sometimes the internet.

(Photo: Cassie Cummins)



“Oh you remember? The last time we came here I forgot my purse. “

“I know, I grabbed it for you on the way back to the train.”

“What is this? Is this art? Is this a plant, or what?“

“I think it’s art. My grandson made something like this. I don’t think it was growing though. Might have been plastic or painted wood? I forgot my glasses that night and didn’t want anyone to know. The opening was much too crowded, couldn’t get that close anyhow.”

“This one’s growing, though. It’s like those ones Barb has in her front yard. Ficus? No, that’s not it. The ones she treats like her children. Can you believe she cried that early frost?”

“She’ll cry at the drop of a hat.”

“And I’m the fool for crying when Jean and the kids visit! It was just that one time, you know.”

“She’s just jealous; her family never visits. It’s a stretch even getting Patricia out here from the city, and you know they’ve always been close. Swear to god when I met them thought they were twins. “

“They don’t look anything alike!”

“It’s the eyes. “

“Oh, I see that”.

“Did Joe say he was going to pick us up here? I’m not taking the subway.”

“Who knows. I can call, but, you know.. the game.”

“It’s always the game. We can get a cab.”

angelina

hunters

paul kwietkowski

crying.

alice.

maybe when i think my stories are too short i'll just recite them over strums and hushed vocals.

last september/this september

things that i will always love

i made this in ten minutes!

(last day of class, newgold band ring)

8.11.11

i had that dream about the infant, curled on my chest, a sibling not a child of mine. the weight stayed as i struggled to wake and turned into a burden i couldn't shake. i thought there was a cat on me, around me, could feel the pawsteps on the couch behind my head but as i attempted to rid myself of the dream heaviness the movement around me turned sinister and i could feel it trying to enter my body. it wanted to come in at the back of my neck and take me over. the sensation lasted for about 30 seconds while i was unsure of reality or dreamstate. i thought of death and fragility, because i had no control over the negative spirit, but then it broke and i was sweating on my couch with this american life still telling the story of prisoners enacting the last scene of hamlet, which i loved, and i felt invincible again. i'm always "unstoppable" in my waking state, when my mind can be controlled, when i can be distracted so easily from my feelings.

That once meant something to me but now it's beside the point.

I'm sure this place was advertised as "just off the highway", which means it's actually next to the highway, like I can count the cars as they pass and would be able to tell you the type of car if I were the kind of person that knew those things. The sun is hot already at 8 am and I'm wearing flip flops with a silk flower on top because in this place I don't care. I actually find some kind of comfort in being super normal. I'm failing at that though, because there's a middle aged couple in the breakfast room and they peer over their newspapers at me with little concealed judgement. Is my dress too short? Of course it is, and my hair's "weird", and I'm not taking my sunglasses off, because my eyes hurt, so I guess my attempt at average and decent is pushed off for a later date.

I'm sharing a double decker bus with 5 other people.

I left extra time to get coffee before the bus came, like a real person. This is something that has never come naturally to me, leaving a time cushion to make a trip more comfortable. I run to catch trains and buses with remarkable regularity. Anyways, it was with great pride that I walked into the cafe, filling up a cup with hot coffee despite the soaring temperature outside. I read once that people in the Middle East drink hot tea because it takes more energy for the body to heat up cold liquid than to cool down hot liquid (or something). I never fact checked this but I think of it every time, plus iced coffee disappears in about five minutes. I grabbed a bagel and little pot of cream cheese to eat on the bus.

I had a knife, but once I opened the container of cream cheese I was transported immediately back to high school, when my daily breakfast was a bagel dipped in cream cheese before each bite. It was $1.10, $1.35 if I elected to get a carton of chocolate milk, which I usually did. I still like that method of distributing the topping; it allows the cool cream to start every mouthful, which is somehow more satisfying than the traditional spread-on-top technique.

I like eating with my fingers. Obviously I'm fooling myself into thinking a little trip planning makes me an adult. Not even close!

from 5.29.11

the early morning light is starting to turn green blue; i hear some foreign chirping animal. a bird? it just stopped its incessant noise.

started again. so cheerful. it's a string approximation, a back and forth waxing and waning of some message that i will never understand. i do a little though. it's contentment. can you believe i'm in love?

more brights

(dazed, proenza, wallpaper)

COLOR INSPIRATION

necklace #2

(embroidery thread, silver bolts)

new work

first necklace made.

(string, embroidery thread, cotter pins.)

sometimes the passing cars sound like breathing, a pulse that comes and goes with a certain repetition. i lived by a highway for years, but that's more of a constant quiet roar, contentment in a small town with people quickly passing through. i remember sleeping at my grandmother's house at a young age, scared of the city noises i could hear through closed windows. it would be ninety degrees with no air conditioning but i didn't want to open the windows because i'd read reader's digest. unexplainable fears. now the noise is comforting; neighbors putting out trash, dog walking, spring birds finally making an appearance. i appreciate silence but i like the reminder of life around me, and every once in a while i think i can hear the hum of 95 which puts me right at home.

4.12.11

there's a pair of tarnished oxfords on my bookshelf. i wore them once, then somehow a driving rain through my open window turned them deeper brown and exaggerated cracks along the insole, creating separations by the laces. the leather's no longer pliable; it was already stiff when i tried to break it in but now it might as well be cement. they're fossil footwear, pieces of someone's wardrobe, beautifully crafted, that will never be useful again.

half sentences with no context

TRANSCRIBED DIRECTLY FROM MY TEXT DRAFTS FOLDER.

"Yeah. Definitely. I'm for irresponsibility at time but"

"Playing pool in Brattleboro, vt"

"Never wearing a silk shirt in the summer ever again"

"Hey babe, last night was amazing"

"I'm doing the worst job at this. I'm"

"Also I was talking to Candy about tattoos"

"Ahh he is puking"

"I'm pretty over this pseudo-relationshi"

"I feel like the walking dead.. Like i've been up for days."

"Haha.. Nothing really. I don't know if i wanted anything to happen..."

"Oh my god! No more!"

"I wish i meant barb the large"

3.8.10

I just found this in a notebook from last year. It's a funny cycle; winter gets me down, then with spring comes a search for rejuvenation.

"The air is crisp, still, that slowly warming smell of early spring. Breezes blow off mounds of snow stalwartly holding their ground. There's such a promise in this season's change, just like every other March but inexplicably new. I wrote so recently about exhaustion, the end of life, and being alone; this weekend gave me new inspiration. I feel like I need to surround myself with people that are contemplative and constantly exploring. Something is missing, and instead of being creative I'm wasting time. I say this too much."

Orelha Negra - M.I.R.I.A.M. X Vhils aka Alexandre Farto from Vhils on Vimeo.

the cai gou-qiang of street art.

from last spring

breeze please waft stronger

this air is stagnant, and still

the heat grows

iris apfel

this woman never ceases to amaze me.