I need to exercise. I need a shower. I could use some groceries. I want to ride my bike; I want to clean the fish tanks; I want to write a bangin' blog post as I've been neglectful the past few weeks, largely on account of traveling. Been mostly away the past two weeks. Delightful,… Continue reading In my mind, it was always ‘ceiling’ wax
A sudden downpour— Shrieks erupt across the street, the playground empties.
When I watch the fishes in their tank, that crystal stillness, set apart from the rumblings of the city out the window, the filter-soft bubbles cascading, the plants breathing to them— I see only their ballet. They are water, they are breath, they are words that will never be words. They are also the rumbling.… Continue reading They are also the rumbling
Coming through the window— BBQ, coal fires, wood fires. And in the sky's dome, the incandescent moon, waxing. A reflection of infinity can fit on the rim of a teacup.
As my travel plans have been postponed briefly, I’ve been going through some old backup DVDs in service to filling some holes in my ART ARCHIVE. It’s an unwieldy thing, a work in progress. The optical drive will likely go the way of cassette players and VCRs, so better to get this shit consolidated. I'll be posting old… Continue reading A Sunday afternoon with archives
I've been feeling a kind of restlessness— one that's mostly stayed away for awhile, so I'm not sure I recognize it exactly, but it feels familiar. The best thing for it is a renewed dedication to process and making. I've been active, productive, but it's been all maintenance, freelance work, and bits n bobs. I… Continue reading a bit of a lull
Today was a fine day for the first long wander in months. Walked five and a half miles through four neighborhoods. Silvered sun, soft air, and a gentle bewilderment— muscle memory or sense memory awakening in the new light. On the way home, stopped at the grocery store for a few things and bought a fancy little… Continue reading a wander, a tree, sketches
Only yesterday I took bags and boxes of things to donate to Housing Works, and already a new pile has begun to accumulate in the hall. I can’t stop deleting*. Next, soon: a harsh, realistic editing of the wardrobe. (I wear only a fraction of what I own— what's the point?) Time to delete some of… Continue reading Rituals. Looking back and springing forward—
Today broke delightfully sunny but heartrendingly windy, and that’s a confounding combination. How I miss civilized weather. Awoke suddenly this morning to a distinct memory of listening to The Queen is Dead in my room at the farm on the record player my folks gave me when I turned 16. It was an all-in-one type,… Continue reading A sun-bright frozen Sunday
November rain; grey. Dark indoors— all the lights on at midday. Wrestling with invisibles, lately, and frustrated with things beyond my control. Sometimes the freelance life has too many things outside one’s control, although it’s true of most lives.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 