day two hundred sixty-eight.

back to the land of the living today.
it was nice resuming working, classing, and general non-hermiting behavior.
one bottle of diet coke and i was back in action. i'm like popeye in that way, except instead of defeating hooligans, i am overcome with the strength required to catalog books about kittens.


you would think i stored up enough sleep in the past few days, but alas, i am now exhausted once more (but...happy).
much to accomplish this weekend, much discipline to be mustered, better dreams to be summoned.
gonna ride that thursday night high as long as i can. maybe even beyond that.

day two hundred sixty-seven.

 (side note: my post from yesterday disappeared, but is still showing up in the rss feed. apologies if you are seeing this twice. thursday coming up!)

feeling a bit better this evening.
my brain is hitting that point, after several days of sickness, where i no longer want sleep or pillows or pajamas, and wish i just had the energy to move move move.
hoping for a thursday without fuzziness, or at least one with some momentum.
(antsy limbs need open spaces)


i also wish to resume eating like a normal human type person:

day two hundred sixty-six.

this morning i dreamed that both of my arms fell off and crawled across the floor of my studio.
the floor was made of bricks and my fingernails got caught in the mortar.

yeah.
still feeling pretty sick.

day two hundred sixty-five.

today i feel about as good as this guy looks.

i might smell better though.

i cannot really afford to be sick this week.

(trying to get more rest)

but lucky for you, i already had some wordiness prepared for blog number two.

day two hundred sixty-four.

important imagery, published in 1982.

 

fiction?

when in the countryside, one must defend oneself in the most violent way possible:

and fight sincerely for the affections of a salt shaker:

TKO!

these kitchen receptacles are seriously bloodthirsty.

had a great final night of pygmalion.
roky erikson/okkervil river, successful avoidance of ted leo, and young bands doing headstands and flips.
if eating my sunday morning toast at 1:00 am with friends is any indication of the start to a good week, i think i'll be okay.

day two hundred sixty-three.

on a related note:

http://mybonesareolderthanme.blogspot.com/

d.e.

We feel that to reveal embarrassing or private things...we have given someone something, that, like a primitive person fearing that a photographer will steal his soul, we identify our secrets, our past and their blotches, with our identity, that revealing our habits or losses or deeds somehow makes one less of oneself. But it's just the opposite, more is more is more--more bleeding, more giving. These things, details stories, whatever, are like the skin shed by snakes, who leave theirs for anyone to see. What does he care where it is, who sees it, this snake, and his skin?


...secrets do not increase in value if kept in a gore-ian lockbox, because one's past is either made useful or else mutates and becomes cancerous. We share things for the obvious reasons: it makes us feel un-alone, it spreads the weight over a larger area, it holds the possibility of making our share lighter. And it can work either way - not simply as a pain-relief device, but, in the case of not bad news but good, as a share-the-happy-things-I've-seen/lessons-I've-learned vehicle. Or as a tool for simple connectivity for its own sake, a testing of waters, a stab at engagement with a mass of strangers.

day two hundred sixty-two.

dance friday is for concert goers.

things making me happy this week:

• good music
• familiar photographs
• great friends and their hugs
• pumpkin-flavored everything
• books about magical baking pans

now, i want some apple cider in a giant mug.

happy fall.

day two hundred sixty-one.

day one of pygmalion music festival:

"i have one commandment: dance....OR DIE."

i didn't take any pictures inside the show, as i was busy absorbing the magical, ruffly, acrobatic, sweaty wonder of it all. i wish you all could have been there.
amazing performances, truly.

those of you unfamiliar with janelle monáe should try to, you know, get familiar. at your leisure.

jc: they look like a goblin marching band from the moon .

robyn: they ARE a goblin marching band from the moon! 

(of montreal)

this one salon is into giving free buzz cuts outside at these sorts of events.

happy nest making, birds of urbana.

tired, tightroping boots.

more music, fun, and sleepiness to come.

day two hundred sixty.

sports and the world of tomorrow!

new york world's fair, 1939

 if i told you that his secret was that he wanted to go to the fair and become a prized piece of livestock, i feel like i'd be under-serving your expectations.




pygmalion music festival starts tonight!
it could not come at a finer time.

day two hundred fifty-nine.

another day, another wolf man.

norman rockwell meets soundgarden : book cover edition.

an envelope kind of went through something, or perhaps was dragged through it, on the way here.

it necessitated a letter of condolence from the post office and an encasement of plastic.

alas, i believe i was merely spared the trouble of opening the envelope myself (and such tasks are really too much for a lady of delicate constitution).

the forces and joys of the postal service are still strong.

convergences.

at left: lining pages, 1958

at right: volo bog (via maggie), 2010

things in the world, they eventually come together.

 (phantom limbs can find their host)

my monday was a bit disorienting. 

but beauty, it found its way through the wires. 

day two hundred fifty-eight.

i was talking about oregon yesterday and it reminded me that i had a book come through my desk about that beautiful state.

it is mainly about how people live and work with the land, and how its loveliness needs to be preserved. a worthy topic.

c1986

but it started to get a little weird on page one:

um.

and the man behind the quote?

oh yeah, all i can see there is that beautiful land.

day two hundred fifty-seven.

i am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections and the truth of imagination. what the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth - whether it existed before or not.

(oft quoted, oft sought)

day two hundred fifty-six.

busy saturday here in the other twin cities.
an early morning at the public library, for computer tutoring sessions with senior citizens, followed by a nice brunch at the courier cafe:

(i love when places give you your own little pot)

then:

jessica, of the DC jessicas, came to visit! 

 spicy salmon at siam terrace.

she is on a dream vacation through the state of illinois and was kind enough to breeze through my area for the evening.

we followed our dinner with a movie and sorbet at cakes on walnut.

happy times.

etc.

(darkness always turns into the dawn)

day two hundred fifty-five.

happy dance friday
love, jc and cw

(my weapon of choice? garlic.)
(for eatin' and defeatin')

day two hundred fifty-four.

king kong! has! opinions!

the alphabet

bad dog.

i thought a sock was a mouse this morning.
the time has come to pick up the apartment.
pick it up, shake it out.
also to write a paper, clothed in the color of my greatest power.

c'mon weekend, i can feel you waiting.

day two hundred fifty-three.

sometimes our books come with hand written notes on select pages, from those who reviewed them in the past.

let the nitpicking ensue:

fiddler's fancy

by julia montgomery street

c1955

some instructions:

and a bit of shock and indignation from a book on plants:

a very busy week, now reaching its halfway point.

when i have too much to do, i often block out time to watch the movies i've seen before, as if seeing even fragments of the familiar will order my thoughts in some productive way.
it only works sometimes.

day two hundred fifty-two.

i think the bangs bring that up a half step on the scale.

work fort

co-op couscous

(sometimes i could just watch movies all day)