I've been on a new trajectory. It’s great; it’s weird, It’s new. I love new. I also love Old. That’s neither here nor there. I’ve been feeling like a teenager again, lately. In the sense where I’m acutely aware how temporary so many people in one’s life tend to be. It’s not a judgement call;… Continue reading When time turns in upon itself, you question everything
An old drawing, recently rediscovered. And here we are, still banished to the land of wind and ghosts. I feel I’ve fairly jinxed something by quoting that passage from Hemingway a ways back; while we’ve not had too much in the way of rain, we’ve yet to meet that “night of warm wind” that brings… Continue reading The wind, HOWLING
ceiling of a coffeeshop in the Jordaan, Amsterdam"To finish the moment, to find the journey’s end in every step of the road, to live the greatest number of good hours, is wisdom."— Ralph Waldo Emerson, Experience, from Essays: Second SeriesHere is a holiday which, more than most, seems to engender feelings of ambivalence (in the… Continue reading 14 February
A continuation from last week (unpublished); always on about words, words. Waking up from an idea or a notion of something like it was a sleep-dream; acknowledging that your perception was distorted or not informed enough, and being okay with it, it’s fine. So you adjust your perception— we do it all the time. It’s… Continue reading the way something shiny looks under water, viewed from the shore
Having arrived at the realization (again) that I am simply never going to finish ALL THE THINGS, I realize it’s impossible—time cannot be stopped. There is only a chipping away at imperatives, like a block of marble out of which no soaring, winged delight will emerge— only a fleeting and illusory sense of accomplishment. (A… Continue reading imperatives and optionals
A map for a thing, utterly unrelated but pretty; based on a lovely from 'Surveying the Shore'. More on that project later... Yes, folks, I'm doing it again. NaNoWriMo has officially begun, and even (at this late, late hour) embarked upon its second *official* day. My word count stands, currently, at 1,899-- a whopping 232… Continue reading National Novel Writing Month has begun!
Listening to Joanna Newsom-- Ys. I woke suddenly at 6:30 this morning and almost had trouble returning to sleep. But it didn’t last. (That trouble is one that never lasts with me. Not in the morning, anyway,) In one dream, the cabin we were in was derelict and decrepit and had no glass in the… Continue reading edits -like haircuts- begin with sharp edges
As I am wont to do now and again, I've just gone back two years or more by reading the entries of this blog. And just came across an entry that kinda' killed me. I'll repeat only these two sentences: What a distress it all feels sometimes, this life. While I dare not wish for… Continue reading Time Travel
The drawing on paper for a soft ground etching; it's Ben in New Orleans. I'm having trouble escaping my dreams. It's as if all the unremembered or missed visitations are making up for lost time these days, arriving one upon the other, ceaselessly. It's a haunting, an undertow from which I feel I can barely… Continue reading An undertow and soft ground
The past two weeks have been strange and difficult in some ways. On the one hand, I've found it easier than I expected to be a non-smoker, and my wounds from last week are nearly healed. On the other hand, I've found it difficult to concentrate, or maybe to care, to be interested in, all… Continue reading Shifts.
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 