Je cherche les mots.
Made a hand out of tape today.
Estimated purpose of not blow drying hair.
Thought about woods.
Plan to sleep in the woods. To sleep in the Woods, but not just any woods. The big, scary, woods
Read a paragraph of a book I've been finishing for months (2).
Decided to wear meaningful bracelets again.
Set alarm three (3) times.
Tattoo is working, and will be done soon.
Wish to be dreaming epic and hilarious things.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
The link will take you to the blurry documentation album.
Note: The beautiful photos from above are not available on facebook, only here, you lucky person.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
If you are interested in hearing a song about slappin' hands and sharin' pants come to the next Communion at my house on Saturday. I hope you can make it partner!
Friday, January 9, 2009
Every time I say "albuquerque" in my head I pronounce it like a huge handful of syllables. My return to Albuquerque has been like a return home. Wow. Isn't that a big stone to drop in a small sentence. But it feels like a return to home because all of my things are here, and my job is here, and my concentric circles of knowing the city are ever widening. As we flew into Albuquerque I recognized my tall buildings. The ones that are lit up green and purple, the empty ones, the ones that mark the border of downtown. Really the ones a couple of blocks from my house. "Wow! I thought as I flew over, that's where I live!" Then the Albuquerque air was incredibly clear and cold, and that was such a relief somehow. I opened my door, the one in my room to look at the stars and breathe the air. Then I closed it and went to sleep.
I've been looking at everything more closely for the last couple of days and I've found: a small secret red door that leads to the fireplace, a high flying bird of the sort that I was certain only lived in Oregon, and several small round holes tucked high into the stucco of our house that might be birds nests! New, new new!
When I was in middle school I wrote a Jane Austen type novel. It's very short, and not very good. I read half of it last night as I floated off to sleep. I would love to give you, the "reader" the gist of it:
"Society was one of his favorite things"
"The man never tired of pursuing friendships, or in this case was it romance?"
"Their faces became full of light when pronounced man and wife"
"Duke Elliot took a seat at the end of the room, much as a slug would, very slowly and with a painfully disinterested look."
"her beauty was as great as ever, and he was utterly lost from it's benefits by her continued indifference."
I am thinking that I will take this poor little book in like a half drowned bird and I will nurse it until it is absolutely chock full of hilarious and ridiculous metaphores! Then I will let it fly away and please everyone that reads it.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The airport is one of the strangest environments I know of. While I am in it I am only slightly aware that the airport I'm in is actually located somewhere. There are little clues that indicate you are in Oregon (posters advertising Leatherman knives over the baggage claim) or Arizona (desert themed restauraunts) but in general you are always more in a nowhere-mall than anywhere else. Right now I am at a "mall" in Sacramento. I am watching the news, listening to elevator jazz, drinking starbucks, blogging on WiFi, eating trail mix, and waiting for my flight simultaneously. I feel like an American.
At the beginning of my journey I posted a few photos of me at the airport watching CNN and sitting at the kiddie table. Now at the other end of my journey I am posting a couple of new photos. I look a little unkempt after my harrowing adventures in Oregon!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Documentation of my Blog Installation in the Gallery Portion of I Love You Here Is What I Made, (Jan 2, 2009)
Amy: Our curation contact at Briscoe, who also used to work at the Craft Center, where I used to work, at a different time.
We watch as someone talks for a while in front of his or her art.