a leaf falls, a month ends.

sometimes i feel totally crazy for about 15 minutes and pace around and write whole paragraphs of what amounts to something a sleeping person would dictate to a robot kangaroo, and then i read webcomics or look at the library of congress' flikr stream for an hour and the world feels a little like magic again.

i guess sometimes things just feel weird, but they could always be weirder.
and at least we have some happy things to bolster us up. on and off the internet.
and maybe i should just go to bed.

day two hundred ninety-eight.

i really love bela lugosi. 

even while playing a rubber bat suspended from a wire:

 that is some fine acting, sir.

 well now i'm scared of something.

yawning cat (not a demon. i repeat, not a demon).

costumes and candy and capes tonight.

halloween is the best.

day two hundred ninety-seven.

happy halloweekend

skin and bones.

tributaries.

(with a splash of halloween imagery)

two hundred ninety-six.

what was it cummings wrote?

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my dinosaur bag)

yes, that sounds just right.

day two hundred ninety-five.

i made a recent allowance to read a bit of non-school related material (that is also not on the internet) every day.
books. stories. journal articles.
grad school can rot one's brain, even with all the new knowledge to absorb. or perhaps because of it.
surely there is space for additional, sustaining literature.
surely.

saying work more, earn more, live more, have more fun

saying work more, earn more, live more, have more fun

day two hundred ninety-four.

i've been utilizing the GSLIS scanner between work and class or work and work.
every piece tells a story.

siempre.

day two hundred ninety-three.

abe lincoln: rail splitter, fashion forward.

i went through a box of not-so-old things tonight.

then i was thinking about grammar, because that is a thing people do:

In English, the present perfect is a present-tense use of the perfect, which means that it is used to refer to a subject's past actions or states while keeping the subject in a present state of reference or in a present state of mind...In other words, the subject is in a current state (now), and a past action that the subject has done or a past state that the subject has been in, is being referred to from the current state of the subject, which is the present time. This differs from the simple past tense, i.e., "I went to the cinema", which implies only that an action happened, with the action having no relevance at all to the present.

for example:

"i have felt many things."

day two hundred ninety-two.

i've been listening to laura marling and elliott smith all weekend, reading a mixture of flannery o'connor and dave eggers' zeitoun while i try to focus on things. i'm not sure that my literary and musical choices are encouraging my productivity, my attempts to order my thoughts toward symmetry, toward an accumulation of days that must be leading to something, to not just anything.

the changing weather, the days that are getting shorter, the beverages that get hotter, all of october's hints that time is moving forward: i want them to mean something.

also:

(click image to enlarge)

(or, what happens when i have to compose a take-home final in a class i don't like, nor have time for)

i expected much worse.
sometimes saying less is best.

day two hundred ninety-one(-ish).

 

this guy plays a ultra-nerd/awkward terrible date/car sexing enthusiast in the 1989 movie teen witch, which i watched again saturday night with friends.

to today's eyes, he just looks like he could be in vampire weekend.

show your bones.

 sometimes i start stories near the end:

http://mybonesareolderthanme.blogspot.com/2010/10/bolts.html

day two hundred ninety.

i woke up freezing, and so wore pants today for the third time since may.

it caused a bit of a stir.

also, i now have a table.

day two hundred eighty-nine.

movie night at robyn's, complete with hot cider and a kitten.

day two hundred eighty-eight.

i remember sitting on a bench in august, staring at this screen- my feet tired, my head heavy with the things i'd seen, with the things i couldn't begin to articulate.
i remember the piano score was at just the right volume; i could still hear the things i wanted to: the footsteps moving in and out, the quiet sounds of the person next to me, there in the dark.

it was one of the best moments of my life.

day two hundred eighty-seven.

you are all familiar with the fact that my job as a children's literature cataloger comes with its perks. i get to work with nice people, get practical experience, listen to music, and very frequently encounter books that are either incredibly charming or wildly inappropriate (or both).

this brings me to part one:

 i can't see anything that could go wrong here.

 oh.

 ohhhhh no.

and an afterthought by a sympathetic copy editor:

part two: upon encountering this gem of an image, knowing that our project would be ending soon, and learning that our boss, jenn, would be moving away at the end of the month for a new job, my co-workers and i took it upon ourselves to design a gift, as a memorial of sorts.

 we gave it to her today:

 presenting, the best tote bag ever created:

(because who doesn't need a fake MARC record to support their books and/or groceries)

the bag includes some of our favorite images, seen on:

day one hundred.
day one hundred thirty-two.
day two hundred sixty-four.
day two hundred eighty-four.

and best of all, there are now 12 of these in the world.
i, personally, am never removing mine from my shoulder.

day two hundred eighty-six.

i think these reviewers seriously hate all books.

(book on the human body, 1960s)

"duh."

(our life is not a movie or maybe)

day two hundred eighty-five.

a sunday with hot peach tea, volunteerism, fire-tinted leaves, and gas station fountain drinks.

i also wore these boots to the farmer's market yesterday morning.
i stepped in dog vomit before purchasing apples and warm bread.
today: a better day for shoes (and dogs).

day two hundred eighty-four.

moral of the story: ask and ye shall receive.
(or, god has an e-z bake oven)

 c1974

day two hundred eighty-three.

(and a happy dance birthday to maggie ness)

day two hundred eighty-two.

the suburbs:

 ghost fish

ghost art

it became dark so very early tonight.

the weather is mild, but the trees still know to change.

day two hundred eighty-one.

(stairwell, library)

  

avec le vide,

les pleins pouvoirs.

day two hundred eighty.

 

an early valentine

found today on gregory st., post-flu shot

day two-hundred seventy-nine(-ish).

south dakota.

roots.

 

(i don't know who anyone is in this one, but i love the cavalier poses, the faraway barn)