Lying on the couch listening to Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations, and though I did not notice drifting off, I got lost in an odd dream— In which my mother was my roommate. A flaky and flighty one at that, nervous-making. In which a small, featherless chicken lived in the tank with the fish. It did not swim, it walked;… Continue reading The curious effect of a parallel minor on a Sunday afternoon
"Today’s homework assignment: In one hundred and fifty words or less, describe one of the happiest days of your life."* I'm a rich person to have a kind of option paralysis in the face of this assignment. It's a day I've written of before, but it stands out in memory. * * * A day… Continue reading A glance back before the changing of the guard at midnight
[A thing I’ve been meaning to write about, but have been waiting to see how it affects, beyond initial denial and impatience.] Twelve hours after landing back in Brooklyn from New Mexico, I sustained a godawful injury to my right foot under the most mundane circumstances. Went for x-rays the next day, as it was impossibly… Continue reading The vulnerability of connective tissues
This is T. He's the third cat we've had at the Farm (since I was a child) named Tigger, but we roll like kids here, and a fitting or familiar name can always be used more than once. (Farm folk are pragmatists.) He's the sweetest cat I've known in a long time— serious; takes some time… Continue reading Having arrived at the Farm for Christmas
There was a woods across the street from the farm. On the far side of of a large corn field, then through an encircled meadow that remained un-tilled, too inaccessible for farming. A small woods through which ran a narrow, banked ribbon of stream. In winter it was the most beautiful place I could find. I'd make… Continue reading a long ago winter place
I've flown out to the Santa Fe area to help friends open Madrid General, a pop-up shop for the holiday season, which will be a fully realized shop & gallery in the Spring. The stars in the desert are limitless. So is the silence. The hum of electricity and plumbing seem amplified in the dense quiet… Continue reading A trip to the desert
When I woke I discovered my heart cast shadows longer than dreams in places where we moved as children, cured of fear, and never looked back. Sometimes when I wake I write down my dreams, or the bits I can remember. If I wake with the territory intact, I map it. The drawings are invariably simple, as… Continue reading Cartography of the subconscious
This feels senseless, irreparable. I know it's not. It's a direct hit, though. A different kind of heartbreak; More subtle, maybe— unexpected. More reckless, it feels. Unavoidable, now: you've crossed the Rubicon. The kaleidoscope has lost some of its color. How do I relearn living (again)? Who will help me make sense of things? Who’ll… Continue reading This is how the data is interpreted
The one who’s been the most present for over four years has gone. Left in a car packed with all he owns on a bright cold Sunday, December. Left a scar. We walked around the neighborhood late last night lamenting the change. Still almost not understanding or accepting— but a dawning sense. Still to come—… Continue reading Sad days ahead
I was at a friend's house the other night who owns one of a series of paintings I did in '05. I haven't done a proper painting in a couple of years, and looking at it, I wondered why. These paintings were all fleshed-out from sketches I'd done in many sketchbooks over the course of a couple… Continue reading the Grotesques
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 