia Pine. I work fast, anxious to see how the story ends, intersects, everything comes to a close. (even I don’t know if they characters will veer left or right). I am melancholy. I will miss Harrison, and her descendants. For me, living in their world is a gift, the best part of the writing process. Then I remember, people go, even imaginary ones. They exist in the mind, muscle, blood and soul, by memory. It’s the comings and goings that count.

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Georgia Pine.

– excerpt

‘Don’t let anyone make fun of you carrot top, freckle face, how you are. Someday, they will see how dazzling and pretty you are. Stand your ground, find something to believe in and go for it. Don’t look back. Don’t apologize. Be nicer to your mother, she was a free spirit once. She plain forgot. Make her laugh when she gets too serious. Protect and cherish your sisters, they’re what you got. At some point, you will be disappointed by them, even hate one or all. They might despise you, too. It won’t matter, your sisters will pick your side every time. I promise, that’s what families do. Your family, our family is bound by deep love and tradition. We are not quitters; we are backwards optimists. Takes a little longer, we get there on our time. I love that shared trait. We believe in our truths, once we’ve ripped them apart and examined the guts with a Lupe. I’m dying baby, I won’t spare you, hide the truth. So you can wonder where the hell I went. I adore you too much to leave you questioning my invisible parts. I love you right now, in this room, on this bed. You’re my big girl, so smart. I will miss bedtime tuck in’s, our secrets. Don’t tell your mama, she won’t understand. You have your grandfather’s eyes, and my cautious curiosity. Close your tired eyes, tomorrow we’ll go to the beach. Hug your grandfather when he gets sad. He’ll need you Georgia Pine, when I go.’

“Georgia looks at Harrison through the puzzled eyes of an eight year old. Hush don’t be afraid, life is about coming and going.”

http://www.amazon.com/THE-VAST-LANDSCAPE-Jacqueline-Cioffa-ebook/dp/B00H3P51LS

 

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Walk On By. suicide, triggers, one perspective from a manic depressive

Twelve years and however many months, I sat across from the very together, all business woman shrink, who handed me a ‘life sentence.’ I looked at my mother, and burst into tears. No, no, no please god. I could not believe it, yet I already knew. Hallucinations, ghosts, talking way too fast, dancing in Radio Shack (mortifying), writing furiously on stacks and stacks of paper on a cardboard box. Brain zaps, months with no sleep, sobbing in fetal position, alternating between Nascar velocity and black, nothingness. The me, the traveler, the unafraid mouth, unpredictable was gone. I should have known, seen it coming. My father was lying home, fighting his own battle with the insidious, genetic mad mind disease. His eyes recognized me, his mind did not, stealing the best parts of him. Fast forward today, the present. It takes between one and two hours for me to wake, take the required psych drugs, supplements, to quash the anxiety, numbness, physical pain, tremors, the thousand questions flying through the diseased brain that betrays me. I look to her, my mother for grounding, keeping me here, asking her fifty times over the course of a day, “do you think I’m going to make it. Am I strong enough?” She nods, “of course.” Even her empathy, understanding, patience, waivering. She is tired, it has been a long, thankless journey and I am exhausted. Triggers. There are triggers, so many triggers I cannot rationalize, wish away. There is no control, no choice, there is only fear and the will to fight. I dig deep, some days the Marianna Trenches aren’t deep enough. I can not win. The crickets chirping sound like an air missile strike, I fight because that’s what I’m told to do. Twelve years, ECT, pills that don’t work, the invisible pain only I see. Only I feel, without reasoning, rational answers. Do I think Robin Williams ‘chose,’ to die? No way, I fucking don’t. That’s absurd, his exhausted, beautiful, chaotic brain did. He chose to live a rich, empathic life, sharing his genius with the world, passionate, to keep on loving, giving for as long and well as he could. He chose to ignore the voices, squash them under layer upon layer in his ‘mad’ mind. He didn’t give up, give in to suicide, he didn’t quit. Nor did the rest of the millions afflicted by the brutal, incessant war that is Mental Illness. So, fuck you. Fuck them. Fuck everyone who has voiced their uneducated opinion on the why, how, the particulars, mob mentality spectators. None of us are smarter than the intangible, invisible mystery that is the mind. I keep the one piece of control I have, a mental note zipped in my back pocket with the words, exit strategy. Realistic, I’ve read all the statistics, had my heart shredded watching loved ones lose the battle. I’ve done everything ‘right.’ And still I know, there is the very real possibility, that someday for no apparent reason, I may whip it out. So if you see me and think, she’s doing great. I’m not. No, not really. I’m not at all. Don’t make assumptions, because a person smiles, laughs on the outside. Know that I am working very, very hard to make you, less uncomfortable.

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8/8/14 Global Meditation for Peace

 

Two human silouhettes meditating in front of the earth by night

 

 

 

8/8/14. Global Meditation for Peace.

 

 

 

Is happening today, around the globe. Set your best intentions, positive healing thoughts. Many of us have more than enough, too much stuff. Excess is the new millennium philosophy. Take two minutes, a minute to meditate, pause and reflect. Children are being blown to smithereens, missiles shred civilian planes from the sky, war and chaos are the new comfort. Others (our brothers) suffer, while we sit comfortably watching the news on one of seven TVs, aghast. Grateful, this tragedy is not happening in ‘my insular world.‘ It is happening, indirectly. This is our collective planet, on lease for a short while.

8/8/14. Today, an army of peace warriors are sending light and good wishes into the universe. Hundreds of thousands strong. Be mindful.

Be aware.

Me too.

Peace prayer.

THIS, SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING NOW.
THIS, SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING NOW.

 

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Gratitude. trinkets. family, spirits, best intentions, OM…<3 PEACE.