day 1 (again)

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i don't know what to say, i just want to talk - the chatter of these keys, the light of the computer screen catching in the thin wrinkles of my knuckles.  i'm back in california after 6 weeks of living out of a single bag.  i found myself pacing back and forth in my bedroom, from my bedroom to the kitchen and back again, from my bedroom to the bathroom and back again;  turning in circles and not knowing what to do with myself.

it was overcast and grey here today.  just yesterday, i was in sunny Austin, TX.  just a week ago, snowy Johnson, VT.  it is surreal to look up at my bookcase.  it is strange to know that time has passed and life has moved forward and yet all these objects are right where i left them. 

on my walk to get a cup of coffee this morning, i found a dismembered pigeon wing on the sidewalk.  i didn't have my camera or my phone with me and was nervous someone would come by and kick it in to the street before i could take a picture of it.  i walked with my sweetheart part way to the train as he headed off to work and then doubled back under the overpass to get the shot.  the little wing was still there, silent and unassuming on the grey ground. 

something about this little torn wing wouldn't let me just walk passed and forget all about it.  a poetry worth wincing over.




it feels weird to be here. 

there were moments today when i would suddenly feel a bit lost.  there were moments when i felt like time had suddenly folded over itself and i had been thrown into the past.  i'd look at my shoes and i'd look at the street signs and wonder how it was possible that i was standing where i was. wasn't i just gorging myself on a beautiful thankgiving dinner in Texas?  wasn't i just hugging my boyfriend's family and friends?  wasn't i just in brooklyn hugging new friends of my own?  wasn't i just at jackie's house, listening to madonna on vinyl and petting her sweet little grey cat?  wasn't i just arriving in Vermont?  haven't i just begun this adventure?  haven't i just packed my bag?

i feel so lucky.  and also so shaken.  i'll make sure that more adventure finds me in no time.  it's amazing how truly GOOD life can be sometimes.


it was wonderful to wake up next to my lover this morning.  it was wonderful to turn toward each other below our dark grey sheets and smile at each other as soon as our eyes were open.  it was wonderful to be able to reach just a few inches and find his form after enduring such a hefty, painful distance from one another.  and in that reach, home.

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trying not to count the days

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i am awake and alone inside a silent house.  the light is beautiful and i had no bad dreams.

i booked a room at The Jane in new york for a few days in mid october before heading up to Montreal and then back down to Vermont for the residency.  less than 2 weeks now until i board my plane.  last week, i was full of excited anxiety and it was incredibly hard to go to work. this week, i'm calm.  i'm trying not to think about it much, only in terms of what needs to be handled before i leave my life here in Oakland for 6 weeks-  the packages that need to be shipped, the day i'll need to spend at the DMV replacing my lost driver's license, bill payments that need to be scheduled, etc etc.  when i start thinking about anything beyond these types of regular responsibilities, my blood runs too hot too quickly and i return to that semi-afraid state of elation that finds me so easily at the mere mention of travel.

but this is more than travel.  this is Time.  it's been years since i've had the time to just curl up with a book for three days straight if i want to.  it's been years since i've had the time to curl up with a drawing for three days straight if i want to.  it's been years since i've been surrounded by other artists on a daily basis.  not since art school.  and i'll tell ya, hanging out with other artists is what i miss most about that experience.  it's one of the things i'm looking forward to most about going to this residency.  i'll be one of 50 artists and writers.  i'm so excited for the conversations that we're going to have. 

i've been reading Keith Haring's journals the last few days and his descriptions of art school, going to painting class and poetry readings, putting together shows, and his own ideas about his practice are so intoxicating.  i revel in it.  i turn the pages hungrily, grateful for each word and insight.  i'm comforted by his texts, so full of casual language.  that's how i write in my diary.  i am no Anais Nin.  my eloquence finds me after a flood of slang and swear words.  i've always sort of felt bad that my diary is not a place of eloquence.  until now.  perhaps the eloquence is simply of a different variety?  perhaps my aims are totally different, totally my own.  i'm looking forward to traveling with Keith Haring's diary pressed against mine, two of the best travel companions i can think of.  i'm looking forward to walking around new york city and seeing the places he describes in these pages.  those that are still there.  i'm looking forward to going to the Guggenheim for the first time and central park.  funny i've yet to do such quintessentially new york things on past visits. 

but there i go dreaming. :) 

it's important to me to stay put in The Present the next 13 days.  i don't want to slide off into reverie just yet.  i want the realities that surround me.  i want to enjoy the peace and quiet of a slow morning at home before work.  i want to enjoy the sounds of the street and the screech of the train.  i want to enjoy walking in to a neighborhood bar at midnight after a long day at work and seeing my lover sitting on a bar stool waiting for me.  i want to see him turn and smile at me.  i want to hold his face in my hands and kiss it.  and i want to stay in that moment.  i want to laugh with him.  i want to laugh with my friends and fellow waiters and roommates.  i want to enjoy every single thing about the simple goodness of my life right this second and not slip off in to dreams.  the future will find me.  i am creating it.  there is no need today to loll inside such images. there is a need, instead, to be gratefully happy for the day i'm standing in. 

i am a very lucky girl. 

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work and repose

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nothing like a little semi-nude photography to get the evening started with a bang.  :)  

i had the day off and i spent it almost entirely in bed crocheting.  it's been wonderful.  no make-up, no schedule, no other agenda other than art-making.  days like this remind me of the goodness of my life and to be thankful for the wide-open freedom it contains.  this type of devotion - the slow progress of hand-made textiles - is a luxury.  it requires an expanse of time most people seem not to have or to not allow themselves even if they do.  there are lawns to be mowed and cars to be washed and another trip to the grocery store.  there is always something that must be tended to.  weekends lose their glamour easily.  and then there's that awful fatigue that finds us all from time to time...  that feeling that the effort simply isn't worth it, that what we have to say is stupid and that our loves (and lives) are somehow Lesser Than.  but not today.  today i was able to relish this moment of calm methodology.  i twisted the yarn around the hook and lost myself in the rhythm of the pattern.  i let my mind wander.  i let myself dream.  i let myself enjoy this quietude.  i've needed it.  there's so much to process.  especially since the trip.  

in less than 2 weeks i'll be 33.  my jesus birthday is here.  it's so strange to think of my age.  i feel like no age really fits.  what does it mean to feel a certain age?  no number seems to hold some sort of unnameable secret, nor does it belie any type of truth about an individual.  still, it does seem to ring true that the 30s are an era in which an individual truly does come in to their own.  at least it has been for me thus far.  the loop of time gets me thinking about my life and where i want to take this next year of my existence.  it's the ritual of growth, i suppose: another season opens, another season closes.  i re-read certain entries in the diary.  i leaf through the record of this wild, unimaginably good year and marvel at how different my life is; there is hardly any resemblance between my life now and what it was 2 years ago. for my birthday last year, i took myself to new york for the very first time.  that trip set in motion an entire wealth of changes, an entirely new outlook on life and a desire to live it as fully as possible, as true to myself as possible.  in the year that has elapsed since, i've been to new york four times and managed to take myself to europe.  it doesn't seem possible!  it seems like someone else's life i'm talking about here!  it amazes me that I got to do these things and pursue this path!  i'm still processing the effects and meaning of Travel.  i'm not even sure how to write about it yet...  it instantly changes a person.  i'm trying to settle back in to my life here in california but i don't want to somehow obscure the changes that have taken place within me.  rather, i'm trying to find a site of stillness, some sort of silence that will allow these changes to rise to the surface of my being and blossom. 

while i was gone, i thought of the next blanket i would make.  i'm glad to be working on it now.  

settling in

i'm sitting in bed under my white quilt with all my clothes on, even my socks.  it is a cold night.  my bra is digging in to me but i don't care about getting undressed.  i don't care about getting comfortable. there is a cocktail on the nightstand to the left of my bed.

when i was in Europe my phone didn't work.  no voice and no text.  i could connect to the internet and use it as a mini computer if there was wifi available but it was freeing to know that it wouldn't ring or buzz.  i no longer spent precious time worrying if so-and-so would text.  i was on my own in so many ways and, for the first time in a very long time, free to stop worrying about Time.  the only actual responsibilities i had was feeding and cleaning myself.  there were no other obligations to satisfy and no duties to respond to.  the only Duty i had was to myself: to live as forthrightly and bravely as possible and to open my notebook whenever i could manage.

i haven't looked back at those pages yet.  i want to but instead i flip through the photos i took and enjoy the sweet fermentation of memory that has already begun.  the images of bridges and building in my mind are more romantic tonight than they have ever been.  Berlin is a city of fairy tales.  while i was there, i marveled at the great luck that had found me.  there was a moment when i found myself half asleep on the small deck of a rowboat and thought to myself is this really fucking happening right now??? to me???  it was all so inexplicable and yet somehow easy.  i felt at ease the second i got on my flight to new york.  i felt even more at ease when i landed in Berlin a week later.  i felt so secure and safe inside the world.  i wasn't afraid of anything.  not once.  it felt honest and good to simply walk along old cobblestone roads and take pictures of the fresh graffiti that cropped up overnight in Kreuzberg.  it felt honest and good to share my beer with strangers and follow them to a bonfire on the west bank of the Spree.  it felt honest and good to sit at a cafe for hours and just move my pen...  all my lofty thoughts and the rhythm of my heart inside this new place, this old world.
 
it's hard to believe that i'm already back home, already back to work, already learning a new menu and new wines.  it's hard to believe that another semester of german awaits and that it is already august.  3 weeks in europe was not long enough.  not nearly.  not for this soft and eager heart.  i fell in to the tempo of the place so quickly and felt at home so instantly that my life took on a feeling of timelessness.  then suddenly, i was back at the airport trying not to think of the fact that i was already leaving.  i'm glad i had a few days in new york before coming back home to california.  it was a buffer of sorts.  i could still pretend i was entirely free and that no timelines existed for me.  i saw the Ellen Gallagher show at the New Museum my first day back.  it was strange to walk through the large rooms and gaze at the work of an art heavy weight and think i'd just been at the Martin Kippenburger retrospective in Berlin 2 days before.  and in the rear room of that museum, i saw the large lead airplane Anselm Kieffer constructed flanked by two of his huge paintings.  it felt important and special to view his work IN germany.  so laden with guilt and history and horror.  it felt important and special to see Joseph Beuys' felt suit and violin case.  it felt important and special to view this work with a german friend.  and this all a few days after having visited the Anne Frank Haus in Amsterdam.  such a heavy moment.  such a heavy memory.  those empty rooms...  so small.  i felt honored, especially as a diarist, to walk through the rooms where she lived and wrote.  i felt honored to see the pages of her diary on display.  the pages, so thin and so fragile that the room must be kept very dimly lit in order to slow the rate of their degradation.  a man behind me started crying.  i wanted to cry too but i didn't because i don't think she allowed herself to cry in those rooms either. 

everything felt important and special.  everything. 

i have so much to say but it's all out of order.  it's all mixed up and crisscrossed.  maybe chronology doesn't really matter.

i thought when i got back i'd instantly start saving money in order to move to new york by the end of the year but now i can't think of anything more important than getting back out in the world and doing it all again.  and next time for much, much longer than 3 weeks.

everything is new

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20 hours of travel, a delayed flight, a diverted flight, sleeping on the floor of SFO as i waited for the first trains to begin running.  it was a long walk home that morning but i didn't mind.  it was the first time i'd put my earbuds in in a month.  i was the first time music had coursed through me in lock step with my fast-beating heart.  it was the first time in a month that i was able to lock in to myself, only myself, like masterbation, no one else, no distractions, no concerns, no muttering in the distance.  i had been outside myself for an entire month.  i had been in the wind, in the sun, within a language that floored me and made me its' servant.  gladly (gerne). i'd been so outside myself for an entire month that it seemed impossible to find myself walking along familiar roads.  a part of me was still in Berlin, crossing the Oberbaum Brucke, not crossing Shattuck Ave in Oakland, California.

as i came closer to my house, a dirty, discarded chair came in to view.  no cushions, abandonned on the side of the road.  "ahhh... a canvas..." i thought.  a canvas.  i didn't know how badly i needed one until i saw one.  i went inside and grabbed my big, black marker.  "yes.  perfection.  the first thing i will do upon arriving in oakland is write on the street", i told myself, "this is the only real beauty.  this is the only gesture i have."  i thought of my beloved bridge in Kreuzbeg and my heart ached something awful.  where had my endless waters gone?  i thought of David Wojnarowicz and his plea that we live life like it actually fucking matters.   i thought of his refrain.  i scrawled it quick in fat print:

yes i will.  i fucking promise.


it's so hard to believe a week has already gone by since i've been home.  there is so much to say...  it will come as it is able.

yesterday evening, i stood in my dark kitchen and watched a man cross the street to take a picture of the abandoned chair.  the sun obscured the image and he kicked the chair in a half circle there on the corner to get it out of the glare.   i watched him the entire time.  it was a moment of quiet happiness.  it was a moment of connection to another human being.  i have no idea what to label the work i do that happens in the street.  i very rarely think of it as ART.  or rather, ART isn't even the consideration.  i think of these things as Signs.  as a Cry.  it was wonderful to be able to witness my cry being heard.  not only heard, but echoed in the heart of another.  i felt unbelievably lucky.

i am happy to stretch out in my white room and see the reflection of my body flash in the armoir mirror.  i am happy to make coffee in my kitchen and spend the first 2 hours of the day scribbling in my diary.  i am happy to have a washer and drier at my disposal.  but i assure you, 3 weeks overseas was definitely not enough.  all my plans have changed. my ideas are totally shattered.  i have no answers and all of my goals have been flung far and wide. 

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the adventure is here

anne is taking me to the airport in a half hour. 

holy shit.


HOLY SHIT.





see you on the other side of this wild dream.

i love you. 

angela

happy

went out yarnbombing last night after a beautiful and fun dinner with my beautiful and fun friend Trish.  i love that we got to see each other before i take off on this adventure.  she is one of the most well-traveled, adventurous, insightful, and open people i have ever met.  i feel so blessed every time we hang out because i walk away so much richer with insight and perspective than i was before.  i picked her brain for travel advice and how tipping works in other countries.  i'm so looking forward to the food.  especially in france.  i will definitely eat snails and frog legs.  but more than anything, i'm looking forward to simply being in a foreign land.  simply sitting at a cafe and people-watching will be such a deep pleasure for me and so affective.  Trish said to be safe but not worry too much and just have fun.  i will do my very best to do just that.  she bought me two greyhounds at a bar we'd never been to before after dinner and then dropped me off at the corner of Claremont and Telegraph so i could install a few pieces on my walk home.  i've been trying to get every parking sign on the even numbered side of the street from the traffic light at Aileen to the light at 59th.  last night i reached my goal.  :)  it was important to me to get it done before leaving.  i walked slowly down Telegraph Ave and straightened the other bombs and even replaced the one someone snipped down as a souvenir.   i was sad to see one go missing but also complimented that someone out there likes the work so much they couldn't resist taking it.

 

this afternoon, i walked back to take photos of the work.  i decided to put on my travel bag, fully loaded, and see how heavy the thing really is.  after about a half hour, it felt pretty heavy.  Becca and i are going to get fucking buff, is what.  ha!  but it was such a privately romantic moment...  just walking down my city's streets with my bag on my back, dreaming of new york and paris, and berlin, and  photographing my work up in midst of all this oakland buzz and hustle.   it was a beautiful way to spend the afternoon.

the last few days have been exceptionally beautiful, actually.  i had dinner with Becca's mom the evening before and being around her is so emotionally and spiritually nourishing.  i think of her as Spiritual Food.  i truly do.  i leave feeling replenished and excited and driven to "be MORE myself" (always hearing your voice in my head these days, suzanne, encouraging me along).  we had goat cheese stuffed dates that were wrapped in bacon and they were unbelievable.  i can't even describe how delicious they were.  over dinner we talked and talked and talked about europe and how special it is that Becca and i are undertaking this together.  "i met your daughter almost 8 years ago in a color theory class and look at all the beautiful colors we've managed to bring to each other ever since." i said.  sentimental as fuck, yes!  but sentimentality has its place too and i'll never feel embarrassed of appreciating and loving another person.  not ever.  i am honored to have the opportunity to do so and to feel this way.  i'm lucky to have such amazing women in my life and i adore them something fierce.

and then last night after i got home from dropping all my bombs (6 in total last night), seth and i stayed up drinking (well, i drank anyway) and watching the final dance scene in Dirty Dancing over and over again.  i tried to learn the steps in the kitchen and quickly realized i need to hunt down a tutorial.   :)

watch this and try not to smile.  it's a piece of my childhood and makes me laugh joyfully like a child everytime i see this!

 

 :D

a run of beautiful days leading up to my departure.  i am so thankful for the beauty that swirls around and through my life.  hard to imagine how desperate and sad i once felt.  hard to believe that i was once convinced i was not capable of living this way.  i am astounded and endlessly grateful for the freedom i now enjoy.  endlessly endlessly endlessly.

the countdown begins...

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a mere 8 days stand between me and my adventure.  or maybe the adventure is (and has always been) well under way.  it is, in fact, the life that came before that has made me capable of living bravely now.  i am ecstatic and discombobulated and so entirely grateful.  my bag is packed and waiting.  i'm thankful that i have a few more days at work to keep me occupied and make a bit more money to throw around in new york and berlin.  otherwise, i'd just be a total basket-case right now pacing in the kitchen and waiting for the morning when i get to board my plane.  it's almost all i can think about at this point.  :)

i'll leave an hour early for work today to stop off and buy a red Kelly Bundy dress to wear during my travels.  i feel a red dress is absolutely necessary.  especially a tight one. :)  red lipstick is, of course, an undisputed travel requirement as well.  and this morning, Becca and i texted excitedly back and forth to each other about how inexplicable and wonderful and TOTALLY UNBELIEVABLE this whole thing is.  regardless of what happens, this will definitely be an eye-opening, life-changing event in both our lives and i feel so excited to be on the cusp of it.  excited and lucky.  

i can't believe this is my REAL life.  but it IS!  

the feeling of being Capable is one of the best feelings in the world.  it is my hope that, regardless of a woman's life or dreams, she feel Capable.  it is the very root of genuine happiness, courage, and self-respect. 

satisfaction is a wonderful feeling

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romance.


and last night while walking in the cold, cold wind in san francisco, i realized no one has ever provided for me as well as i provide for myself.  i must somehow allow myself at least a short moment to feel proud of myself and the life i am creating.  these dreams once seemed so far out of reach...  impossible to believe ever coming true.  here i am with a passport and plane tickets with my name on them.  BIG MIDDLE FINGER TO ALL THE PEOPLE WHO SAID MY GOALS WERE STUPID AND UNREALISTIC. 

smiling so big right now.  :D 


hahahahaaa!  and i cannot help but giggle to myself.  i know i still have 3 1/2 weeks to wait until i board my plane to New York but it's going to fly by and my excitement is building building building.  Becca and i will rendezvous at her favorite restaurant in the village 2 days before we get on another plane to Heathrow Airport.  i'm trying not to get misty eyed just thinking of it now.  i'm trying not to get too far ahead of myself.  i have absolutely no idea what to expect but i can't wait to grab my bag and let this adventure begin.  yesterday, i played tourist in SF and bought the bag i will live out of for a month.  bright yellow in honor of my long lost Bumble Bug.  i loved that little car so much but the life that awaits is one in which owning a car is totally unnecessary.  it's unnecessary now.  i love that i live in such a way that allows me to enjoy the romance of riding trains daily.  and aside from which, me and my converse get around just fine.   ;) 

artist life.

HOLY SHIT!

anti-solace

let me crawl back under my rock now.  let me crawl back to where i came from.  my coils of black wool and ink, graphite dust stuck to my feet, smudged across my face, empty bleeding heart dragging its ugly shape and shame across the page.  the inches are horrible.  each scratch of the pen, an agony.  each inch of wool twisted into knots, a horror.  but it is the only repair that has ever worked.  it is the only repair i trust, the only truth i know.  i bring my two hands back to myself.  at least for a time.  at least until i can see straight.  no longer interested in reaching toward the world, toward unknown doors.  at least not until it is time to pack a bag.  i see now that what i've been accused of is true.  i talk too good a game.  i take pictures of myself wearing a cap that says SLUT across the front and everyone automatically believes it.  they see my red lips and how seldom i become upset.  they see how independent i am and somehow, inexplicably to me, confuse me with being cold. i am not cold.  nowhere close.  my brashness is a moral responsibility to my own life...  to live as fully and as wholly as i can manage.  but i am not callous and i am not flagrant and i am not without compass or standard.


but fuck it.  what do i know?  i don't know a damn thing.  it's why i want to live.  in order to find out.  something.  anything. and it could quite easily be that it's my mirror that shines askew.

 

what is it about me that makes people seem to believe that i have no feelings?

i've cried three times this week.  everyday, for 3 days running, a small horror found me.  and even in the moment i told myself to feel blessed and lucky because i haven't had a bad run of luck or days of pain in so long it seems.  everything has been going pretty well.  no major complaints.  but i could feel it all along brewing in the background, simmering below my naive feet.  i've expected it for quite some time now that my brashness, my good game would lead directly to the wind being knocked out of me.  i've been going against my better judgement in certain ways because i just became so damn tired of loneliness.  i became so tired, painfully tired, of not allowing myself to know the world and to know other humans.  but i knew it was coming.  i knew i would wake up, humiliated and stupefied, and feel the urge to run away from the life i have here in Oakland.  and  maybe it's necessary?  maybe it's the kick i need?  i have wondered while crying if i should try to feel thankful for this pain...  it untethers me, afterall.  there is no longer any reason to drag my feet.  there are no anvils around my neck.  there are no gentle hands to lay me down and smooth my hair back across my forehead. 

i wake up this morning and a Great Goodness finds me...

baby's first passport arrived in today's mail.  i kissed it and kissed it and wanted to cry.  it is sitting next to me on my bed right this minute.  it is a gem.  it is my most sacred, most valued, most loved possession.  today, it trumps every piece of art i own.  everything pales in comparison to this little book: a testament to faith and struggle and belief.

in 4 weeks i'll be back in my beloved NYC for a few days before hoping on a plane and heading to europe for the very first time.  my very first trip over seas.  i am beside myself.  i can't find the words.  i'll find them in europe, i suppose! ha!  Becca and i stop in London for a night and then the next evening, on the 4th of July, our Independence day (and the 1 year anniversary of when i had my passport photo taken), we fly into Berlin.   a few days later, we will take a train from Berlin to Paris to see our beloved Rammstein play in Nancy, France.  after that?  hahahaaa!  there is absolutely no way to know!  but when (if?) i return, i fly back to new york for a few days before heading back to Oakland.  i'm sure i'll spend the first few days back crying, forlorn and lonely and in total anguish, in my bed before having to tie the apron around my waist once more, put on my bright lipstick, and tell jokes table-side.

i am lucky in that i will have a job to return to.  i am lucky in that i like my job.  i enjoy being around people and i am very good at creating an atmosphere of warmth and ease.  i'm good at being a waiter and, come July, it is a profession that will take me around the world.  well, at least half way.  :)  but i'm telling you, these next 4 weeks cannot go by fast enough.  the passed two days i have been crawling out of my skin.  i have never wanted to hop on a plane so badly in my entire life.

i am not afraid of knowing the world.  i am afraid of NOT knowing it.  i am not afraid of people, not even if i know i will suffer as a result.  i am more afraid of dying without ever having known what real love is.  i can tell you, right now, that i do not believe i have ever experienced it.  not on the receiving end anyway.  not a healthy love.  it seems definitions for love run the gamut and i am a dunce trying to figure out what the fuck i'm supposed to be doing and saying in the midst of it.


i'm supposed to be making art in the midst of it.
i'm supposed to be writing.


at very least, i know what my life is for.

whatever you do, don't pinch me

at a quarter to 2 in the morning, we pulled the trigger. we bought our tickets to Europe.  Becca and i are going to Berlin.  7 weeks to wait.

my mind bends in half at the thought of this. i can't believe i have a ticket with my name on it that will take me all the way to Germany.  i am stunned when i think of it.  it can't possibly be real but IT IS REAL. 

holy shit! hahahahaaaaa!  

today i was all in a frenzy: studying and cleaning and filling a box with clothes and objects i no longer want which will be left on the street in front of the house.  something has changed in my life and within my being already and i haven't even gone anywhere yet.  simply buying the ticket and accepting the massive and beautiful reality that i am finally going to travel to Europe changes so much.  my being is a strange mix of such a deep calm and tremendous excitement.  i have no clue what to even say!  i have no clue what to think!  i'm just going to work on a yarn bomb and have a cocktail and watch "Wings of Desire".  ha! 

the voodoo that you do so well

i am wiped out.  5 days in new york is a whirlwind experience.  especially when things like swizzels and pickle backs are involved.  good lord.  my liver must hate me...  but my diary sure loves me.  ;)  there are tons of things i will write about but i think they're better off confined to the nebulous curves of poetry and prose than a blog post.  at least for now. besides, i'm still trying to re-acclimate to being home.  this time around, i was actually ready to come back to oakland.  i wanted my own bed and my friends and my music.  i wanted more than two pairs of pants and two tshirts.   i wanted to sit for a minute and write.  i really have gotten to a place where if i go for more than a day or two without writing i begin to feel very anxious, very displaced.  i need the slip of ink to reel me back in to the Here and Now.  words hold me in place.  they hold me together.  it isn't enough to take pictures.  i need a deeper sort of record.  i need a place where i can roll around with my experiences.  i need the license of poetry, the lens of art and romance, the flex and freedom of language itself.  on my last night in new york i finally got to sit and write for a beautiful hour and a half inside a diner in the Bowery.  i had fish and chips and a pina colada for dinner but ordering food was really just a smoke screen for claiming a warm place to scribble.  it was so cold that night.  the air was frozen and it shot right through the front of my jeans to sting my thighs horribly.  i am not used to a little thing known as the wind-chill factor.  california doesn't have that shit.  not even close.  and that shit is real.  not just real, but really ridiculous.  it can basically make an otherwise pleasant evening feel like the 7th circle of hell.  several new yorkers laughed at me for my reaction to the cold.  apparently, it was warm there for this time of year.  hooooollllly moley!    it doesn't necessarily curb my desire to live there though, i'll just need a better wardrobe.  my leather jacket wasn't the best foil to such weather.  i was ill-prepared at best.  my return trip did work to cure me of my love-sickness for New York though and i am thankful for that.  i was so heart broken after coming home last time.  this time, i cruised the streets less frantically and with far less need to hunt down a reckoning.  i felt at ease this time.  i knew that i could come back and would come back.  i knew that it isn't as hard as people make it seem.  an inexplicable thing happened:  i ran in to a girl i went to art-school with in this tiny tiki bar called Otto's Shrunken Head in the Lower East Side.  she moved to Brooklyn a year ago and just so happened to shoot over to the city that night.  i walked in the bar and heard someone call my name and it wasn't my friend anne.  fucking wild!  she and i had studios right across the hall from each other in school!  small weird world!  and anne and i had just been stumbling around directionless in Brooklyn earlier than day!  we watched a musical tribute to Queen and drank pina coladas and ate voodoo chips at the bar.  in fact, it was these particular pina coladas that got me to order a pina colada at the diner in the Bowery.  i haven't had one in years but something about the chill in the air and being with a great friend in New York City and feeling completely at rest, completely free and festive made ordering such a drink make perfect sense.  as a child i used to always order virgin pina coladas whenever my family would go out to a restaurant for dinner.  it wasn't that often so the drink seemed so special to me.  it felt right to revisit that feeling in New York.

 pina coladas

 voodoo chips

drunken bathroom portrait photography

oh dang!

i just bought my very first plane ticket to new york.  i feel shaky in such a happy way.  the way one feels after a first kiss.  i have no clue what to do with myself.  i will be counting the days.  this is my birthday present to myself.  september will be here before i know it.  summer is already half over.  in a few weeks i'll be back in class studying german and the history of photography.  there are books i need to buy and a new schedule to devise. i'm looking forward to getting back in to the swing of things, the rhythm of study and solitude.  i haven't studied at all to the degree i would've liked to this summer.  the last few months have been such a wild blurr of transition and change.  i work late and stay out dancing even later.  sometimes all i want to do is dance, sweat and sing and drink greyhounds.  i decided this morning to simply enjoy the freedom that the summer months provide and feel grateful for receiving the life of a waiter.  we have such a fun time.  we have such a high degree of freedom and flexibility.  i have no idea where i will be a year from now but i plan to travel as much as i possibly can from here on out.  if i died tomorrow my big regret would be not having seen the world.  i have a month and a half to save for my trip and even though i'll only be in NY for four days i plan to live as fully as i possibly can during that time.   please feel free to send me lists of places to eat.  i will be dining out every night and every morning.  and definitely let me know where a girl can dance the night away.

my previous life remains tucked away safely in a storage unit.  i miss certain books but i like it this way-  things filed away in a tiny room that i never visit.  i think i'll keep the unit through to the end of the year.  i am busy with the pleasure of discovery and the work of rebuilding.  i like having a space free of the old objects, the previous obsessions.  i miss certain drawings but i need to make new ones.  i need to remain ungoverned and untethered.  i am scared sometimes and have no idea what to do with myself, what to do next, what direction to pursue... and so i write in my diary and go out dancing and try not to worry too much about the future.   art begets art, and so i know exactly what i will spend my life doing.  my work will never reach its end until i reach mine.

honeys! i'm hoooo-ooome!

it took 3 hours and 45 minutes to get to the nashville airport yesterday morning. i have never seen such crazy weather in my entire life! it looked like the pictures of alaska i've seen. the highways had not been plowed or salted AT ALL. and there were jack-knifed big rigs every where and cars sliding off in to the countryside and you couldn't even SEE the highway. it was completely iced over and we had to make our own lanes, most of which weren't even close to being right, and at one point we were parked on the freeway for almost an hour because 3 big rigs had turned over and me and my mom got out and talked to the nice truckers who always know what's going on... though one guy told us you can't believe everything you hear on the CB because the story gets bigger and bigger as it travels down the line. ha! and then my flight was delayed (which was good since we were running a bit late and i thought i'd miss it actually) and so when i got to LAX to change planes, i got off my first plane as the second one was boarding so i literally walked off one plane on to another and i'm so surprised my suitcase made it. by the time i landed, i had been on an airplane for 6 hours. add that to the 4 hour trip to the airport and the hour and a half drive back to my little cottage and i had an entire day of travel. geez. but it's always fun. and thanks to the time change coming home, i'm pretty much back to my regularly scheduled program. :) i've got my hazelnut coffee and my sweetie is still snoozing away and i've already written in my notebook and inga is on her first nap of the day.

i feel happy and quiet and soft. the two weeks with my mom made me feel so thankful for so many things. i let go of a lot of things from the past. a few ghosts floated off and i feel peaceful and easy and grateful for what my life has been... and for who i am becoming as a result. my mom is good at softness, at generosity of spirit, at acceptance and forgiveness. she knows the value of really, truly being who you are and working to become better but never hiding yourself from the world or from others. she is wise and beautiful and i feel so blessed to have had her all to myself for two whole weeks. i'll be heading back out to tennessee in a couple months for round 2.

my bags are still in the car. i was much too tired to even care by the time we got home last night. and i hope to have sunday dinner with the neighbors tonight. there is silliness to be had and to propagate. :)

it's drizzling and silent and wonderful. my paintings look beautiful to me. beautiful AND smart. my eyes are clear and full of play again. i love everything.

safe

there is a lady bug on the wall. a big fat one. and i won't smash him or put him outside. it makes me happy he is here. my little pet for today.

tennessee is beautiful. most of the leaves are off the trees but it's still so green somehow. and quiet. silent, really, out here in the country. the houses that spring up are red brick with white trim. is that called 'colonial"?

and my grandma and grandpa came today with a big baked chicken and stuffing and pies and brownies and all sorts of stories that everyone's already heard a dozen times but me and so i laughed and laughed and laughed. stories about the 6 deer that come through their yard and stories about ravens playing with shiny things on the porch. wholesome and good stories like that.

i feel instantly at home even though i've never been here before. i've already learned the kitchen and what's in all the cupboards. i've got my own room to sleep in that (YAY!) has a computer in it! i've got my books from home stacked up against the wall. last night when i got to the house, my mom and i talked about fairy tales and about Alice in Wonderland and she gave me a large, old copy of the story from the 40s, fully-illustrated, and printed on soft paper from italy. a sewn binding and all. she found it in a thrift store out here for a dollar. treasure.

right now the house is quiet. nap time. and so i will write and maybe work up the nerve to go jog in these foreign woods, maybe paint a small watercolor, maybe just sit on the back porch and admire the things that grow here and the hundred birds that swirl here.

good morning!

i'm leaving in less than an hour. i'm drinking coffee and "Big Yellow Taxi" is stuck in my head. ha! just a bit dramatic. hahahahaha!

a new adventure awaits. i've got my notebook and blank pages and faithful ink.

enjoy this wonderful, beautiful day, my friends. :)

packing...

would you like to know how neurotic i am?

i've gotten the majority of my packing done... or so i thought until it came time to choose books. there are certain books that follow a person around no matter where they go and no matter if they will actually read them. they are constant companions. they are part of a person's life. i am in the thick of stupidity and choice right now. who shall i bring along for the ride? it's only two weeks but it's TWO WEEKS! 'radish king' and 'cadaver dogs' by rebecca loudon are on board. also 'ariel' by sylvia plath. my collection of hans christian andersen and a big fat book of kiki smith's work. and 'alice's adventures in wonderland' and the collected short stories and fairy tales of angela carter. but then i saw sharon olds and grabbed 'satan says', 'the gold cell', and 'the dead and the living'. and then i saw molly gaudry's 'we take me apart'. and then i saw 'the baker's daughter' and my big collection of zines and chapbooks and started thinking about the clothes i could do without and that's when i realized i am so neurotic and romantic that i should just take a break and come back to it later. but there isn't all that much time to decide. i'm leaving at 6 in the morning tomorrow and, really, it's just two weeks but IT'S TWO WEEKS! arggggggggg. books.

plans

today is a day for doing the laundry and washing the dishes. i'm making my preparations for my trip out to tennessee. clean underwear and that whole bit. i have to decide what books to take, what projects to bring on the plane, a whole wealth of little things to decide upon. tomorrow is pay day and i need a few tubes of gouache and a big tube to transport big paper in. i need to buy that anti-flea juice for inga so that it's here while i'm gone. one less errand for my sweetie to run. and then of course there's the problem of fashion- a whole different climate. word on the phone-line is that it is cold, cold, cold out there. some snow on the ground too. my sequined shoes are not optimal. maybe this is my excuse to go ahead and buy those yellow rubber rain boots i've so desired for so so long. :) and i am printing out the photo references i'll need and font patterns for cross-stitching and poems i need to keep working on. i'll be gone two weeks and i leave in two days, bright and early sunday morning. it's hard to know what i'll need. and i haven't been away from my sweetheart for so long in years and i've never been away from my baby girl dog like this. but i'm bringing my running shoes and will use the old pick-up truck to trip a mile so i can run run run and keep track of the distance and keep track of my focus and keep a high, bright spirit. my trusty hot pink sports bra is tumbling around in the dryer as we speak. i'm very much looking forward to waking up to my mama and morning coffee and conversation and an icy landscape. i'm looking forward to taking pictures, a practice i've not taken part in really for a couple years ever since reading susan sontag. ha! maybe i'll buy some black and white ilford for my minolta while i'm at it. and tonight at 9, i'll be shutting my shop down so if there's anything in there that is a must-have, grab it now and i'll ship it tomorrow. and there are checks to write and stuff in envelopes and stamps to put on those envelopes. prepare, prepare, prepare. i don't want any nagging thoughts or worries of things i forgot to take care of while i'm away.