these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.

thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.

my artist website is here.

Mar 18, 2010


went and visited our fair liege, the Radish King, and saw the exquisite picture of Glenn Gould lost in his ecstasy, his deep, dreadful loves, his deep, unseen dreaming- and this is exactly what i mean about learning the little idiosyncrasies of your own practice. the little twists that no one else understands but is so entirely necessary. a tool. a step in the ritual. it cannot be passed by without everything falling flat. maybe it is the cup you always always always take your coffee in? maybe it is a particular notebook to write in? maybe it is a particular time of day or night when it all floods easily and hot? maybe it is a chair?


Elisabeth said...

I posted on this and lost it before it stuck. enough to say, I think it's a marvelous youtube of Gould.

For me to write is to find the right time, preferably first thing in the morning without interruption.

angela simione said...

elisabeth- me too! first thing in the morning when my mind is still sleepy enough to not have gained its censoring process yet.

Radish King said...

Glenn Gould ascends to heaven on his chair.

There's a terrific bio out there on GG. I can't remember the name from here.

I've always been interested in a certain kind of minutia. That's what he answered in response to a question about why he loved Bach.

angela simione said...

he is an amazing person. not was, is. and so entirely inspiring in a very helpful way... he is brave and fluid inside his art. he lets his "crazy" little habits carry him, as they should be allowed to, to that place in the middle of the river where everything swirls together, a harmoney. i don't think he is crazy at all. not one bit. i think he's entirely, beautifully human and that his minutia is a bright, shining example of what it is to love.

i'm always so thankful when you remind me of him. :)