Forward and Towards

Several feet above the ground.

2012-01-09T22:14:00.003-07:00

Lift off.

I am overflowing with self expression. My floor is flooded with all the things I have ever tried to say. And the back of my spine, well, it's trying to remember where I shelved the books. Was it the 5th vertebrae, or in the attic under the lamp with the long orange extension chord?

In trying to examine the logistics of this sudden flood in relation to the history of critical drought I find myself creaking to such a stop. I think of kindling (all the pieces and ideas and thoughts that are pulling towards the same ecstatic fire) and I think of the breath that breaks them into flame (I have been drawing in breath for ever so long). It's almost as if I have stopped.

Is it like the series of photographs above? I wanted to keep going up and up and up. But there was a limit to my gravity-less-ness. I need something to hang on to. To convince you.

And maybe that's when the fire will start. The books will never be found, but they'll start to own their own space like a magnet or dark matter. An invisible weight. It cannot be explained but suddenly ---Ah!

self portrait

2011-12-19T13:55:00.002-07:00

It's all happening.

2011-12-19T13:48:00.001-07:00

Song, fire, fortitude. Resilience... Tacos. All in a days work. Amen

whawhawhite...sand

2011-10-06T20:11:00.002-07:00

Milch de la Maquina!

2011-09-07T18:21:00.001-07:00

Things I've been meaning to do for some time now: Part 3

2011-08-23T18:05:00.000-07:00

Skydiver (TDFSTN Part 2)

2011-08-18T23:23:00.002-07:00

Things I've meant to do for a while now, part 1.

2011-08-15T09:57:00.001-07:00

Stealing the Saw

2011-06-10T16:45:00.005-07:00

There have been many many months of nothing. Not nothing, per se. But nothing to say. Nothing to say to you. And now in the tiny ancient steps of a little old woman, slowly and discretely stepping the steps of a very slow floor polisher, I feel something.

Something under my feet. Something to be polished. Polished off, and replaced with action. Nourishment. Assimilation and alchemy.

The thing is, that in a children's book, you can't have him steal the saw.

Secret Time

2011-05-01T23:59:00.002-07:00

It's 11:46, but I don't get that strange hopeful feeling I used to get at 11:46, or maybe it's later that that feeling starts. 2 or 3 am. It's the feeling of being up when no one else is and secretly doing important things.

You probably do something you wouldn't think of, you become incredibly intent.

I remember waking up before dawn, walking into a dim room and realizing I am the only one awake. I could do anything, and, discongruently, that feeling of all possibility ground down to a clear point of certain action. I take this newspaper, unfold it, refold it and put it back on the fireplace. There, relief. Because anything has been achieved. I follow my feet down the carpeted hall back to bed.

And once, late, late! The hours have passed and passed. I am inventing in a gallery with Bethany. I have observed our work as the hours passed and now at 3 in the morning I get the feeling of "secret time." Although I am not alone, it is late enough that I am alone regardless. The certainty of action I feel (that anything turned into something clear and necessary) distills a story that I write down. This story is intentional work that becomes apparent all on it's own. Because of it's natural ascension no listing or forcing parts is required. It is not hard work, it's of my soul. It requires me and I require it.

Like a red letter on a silver tray.

I have been eating...

2010-11-13T08:50:00.009-07:00

...quite a lot of spinach. Right now I'm at the coffee shop called Winning eating more of the spinach and drinking my second cup of coffee in two weeks. I am sitting by the succulents and spikulents in the windowulents. It is my second favorite table, it is small and round with two small round chairs.

Art

I am going to put up art in here in March! March.
I am going to Oregon in December. December!
It is November, November? November.

It is November

I feel no need to give anyone any advice. Sometimes someone will present a problem like "I can't eat gluten" and I will think of several things that don't have gluten in them and happily list them over several months. "eggs!... dandy blend!... this cookie!" But it's not really advice. You are not required to eat any of these things.

"You are not required to eat any of these things"

These are some things I overheard: "the Haitian sensation!" "the Rio Grande clams!" These are some things from a really lovely evening: shocking windows, a few goosebumps, arnica, sequins under swaying lights, flows following folds flocking, and warmth finally. And falling asleep.

the Haitian Sensation.

My roommate Stephen Perry is about

2010-10-02T18:53:00.003-07:00

to go on tour...

(this is the creepy image I made him for a t-shirt). Hope he uses it!

Happiness

2010-09-22T10:00:00.005-07:00

My time with Americorps is over. It is sad in a reminiscent way but now I can lobby again, and make enough money not to qualify for food stamps... exciting times! I've stumbled into two new jobs, and although I searched fruitlessly and anxiously for months prior to finding them nothing could have been easier or more pleasant than the stumbling that happened just as my Americorps term came to an end.

With my first employer I share a name, a hometown, a birthday and the characteristic of having unusually bumpy thumbnails-- I believe that these coincidences helped me get the job at the herb store, that and my blind confidence.

For my second job I answered a craigslist add that described my skills with ridiculous precision. The one odd skill was "willingness to learn to handle a variety of animals, and show them to other people." The advertisement--although exact, never said just what the job was. I was asked for an interview and directed to the zoo. My interview was conducted amidst peacocks. I interpreted this as a good sign. I was asked back for a second interview and then offered the job-- which I now know is to travel around to schools in Albuquerque in a van that converts into a miniature museum (complete with plants and animals) that describes the ecosystems through which the Rio Grande travels. My particular responsibilities are to create and administer fun art projects.

So, Americorps has ended and new times are beginning in the desert. Just now it is raining and I am glad.

"J"

2010-08-31T12:11:00.004-07:00

If we build it they will play

2010-07-16T09:43:00.002-07:00

My house is made of sheet.

Bethany's house is made of cloud.

This keeps us going the right direction.

Coins In the Bean Jar

2010-07-16T02:50:00.004-07:00

The Gallery is getting better, Bethany keeps talking to herself, telling herself to go to bed. I am tuned into the stories on This American Lift. (ha! Life) The door is so beautiful.

There are sheets stretched between the trees. It's 3:51.
If I have time
I'll keep coins in a bean jar.

CC

P.s> am tucked into fort. Ready to sleep a little while

Places to Go to Bed.

2010-07-12T20:46:00.006-07:00

This is a nice place to go to bed. It's walls are thin, but comfortingly pink, and the ceiling only reaches about 4.5 ft high which cozies the ambiance. There is a lamp. The pillows blankets and sleeping bags make the cold hard gallery floor into a lumpy, soft and warm floor.

This attractive fort/tent situation can usually be found in once abandoned buildings now being converted into something else. This particular fort was surrounded by giant chunks of missing floor, dust, and strange items. But within its walls one finds the contents normally reserved for the insides of houses. A very good place to sleep.

PROPAGANDA of My Friends!

2010-07-11T18:41:00.002-07:00

My friends will be found this Friday in the John Sommers gallery --the subject of posters with Propagandish tendancies. I can't wait.

On pillows, in the fort.

2010-07-11T10:43:00.004-07:00

ASLEEP IN THE GALLERY THIS MORNING, I HAD THIS DREAM. CLICK ON THIS TEXT.

Hoboculous Twinius Galerius

2010-07-11T00:13:00.000-07:00

To further the purposes of living in buildings that are not your house Bethany and I are building forts inside of a gallery.

My first fort is complete. It is in the south corner of the room, cloth walls strung up with yarn and nails. There is a blanket covering the tiles of the gallery and my sleeping bag is sitting by the lamp. Sarah Daegling, are you reading this?
-sheets and lamps in galleries forever!!!

Bethany constructs a fort in the North corner of our new home. She's stapled a tarp to the wall and is taking measurements for cardboard.

We are a new species: Hoboculous Twinius Galerius: The conjoined unit, now homeless entity, building it's tents in a gallery.

They gave us special permission to sleep in the gallery for two nights, but lock the doors to the rest of the building so the homeless won't come in. This means that only one of us may leave the building at a time, and the other must stay within. In order to pursue our shared purpose of art-making we must operate now as two parts of one being: each dependant on the other: the twinius.

Being this collective-animal we lose our separateness: time and space we could take as an individual functioner is unavailable to those who must operate within a certain radius of each other. Therefore the houses we call "home" cease to be places we can abide at this moment in time, we become homeless or, hoboculous.

Finally, our particular state of hoboculom twiniism only fully exists because of the conditions of this gallery which is why we belong to the particular genus of Galerius.

I have to delete the butts

2010-06-28T12:41:00.002-07:00

I am sitting at Brickyard pizza sipping slowly on a second beer. I have been looking for work like a pinata looking for candy: that is anywhere except within. (Do pinata's look within?). But recently something shifted and I decided to enjoy myself a lot more. Therefore I began a different job search which was instigated by the creation of a magic spell which I wrote on three bright pieces of paper, blessed with water, a found marble and a rock I got from a friend found at the junction of a river and the ocean. I also dressed in pink (an outfit I am still wearing now (24 hours later)). Thus prepared I got on my bike and personally began an investigation of three places I would love to work in Albuquerque.

At this point I am aware that whatever other actions I take in my search for a job in Albuquerque (by September 1st!) the job is now taking care of itself. Each enthusiastic word, bike ride, old lady I talk to, plum I eat in the interest of the job will help me, but I may have no idea what is really happening until it's all fallen together--- candy piled on the metaphorical ground that is my life.

In this cosmic state of job searching I have begun sifting through craigslist by searching for words like "beautiful" and "soul." I found an interesting opportunity that I responded to using this method, and wanted to attach a link to my blog when I realized that one of my most recent posts contains a picture of two butts.

Saw See Saw

2010-06-17T14:00:00.000-07:00

I'm illustrating a book for my friend Richard, who is terribly clever.

Waiting with Legs

2010-06-01T09:47:00.010-07:00

Aloha!

Waiting at the Kona open air airport. Me, flouner (found flower), and night.

What hour is this in the hours of travel? The eleventh? I have returned to the mainland, Mahalo U.S. Airways. But now but one-hour-flight-away from home the plane's rudder malfunctions and I find myself seated on the carpet of the Phoenix airport.

The carpet of the phoenix airport:

It looks like planes poised precariously in the midst of a thousand simultaneous tornadoes--- Or maybe the planes were hurled into a giant pond. The ripples in each of their wakes only block them briefly from smashing into each other.

So anyways, I'm seated here on disaster carpeting, drinking my Cinnabon coffee, hoping I get to Albuquerque in time to play a show. Is this how the Beatles felt? Did their plane rudder ever malfunction. I'm calling it a rudder, but maybe it's not called that.

In any case airplanes are a lot like boats. I was on a kayak yesterday in the pacific ocean. Green water everywhere, forever. Sometimes I got tired of rowing and watched the green hills of water lift me higher than the shore, then the hill would roll past and I'd be below it watching the shore retreat further every time. I panicked a little thinking I might be pulled out to sea. I would float, but I would be so thirsty and dizzy.

With this in mind I used the paddle again trying to pull a little in the direction I wanted to go. It seemed ridiculous pulling myself along the surface of the such a huge animal as the ocean. Like a mite making slow progress across the hairs of a running cat. But I did get to shore, and rode the last wave in like a roller coaster. Oh! Wahoo!

The sea near Waimanalo, O'ahu (renamed: Oh! Wahoo!) out of the car window. It was this turquoise sea that coaxed me silently out farther and farther from the shore.

I began this journey last night at 8 0'clock. I flew from Honolulu to Kona, and spent the next six hours sleeping fitfully between a soldier-type with a huge bull tattooed on his thigh, and a tiny coughing Japanese woman.

I woke up again and again: my head was rolling around in that horrible way it does on the plane or in a morning lecture. My knees felt like they'd been banging into things. My eyes closed compulsively. I had tiny dreams of my nephews' and niece's mouths. They have funny round mouths filling up with teeth and words. They were the most amazing funny thing in Hawaii for sure.

My mouth tries to be as funny.

An hour has passed since the last announcement. No news is good news, but in this case, no news is simply no news. New news would be nice. I'd like new nice news now, or nearly now. I'm negotiating finding another coffee shop. Negotiating with my legs.

Me: "Legs. If you stand up you can go look for coffee." said in a wheedling voice,

Legs: "But our knees hurt inexplicably and you don't even know where the sweet sweet coffee is!"

Me: "I'll give you two dollars!"

Legs: "That's a trick! It will still be your two dollars"

Me: "True true, clever legs..."

Legs: "yip."

Me: "You hear that legs? Yeah, that's right, another hour, at least. We might need that coffee."

Legs: "...or something a little stronger."

TO BE CONTINUED...

(2 minutes later)
Me: "Wait! Legs! oho! There's a new aircraft! Gate B5! Gate B5!"

Cinco de Communion

2010-05-25T14:03:00.005-07:00

WE'RE ALL MY BROTHER.

2010-05-23T20:59:00.003-07:00

We all put on Davids sweaters and Jackets that were lying in the crates he was leaving behind. David was wearing a lace Santa cap with pink fur around the edge and on the top. Sarah and I made it for him one Christmas. I was surprised he'd kept it until this point. Now it had filtered out of the dregs and he put it on his head.

David took a picture of us standing in his clothes, he cropped the heads like a thumb blocking them. We tried to stand like he stands, then we sat like ourselves in the rubble of his leaving. A type writer without a ribbon, ink spots on the floor, a spool of film marked "return to Lorraine Rene Cook," some white shoes without laces, sheets, a pile of clothes.

David asked if we'd follow him around the house, in a line, while he pushed smoke into every corner with a smudge stick. We agreed and followed him from corner to corner. He danced walked, I laughed. He was still wearing the lace hat.

We followed David outside of the house to porch by my window. David turned and smudged each of us with the smoke. He smeared cedar on each forehead. "Cedar to protect against evil" he murmured. He put the burning smudge into a ceramic pot waiting on the brick then threw the whole thing at a rock post supporting the roof. It shattered and the pieces fell.

We helped him carry his bags out to the car. He hugged us each goodbye and left to spend the night in the airport.

Adam Hooks

2010-05-03T17:46:00.006-07:00

Musician

2010-04-19T15:49:00.006-07:00

I made a myspace for the songs I record on my computer! SUPER low-fi, almost finished, but not always, singing in harmony with my self -sometimes singing in disharmony with myself. Hallways, birds, and fans (the whirring kind) in the background. I'll change em' up periodically.

Check out the tracks at

http://www.myspace.com/christyjoycook

(the audience at a show played by the Albuquerque Boys Choir)

Hands Down!

2010-04-07T20:24:00.007-07:00

This is spring. It was slowly rolling out the end of the tube (in bubbling -sinking tones notes stone son(n)et) into the dark blue ditch full of evening. The surface of the moon was angling sharply up at the sky. Cool wind blew night out of its corners --from around the roots of the scraggle plants

now it's wandering in and out of cherry blossoms
stinking the day with cherry blossoms

Warm rooms become hot rooms, the pulse rises, the trees breathe out thin green wire lungs in clumps, or are gripped with seeds
time is measured by naps or warm days between snowfalls,

hands down, it's spring,
hands up, it's spring!

Richard Simmons shorts make appearances every half an hour, I froze my toes snow hiking the day before Easter, and we found where they keep the heat lamps in the biology building.

Taking Walks and Talking Out Loud.

2010-03-30T21:10:00.003-07:00

March Communion, Tube and Smiles

2010-03-24T06:39:00.003-07:00

Yellow Ducks

What started as an elevator dance party and ended up as and an underwear roof dance party

2010-02-23T22:06:00.002-07:00

The Excellent Adventures of My Bicycle

2010-02-16T16:50:00.008-07:00

This bicycle wants to be my bicycle. That's the only way to explain it. The week I arrived in Albuquerque I found it at a garage sale for $25. I bought it because I could afford it and it was a perfect fit. I got it some pumped up tires, brakes that functioned, a helmet and a lock. Set!

Me and my bicycle spent a lot of happy time together, learning to bike up hills, going to work, zipping around the unpaved paths by the river both of us praying that all the goat-heads would decide to leave the tires un-punctured (on that topic: praying seems to be an adequate way of avoiding goat-heads. I've had only one tire punctured and I think it was time for that tire to go anyways. I wouldn't recommend the same tactic as birth control). Oh yes, we really enjoyed all of the adventures that Albuquerque could offer.

Bike Portrait No. 1

But since Albuquerque is sort of a wide place, like other towns in America, we would sometimes take the bus together too. It was on one such day when I had my first parental pang of absolute loss. Let me start at the beginning. It was an ordinary day. I'd decided to take the bus to work and bike home later. I perched my bicycle on the rack of the bus and admired it. My bike is a pretty bike. It's hipsterishly slim, blue, and has nice curved handle bars. It's heavier than it looks, but that's all I care about --looks.
"I really like my bike" I thought contentedly, then I got on the bus. On the way I noticed a woman I knew from work sitting near the front, "I should probably talk to her" I thought. I moved nearer to her and we had a nice conversation that continued as we got off the bus at the same stop. About 15 minutes later, while making a photo copy I realized my horrible mistake. I had as much as left my child strapped to the front of an Albuquerque bus!

Horrified I rushed outside, hyperventilating and yammering to the man on the phone at the Albuquerque hot line. He informed me that since I'd just gotten on the bus 15 minutes ago the same bus would be coming by in about 10 minutes. I should wait at the same stop and see if my bike came back around.

"But can't you radio the bus driver and let him know I'm here waiting for the bike, and not to let anyone else take it" I asked desperately.

"Sorry mam, but we can't let our bus driver's risk their lives like that!"
replied the man on the phone.

Either Albuquerque is a million times more dangerous than I thought, or this guy is being kind of snarky.

I called my father and complained about the situation to pass the time. He was sympathetic and powerless. I saw the bus pull up at the stop before mine, a bike was on it, could it be? I saw an old man get off the bus and take the bike. What if that's my bike? Uh oh. There was another bike on the bus so I waited until it came to my stop, nope, not mine.
"Damn!" I yelled into the phone.
"What?" my dad asked.
"I think that old guy took my bike!"
"Maybe it was his bike," suggested my dad.
"I don't know I have a bad feeling about it" I rejoined. I ran up to the other stop and looked around, nothing. I complained to my father some more. He tried to comfort me, saying something about 'it might not have been the right bus,' or, more likely 'easy come easy go,' but by now I was being filled with an enraged assurance that that man had definitely taken my bike. I scanned the parking lot in front of Lowe's.
"Wait! That's the guy!" The slowest bike thief ever, he was foolin' around with a grocery bag. He got on the bike and sort of shakily started peddling away. I couldn't visually verify with certainty that it was mine because he was too far away and the sun was in my eyes, but I was certain emotionally. With motherly rage I said "hold on" into the phone and started running. I wondered briefly as I turned a corner onto a side street if I would end up risking my life to save my bike. Thanks a lot bus driver!

I chased panting after the man as he wobbled along in front of me. When I was within hearing range I yelled "Hey! Excuse me! Sir!" Being so politely addressed he stopped and looked back "Did you just get off of the number 10 bus?" I said, buying time and gaining ground as I walked quickly towards him.
"No," he replied. But by this time I was close enough to see. The man had my bike.
"Well sir," I said, "I left my bike on there sir, and that's my bike" And I pointed. This would be the life-risking portion of the day according to the man at the Albuquerque hot-line. I waited terrified. The old guy attempted to look confused. He sort of shuffled off the bike and said "Oh... okay" and handed it over. I got on and biked away as fast as possible. A way better get away than his. Once I was safely around a series of corners I remembered my dad still on the phone,

My Yellow Handle Bars At Night.

"I got it back!" I said breathlessly
"You did!? That's great!" he replied.

Then I explained the sounds of running and yelling that he'd been a witness to.

"I'm so proud of you! You're very capable. Now I know that you can take care of yourself!"

I was proud of my dad's approval and pleased to have my child back safe and sound. I rode home and made a promise to watch it like a hawk every time I rode the bus.

VOLUME TWO: Promises Broken

Time passed, my bike and I grew closer with each passing day. I put bright yellow tape on her handle bars and covered her ripped seat with flowered oil cloth to protect it from mold. We spent the summer pushing the limits of hills and heat. We experimented with carrying mad amounts of art supplies or groceries creatively, balancing them on our backs and handlebars. We went on mad cap adventures with friends! In short, WE RULED.

Bike Portrait No. 2

All this time I was a lot more careful riding the bus, forever checking to see if my yellow handle bars could be glimpsed bobbing outside the front window. When I got off the bus I would tell the bus driver, "I'm going to grab my bike." I was cautious. But you only have to mess up once.

It happened a few days ago. I was taking the bus to work with several of my co-workers. We were having some interesting conversations and all forgot to pull the string for our stop. We were all in a muddle as we quickly scrambled off and power-walked to work. I didn't even realize my oversight. All day long at work I was happy as a clam, playing with kids, coming up with ideas, and imagining my relaxing bike ride home. "I really need it!" I thought contentedly.

At then end of the day my roommate asked if I was biking home.
"Yes!" I replied enthusiastically,
"Where's your bike?" she asked. I pointed to where I usually put it, saw that I was pointing at nothing and deflated.
"Oh no..."

I had been so sure I had it. My muscle memory of taking my bike off the bus everyday must have filled in the gap. I walked outside with a general blah feeling of too-lateness, I'd left the bike on the bus 8 hours ago. I called the hot-line to file a report. My brother and Stef listened as I described my bike, "It's blue with yellow tape and an oil cloth seat with flowers on it, and it has a sticker that says 'Adam Hooks is dead' and another one that says 'I killed a zombie today at Burning Paradise Video" My brother whispered, "you're a weirdo."

My bike decked out, in the background of the bird pic.

The woman filed the report anyway, and told me they'd call me if they found it. She told me I could also check at the Alvarado Transportation Center Mon-Fri 8am-5pm. Rather hopelessly I quietly accepted the loss of my bike. I didn't let it get me down to much during the weekend, except it stung when I was invited on a bike ride. So I borrowed a bike from a friend and got back to business.

Monday was president's day so the Bus Station was closed. I biked up the hill on my friends bike and found it much easier to use. Maybe I could borrow this bike permanently. I slowed down at a busy street to check for cars. I wasn't seated. There was traffic so I braked quickly and was surprised at how much better the brakes functioned on this bike compared to my own. But I pondered this from the ground because the much better brakes had flipped me over the handle bars into the street. I was lucky. My elbow was a little skinned and one knee hurt. There had been no head to concrete interaction. I got back on the horse and thought ruefully of how dangerous it was to ride a bike that worked so much better than mine!

So today came. Today is Tuesday. I stopped by the Bus Station on the borrowed bike to see if they had my beloved bicycle. If I really believe it maybe they will have it. If they have it I might have to explain to someone why I have two bikes. I arrived at the station and told the two women behind the counter my problem. They consulted a security guard in the back who swaggered out about 5 minutes later. He asked me what kind of bike I'd lost. I described it in detail. "Flowers eh?" he said and disappeared again. He came back about 10 minutes later and asked me for my I.D. This time he left for about 15 minutes and the women started joking about how slow he was.

I wanted to know if he had my bike and was somehow cross referencing my name with crime records, or if he had stolen my bike and my i.d., or if I was going to be accused of stealing a bike that wasn't mine! Finally he returned and slowly drew a line under the photocopy of my i.d. Then he slowly wrote the date next to that. The women at the desk kept making fun of him, and that slowed him down some more. Finally he said, "sign on this line and I'll release your bike to you."

No way. I signed and smiled, he walked away to get my bike. My bike! Complete with stickers, flowers, yellow handle bars, u-lock and bike light! Hell yes!

Bits of Bike, Pre-Stickers

And then, just as a little icing on the cake, the universe deposited a nice man on his day off into my life. I had barely begun the formidable struggle of coaxing both bikes home when this man stopped and asked why I had two bikes. Being prepared for someone to ask I immediately told him the whole story. Kindly, he asked if he could ride one of them somewhere for me. Naturally, I was suspicious but I figured I could probably chase him down if I needed to. So we biked the 14 blocks to my house and I kept him tethered closely to me with friendly conversation. I thanked him profusely and he walked back downtown. Like I said, the icing on the cake.

The long and the short of my bike's many adventures? My bike still wants to be my bike. We can still both try to care for each other, to love each other. And we will try, we'll try our best.

Ripping up Space-Time

2010-02-15T14:11:00.002-07:00

I'd like to make a dance that describes how I feel. I feel about the world. I feel the world when: I look down six stories. When I look into your eyes it is like looking down six stories. When telling stories I am falling down and listening and looking into your eyes.

There are many levels to my body and if I collapse into it I feel the world better. I feel better in the world when I am collapsing in this manner.
Collapsing is equal to laughing only the first is between your bones and your joints and the second is the second delay between your body and the space in front of it.

I am in front of my body when I am laughing. I am between my bones and joints when I am collapsing. It is all about falling out of your body.

Your body doesn't exist when you are happy. Your body only exists when you are dancing.

Dancing makes me happy. My body is something I am wearing.
I am wearing out my body with all this silly dancing.
When I am laughing I don't care about being tired.
I am tired of caring.
When I am tired I don't care about a lot of things.

Shake spaces inside of you and in front of you. Dance with the space 6 stories below you and 7 feet in front of you.

Feel it between your knee bone and your knee joint.

It's a shaky little spot in front of you.
Everything around you is still and you are a shaky little spot.
You and the world are both shaking. Sometimes you shake together at the same frequency and time-space is threatened, but you do believe in God again. Sometimes the world and you oscillate and white spaces open up around your bones and your eyes. Time space is ripped up all the time because that's what happens when you let god out of your bones and eyes. Your body is not responsible for ripping up time space. It doesn't matter if you're responsible. The point is: You only feel the world when it feels you. You oscillate better when your dancing or laughing, You must oscillate to feel the world. The world must dance and laugh to feel you.

When you feel each other two things happen. You start to collapse, and the space in front of you exists at the same time as the space inside of you. I can look 6 stories below me, seven feet in front of me, and into your eyes at the same time.

Communion In February. It's all the rage.

2010-02-08T17:42:00.003-07:00

It's happening. It's happening. It's all happening at once.

pushin' sky, pump.

2010-01-29T17:57:00.003-07:00

two evening stars, are they mine or are they ours ?

out in aspingle set, the light is lit and smoked the jet

to see and seem, and say I saw what sights I've seen

i'll seamly draw my lips back tight and smiley right

and oh! the evening stars at night

Hiding in Tall Grass

2010-01-13T20:36:00.002-07:00

Snow and Sun Dogs.

2010-01-09T17:28:00.003-07:00

Dirty tired Albuquerque Boys Choir zips quickly through states. We lose 5th gear on our way to Salt Lake City, so we slow down a lot and watch the Idaho mountains. Did you know that Idaho has a great flat swoosh of land in it that all used to be the Snake River?

Yesterday I woke up in Boise. The sun was in my eyes and a Great Dane was sniffing my face. We left early: sun dogs on either side of the sun were visible all day. We got to Salt Lake in time to combine wine and ice-skating. Then sleep.

Today we drove the heck out of Utah (a gorgeous place), peed in the woods in 4 ft snow, sang a little, drank a lot of coffee, and arrived in Durango, CO. Tonight we play the last show of the tour by a lake somewhere.

Then there is Albuquerque.

Small Pictures on the Path.

2010-01-04T18:13:00.004-07:00

Going West.

Feet, Sunset, L.A.

Stef and Samuel Salsa Stepping In Echo Park.

Stef and Samuel Dancing Wildly in San Francisco.

BART Ticket Starts Glowing.

New Year's Day.

Dress crumpled on the floor.

Bridges.

Jupiter

Enjoying a snack.

We called to the chickens and they came.

Through the Jungle

2010-01-02T00:33:00.005-07:00

After sifting through Santa Cruz (the venue/place to stay fell through, but miracle tour pulled through and so we stayed at Zuni co-op and played for friends in a warm living room)

we flew along to San Fransisco.
We took the BART into town and played with BEAUTIFUL girl bands until the next year.

(At midnight we stopped our song, everyone yelled and kissed, then we finished our song, then we drank the champagne)

Then, on the way back to Berkeley (where we stayed with a goddess who taught us organic chemistry and approved of dresses worn with cowboy boots)
I fell asleep. But I woke up just in time for the impromptu concert on the train.

(click on a photo)

(which can be seen HERE, click on these words right now)

love, Sleepy (aka, Christy ABQBC)

Girl Gang, Messin' Stuff Up in Los Angeles...

2009-12-29T17:20:00.009-07:00

Playing it safe we ride our broken radiator into the city, scary traffic on all sides and Bethany is braking by shifting gears down --because of the crazy sounds the brakes are making. We get lost on our way to the house of the guy who has the key to our loaned apartment. Once we find him we all really have to pee, so we take turns chatting awkwardly with the three people and one stuffed tiger in the living room. But they give us the key and we find our apartment, lent to us by a stranger who saw us on myspace or something. He's away for a few days so we live here now!

We decide to wait on fixing the car until after our show at a wonderful venue in Highland Park. The venue is whimsically called the Griznar and used to be a) a dentist office, b) a brothel or c) both! Either way it's converted into a very welcoming home for 8 artists and their many bands (and friends).

the Twerks

The Twerks and Avocadería play the first two sets. Fun punk dance music featuring two songs about blow jobs ("my advice to you, no matter what you do don't give him a blow job") and Ganesha-Vonnegut-Latin inspired music respectively. Both were pretty awesome.

Avocadería song inspired by Cat's Cradle!

Then we came out with our little acoustic instrument band and felt really small and silly. But lo and behold! They liked us! We played amidst balloons and smiles feeling successful. Then a wonderful thing happened. B.Y.O.F.F. played. This girl band is a gaggle of amazing females playing a grab bag of instruments and singing in harmonious collective. I was stricken and pleased to be so.

B.Y.O.F.F. Better pictures to come!

On the way home we got crazy lost and all came to the end of all our ropes in various cranky ways, but we did find the apartment and we did sleep. And today we found a place to replace the broken radiator, we fixed the battery with wrenches and patience, we found Bethany's banjo which she forgot at the Griznar, and all just in time to go to our show tonight! Which I gotta get ready for right now!

Dana, Point me in the direction of the Sea, Wouldn't you?

2009-12-27T13:15:00.010-07:00

Stef's California family is extremely welcoming, easy going, and well-read, and life here is luxurious. We find ourselves in a world of clean beds, shiny floors, delicious bagel mornings, individual serving coffee machines, ocean views, and better than average wine. (Much better.)

Our first order of business is sticking our desert feet in the Pacific Ocean, and we do, even though it's "cold" outside. The ocean is big crashing wonderful, with hordes of gulls flying towards and away from the sun. A few feet into the sea is a collection of rocks that jam against ankles as the water moves up and down the beach. So we emerge from the sea with salty wet clothes and bleeding ankles.

The ground is full of sea weed treasure piles which we play with as much as possible.

We make our way over to the pier with Stef's cousin Maddy and walk out into the ocean where all the gulls are resting facing the setting sun. The boulders are huge and white with gull droppings. We see a few dead birds couched in crevices between the stones. In zero traction boots I'm afraid of falling into the sea, or worse, into a pile of slippery poo or dead bird. Despite the danger and the smell it's beautiful and real out on the rocks with the sunset horizon and the hundreds and hundreds of birds.

Christmas Eve in Prescott!

2009-12-26T13:09:00.008-07:00

Prescott. Arizona's own little Ashland Oregon. But instead of the Shakespeare festival there's Whiskey Row, a street jam packed with pubs that, I've heard, the cowboys visit on their days off. We made ourselves at home in the art district in a tiny info shop that smelled and looked exactly like the Campbell Club and was inhabited by 5 of the nicest humans and 4 of the best dogs anyone could ask for on Christmas eve.

Here is a sample of our lovely song making!

Between mouthfuls of spicy coconut soup and inexpensive wine we played some songs to our tiny audience. All snuggled together with space heaters, do-it-yourself handbooks, fairy dust (that landed in the wine!), accordians, and guitars it was the coziest christmas eve a person could ask for.

After playing our set the whole group decided to make music together. We started making up songs at about 9:30 and kept it up for five hours. There were cake fights in the kitchen, experiments in playing the saw, rounds of coffee made with dumpstered goat milk by a wonderful person named Nobody, and endless improvised lyrics to endless improvised songs. It was joyful joyful joyful, and at the end of the night Todd unfolded the couch that was so full of pennies, dust, and other unknown things that we all shouted with amazement.

Then Todd made a very nice clean sheet appear out of nowhere and the three of us slept like snuggle bugs all in row in our cocoon sleeping bags.

Having had coffee right before bed I got up once to walk outside and see Prescott at night. The stars were exceptionally bright and closer than usual. Then, I snuck back to my place between Bethany and Stef and went to sleep.

Tour Begins: Boys Choir Shenanigins!

2009-12-24T13:03:00.008-07:00

With a variety of hip haircuts and beards we left Albuquerque and journeyed to Flagstaff, Arizona. On the way we coined the phrase: "I'll Flag your Staff!" which I'm certain will be very popular here.

Other than that we have sustained a number of very helpful miracles.

1. The windshield is periodically sprayed with bright green coolant reminding us to check the engine every once in a while, and not to mix up the window wash container with the coolant container.

2. We have copied the key to the car (one per person) so that we don't get locked out in the snow a second time!

3. It turned out that the time change in Arizona would make us be on time for our show, then it turned out that Arizona doesn't have a time change, but we were on time anyway (that was a confusing miracle).

4. I made a snow angel and didn't get cold and wet!

5. The virtually empty coffee shop at which we were playing a show magically filled with smiling faces ten minutes before showtime.

All these miracles (and more!) are probably due to the kind thoughts from our wonderful friends and family, but also Stef is wearing her angel necklace, I sewed my lucky buttons to my sweater, and Bethany's praying a lot. Oh, and the magic marble from Eric!

drawings inspired by a dream

2009-12-10T21:31:00.006-07:00

1. Where the cloud meets the sky.

2. Where the page meet's it's shadow.

3. Where Bethany meets Christy.

I had a dream where I wrote down the colors of some of the pixels in a photo of a man sitting. The pixels I wrote down were the ones where the man and the chair met.

I could zoom in a lot more in my dream. There were pixels within pixels.

Thanks Thanksgiving!

2009-11-29T18:19:00.005-07:00

Dear Blog,

Lately I've been in Oregon. Mostly just the usual. Tea, Knitting, Can-can dancing on stage with a reindeer, Cole, Eric, Paul, Rose, and the man singing Christmas carols to thousands of people. You know, typical Thanksgiving stuff.

It's too bad we didn't get in the Daily Tidings. They put Santa on the front page, and it actually was Santa. His name was listed as Santa in the caption. You can't put a fake name in the newspaper!

I arrived in Portland just in time to enjoy the experience of Pete basting a turkey. I enjoyed it immensely! Then Pete and whiskey made me feel right at home. A few hours later I was whisked away by a guy met on craigslist, Eric, and a (literal) bucket of vegan donuts.

Me and Pete hang out in the hospital! A blast from the past I found while sorting through boxes!

The donuts and I cuddled up in the back and enjoyed the two hour drive to the Shire--I mean, Eugene. But when I was all settled into my hobbit hole-- I mean, Ilana and Kyle's hobbit hole my stomach started hurting and I told the donuts we couldn't be friends anymore.

The next morning was nothing but wispy blue clouds in a wispy blue sky, followed by coffee and two breakfasts (typical of hobbits). Next I revisited my beloved Craft Center. Diane described the new floor as "white and covered with blood!" I replied, "I love it!"

On to Ashland Oregon with Cole as chauffer. He pulled off the highway along lonely stretches and hinted "jokingly" that he was planning to kill us. Nevertheless we all made it to Ashland alive and unmaimed and were able to keep our appointment with destiny.

Destiny? Yes, the moment I mentioned earlier. The moment that will live on and on and on... in all hearts of Ashlanders. The moment we shuffled off our mortal limitations and took to the stage!

Each year Ashland has a day after Thanksgiving parade (about 15 minutes of carolers, trucks, and gingerbread men) in which Santa arrives just in time to turn on all the lights downtown. And he gives a speech. After every sentence of joy and thanks he says: "Hurray!" or "Yay!"

This year his speech worked us into such a frenzy that we were shrieking "hurray" right along with him! And when the man who always sings christmas carols came on stage to sing we danced with abandon.

"On the one hand, [dancing on stage] would be the greatest thing ever, on the other hand we'd ruin Christmas!" -Cole Robinson (aka "Scrooge," and "the Grinch")

Still, in such a heightened state of christmas joy there is only one logical next step. So yes, we found ourselves storming the stage (with the help of one of the reindeer) in order to dance behind the solitary man singing "jingle bell rock" to an audience consisting of... Ashland. I saw myself clearly in that moment, highkicking, one hand on Cole's shoulder, one on Paul's, "this is it" I thought. "This is what it's all about..."

Love,
C

A Group Study in Aunt Beast in New Mexico

2009-11-09T00:45:00.003-07:00

Many months ago, after reading A Wrinkle In Time we assigned ourselves this task: draw Aunt Beast. Aunt Beast, that caretaker alien, that motherly, tentacled comfort. Or was she tentacled? The drawings above conflict often.

These sketches are by (from top to bottom) Phil, Allee, Kristen, Stef, and Christy. I have taken the liberty of superimposing the aunts into their natural environments.

2009-11-06T10:51:00.002-07:00

Ideas:

On the way to work today, biking in fall with the trees and the moon and such it occured to me, this plan: put the dictionary in rhyming order. Maybe starting with the pocket dictionary.

Next idea came in the theater at VSA: surrounded by smiling faces, a bunch of emphasis on shoulders and dance:choreograph a dance with verbal audible instructions as a part of the finished performance. Also, incorporate actions like condensing. For instance a group of birds condensing the ones in the center.

Finding Fairies Again!

2009-11-04T08:12:00.001-07:00

And for the Shamanic Dancing portion of the evening...

2009-11-02T13:37:00.003-07:00

Fits and Starts of
Performance Arts

See this film to experience a little of what I experience every day.

Found Items on Computers Part 3

2009-10-22T20:04:00.005-07:00

( Beautiful Photo )

Photo by Stef Graner, found on Stef Graners (public?) computer

Location: La Quinta Inn: Las Cruces, NM

Background Noise: Motel TV

History of today: Learned some shamanic dancing and how to drum my name in morse code.

Part 2: Found Items on a Computer

2009-10-13T20:08:00.003-07:00

I found this on my computer, but it was still surprising to me.
Woe! That there are so few public computers in Albuquerque, by me time oh odd bone.

Sounds: sighing, a fan

Found item on a public computer, part 1 of 10

2009-09-30T13:48:00.004-07:00

Time: 2:51 pm
Sounds Heard: "swing, swing, swing, swing, swing" and footsteps
Location: Americorps Office, N4th, ABQ, NM

Come Again

2009-09-13T13:23:00.001-07:00

Communion, like teachers, took a small summer vacation, but LO and BEHOLD it comes again. This Friday the Park Ave. Family is happy to host the first Communion to take place in September! There will be song, wine, smiles and if it feels chilly a fire in the fire place!

the first thing I noticed on my way home today.

2009-09-04T21:20:00.004-07:00

Grand cloud houses moving imperceptibly westward (looking like castles inexplicably floating) over this city, so flat in comparison with their impossible curved and reaching architecture.

2009-08-30T14:26:00.001-07:00

One of the giant fairies that's been hanging around my room! I got a picture of him today next to the crystal. Look at those runners legs. That's his bike outside, just his size.

Guests in my room.

2009-08-29T21:09:00.006-07:00

Earlier today I noticed that there was a substantial fat fairy landed on a painting my brother made me for christmas (using highlighters, pen, and white out). I eyed it nervously because it was a large, and precariously placed. It seemed like it might fall off and roll out of control on to my toes or knees or something else ticklish.

But I was on the phone so I kind of turned around and ignored it for a while. By the time I hung up the fairy was forgotten. Much later, which happened to be just now, my attention was drawn to a loud clacking outside of my window.

Since the sun has set and I am alone in my house I had another nervous moment looking towards the thin screen separating me from the rest of Albuquerque. And there, on the very screen was another large fairy. Landing awkwardly and somehow managing to make the screen go "clack" every time he settled against it. Seeing this fairy banging around outside reminded me to check on the painting. I looked around to find he'd left.

This is a photo of a fairy I saw last week. Not like today's fairies at all. They were heavy and more like wizened old men.

Take Me to The Sky

2009-08-21T21:14:00.001-07:00

Realizando Todo

2009-08-10T17:07:00.003-07:00

Given a half
thought
each arm and leg invites you to the show:

Thursday, August 13 at 7pm
VSA N4th Theater ABQ

Film Festival Flier

2009-07-24T16:04:00.002-07:00

Rainbow Connection

2009-07-23T15:26:00.008-07:00

The first time I woke up to rustling. I looked blearily out of my sleeping bag and noticed that little drops of rain were settling happily on my face and into the folds of my unprotected bed. Eric was already moving our stuff out of the rain. We resettled our sleeping bags under some nearby tarps but there was a gap that corresponded perfectly with the nicest flat patch of ground.
I woke up cold and wet, and wearing a fuzzy animal hat I'd put on my head to keep the rain out. Eric was wearing a lion on his head. The camp, under whose tarp we had settled, turned out to be the "wanna-be pirate camp." The wanna-be pirates didn't seemed perturbed to find two damp strangers sleeping under their tarp and wearing over sized stuffed animals on their heads. One woman opened her tent, looked straight at us and said, "Meow....." in a long relaxed drawling kind of way. We meowed back and then left to find breakfast.

Imagine waking up to these cats sleeping under your tarp.

Eric and I spent our first day at the gathering hitching back to Cuba to buy "lots of chocolate" and to make some phone calls. We caught a ride part of the way down with a taxi that some savvy rainbowers had talked into taking them all the way up to the gathering from downtown Albuquerque. As it turned out, Cuba doesn't have chocolate (good chocolate) but it did have phone reception and we got in touch with our friends telling them to meet us in Main Meadow. Before we headed back I walked into a gas station to use the restroom still sporting my animal head. I overheard a girl say to her friend as they passed me, "why are there so many hobos around today?" I was offended for a second but then I noticed that the place was crawling with dirty hippies. Even if she was talking about me we totally outnumbered everyone else.

The Rainbow Family

Catching a ride back up to the gathering was as easy as saying "welcome home" and we spent the rest of the day wandering through a myriad of camps with our bags and stilts slung over our shoulders. We met up with some friends who came up for the day and had dinner at Fairy Camp, which was one of the cleanest friendliest and most organized camps I witnessed. It was also, quite magically, infested with extremely adorable kittens that posed on mossy logs just waiting for Cat Calendar photographers to come by.

Maggie holds one of the mystery kittens.

The Beautiful People

Eric juggles as dusk descends.

The message board. Full of amazing poetry.

As night fell we began to wonder if we would again be sleeping in the open. Bethany was coming, supposedly, and bringing us a tent. We headed for Main Meadow to wait, but as ten o clock rolled around we decided to find shelter under another tarp. This night passed without rainfall but with an outrageous amount of loud drumming that seeped into my sleepy head making me feel grumpy and uncomfortable. But at three or four the drumming died down and the sun rose on a hushed fourth of July. The rainbow family requests silence all morning on the fourth of July so Eric and I communicated by spelling words in sign language, an entirely silent process except for the moments in which we yelled with laughter because of all the mistakes we were making.

Good Morning Starshine, the earth says hello...

I headed down to the main meadow and was amazed by the sight of thousands of quiet people. Everyone seemed to be wearing their most tiedyed outfits for the occasion. I walked through the field mesmerized by the silence, the colors and the light. I walked toward the notice board where we'd left a note for Bethany and was totally pleased to see her seated in the grass amidst the crowds of people I didn't. We had an almost silent greeting and wrote each other notes as we took our place in the concentric circles coming out of the middle of the field. It started to rain just as Eric found us.

I am amazed by the quiet, colors, and rain.

Everyone stood up and slowly, almost imperceptibly the humming began. It started as a low drone and grew nearer and nearer. Suddenly we were engulfed in the ohm and added our voices to it. The rain continued to fall. When we joined the group we took our place in the outermost circle. I looked behind me and was amazed to see row after row of people holding hands in bigger and bigger circles behind ours. The sound continued in a huge rising and falling and harmonizing wave. I don't know exactly how much time passed but the agreed upon time hit and there was a great yell, all of the voices joining together rising into the rain that continued to fall in great wet drippy drops. When the yell ended the rain stopped and the sun shone warm, yellow, and bright. The children marched into the center of the circle to recieve their blessing...

The Children's Parade!

That was my favorite part of the rainbow gathering. I spent the rest of the day ducked under tarps as subsequent storms roamed the mountains, eating, drinking, and making merry with Bethany and Eric. We put on our stilts later in the day and toured the meadow bringing joy and happiness everywhere we went. And right before leaving our elevated states the sun and rain converged in such perfect angles and delicate proportions as to create the brightest and most beautiful double rainbow I have ever seen. Everyone applauded and cheered loudly for the rainbow that seemed to brighten the more we smiled. Later I heard many an old man comment on the rainbow, saying it was the best that they had ever seen in all their many years of being alive.

Part of the Amazing Rainbow!

After stilting we were muddy and sang about it, "bare feet and a baby in yer hair, watcha gonna do....?"

That night we slept in a tent, and a good thing to because the most outrageous thunder and lightning storm danced garishly right over our heads all night. The tent lit up in frightening strobes of white light and the rain pummeled feircely with tiny wet fists. I nervously counted seconds but couldn't remember whether I was supposed to count after lightning or thunder (it was about the same either way). Needless to say I woke up relieved to be waking up.

Raw food camp/Fashion show!

Instant Soup camp Meadow!

We took down camp after a muddy breakfast and slowly made our way out of the family-like cacoon that was the rainbow gathering. We hiked from its beautiful camps complete with compost facilities, into its hovel like shanty town complete with trailers and piles of trash. This bordered the edge of the gathering where we were reunited with Bethany's car parked with thousands of other cars from all over the country. We gave a couple a ride down to their car (a couple of miles away) and commented on which cars we thought were definately going to roll down the mountain (based on the precarity of the way in which they were parked).

I looked at my feet and noticed they were quite muddy.

Team Bethany Christy Eric! Rainbow Children on the Fourth!

And I'll be planting some sunflowers at midnight

2009-06-30T17:14:00.006-07:00

Feet on hot concrete. I feel like shoulders and other peoples thoughts. I've been thinking that I should plant some sunflowers in a box and set them in the morning light, next to the white wall outside.

Perivascular Spaces

2009-06-27T14:18:00.004-07:00

*Etymology: Gk, peri, around; L, vasculum, little vessel, spatium, space

Ninety One White Squares

2009-06-26T13:01:00.003-07:00

All of them like this.

Every Day at Nine For Nine (Non Sequential) Days: Part Nine (the final installment)

2009-06-20T22:02:00.003-07:00

As I sit here sipping on the last two fingers of a bottle of wine I begin to consider this project that has now come to a close. Every day at nine for nine (non sequential) days I took a picture with photo booth and uploaded it to my blog. Initially the days were supposed be sequential. Initially the images were intended to be of me exactly as I was at nine o clock on any given night. And so the two loose guidelines I had were forgotten (and forgiven) and the project turned into what it is. Now, how to conclude my cacophony of pixelly images and partially formed

E D A N F N ( N S ) D : P E

2009-06-17T21:36:00.002-07:00

help me direct my invisible, invincible, orchestra.

edanfn(ns)d: part 7

2009-06-16T20:42:00.002-07:00

smoke and mirrors, ghost in the hall, "(bluebird)," shooting star cotton balls, thinking better when you are lying down, and talking in an Indian accent.

every day at nine for nine (non sequential) days: parts five and six

2009-06-14T20:38:00.002-07:00

eveRy dAy at nINe for nIne dayS: pART four

2009-06-11T20:48:00.003-07:00

this reflects a process that I went through in order to find this.

Communion in June: Yes.

2009-06-11T07:00:00.001-07:00

Yes, come! Thanks Eric, for making the poster.

every day at 9 for 9 days: part 3

2009-06-10T20:13:00.003-07:00

Blacking out Key background Elements, and adding a couple things to the Foreground, too.

EDANFND: Part II

2009-06-09T22:27:00.002-07:00

The Person on the Wall

Every Day at Nine for Nine Days: Part One

2009-06-08T20:07:00.001-07:00

My hand has been tampered with.

Flight Patterns

2009-05-30T22:45:00.003-07:00

White Sand, White Sand!

2009-05-27T11:01:00.002-07:00

(white sands from space)

the sand was so white
that we looked brown
and the clouds looked blue.

Communion May, Communión Mayo

2009-05-23T15:58:00.003-07:00

Communion in May. Oh ho lag a day! This time more instruments than players, next time more centaurs and less hooligans, and the time after we can expect more rain than fire, I tell you. I'd like to quote a friend and say "the rocks are doing something, so bode well for the sticks," but that's not exactly what he said as he threw the hat onto the rocket launcher. No need to worry, this is all entirely true, except for the parts I'm making up.

Speaking of centaurs.

And with beliefs green. So spoke the queen. Ah, ye of little faith, and much smaller fingers. The tiniest fingers (to come!).

Dr. Albuquerque

2009-05-22T15:06:00.004-07:00

The little hemp-pants wearing man set me immediately at ease. His matching sage green shirt, socks, and eyes (the texture of dried glue) did too. In a matter of mismatched moments he danced in and out of a rolling chair, examined my sore throat, twiddled the sides of his mouth, and announced that he was ready for retirement. He wrote out a prescription in scrawly doctor print, and handed it to me. His eyes gleamed beams at me as he firmly negated my attempts at self diagnosis. This wiley old man, a slight-egoist wearing tan crocs, is my kind of doctor.

Something I Thought Would Look Nice in the Bathroom.

2009-05-18T16:08:00.004-07:00

It's time to paint more often. Because it is time to paint more often I painted this picture. When I look at it I laugh. I hope that when you look at it you laugh too.

Love, Christy

Days

2009-05-13T18:00:00.004-07:00

No day is all too easy these days, but all the days are long and good. The heat wakes me up early and makes me stay in bed. Often oatmeal and coffee, sometimes just lemon juice and maple syrup. Meetings, errands, calls. Usually a bike uphill. Then four hours in some classroom with too many or too few students. Yesterday short films. I was a cop in the film, I had to sleep while my students stole the piles of money surrounding me. Then I had to run after them while the sun beat down and they laughed, darting ever so easily out of reach. Today songs. We play guitar and sing about birds, butterflies, 'pickle-oh's,' and Finnegan the snail. Tomorrow performance art. A bike/bus/car ride home, squinting into the sun. The earth is so hot. Vegetables to eat and water to drink, band practice. I stay up later and later the closer summer comes, the cooler hours are for the tent, ideas, and the moon.

It's May and Communion is Going to Happen.

2009-05-11T13:56:00.000-07:00

Before Going to Bed: Something!

2009-05-08T22:34:00.008-07:00

Welcome! The night is buzzing! Remember the item that you left in Chicago? Listen to the Wonderful Rainbow Man! That's me! Listen to the crickets! Roll your eyes. Wiggle your toes, say goodnight to the moon! Wiggle the moons' toes, spin the night! Remember the crickets that you left in Chicago. Roll the item, go to sleep!

Photos in Blue Light, and A Link to Nonconsensual Knit Stalking

2009-04-28T12:27:00.004-07:00

Read Dreams Here:

http://nonconsensualknitstalking.blogspot.com/

Telling Stories Inside of A Small House within a House, In Chicago, 2009

2009-04-25T16:36:00.003-07:00

Notes on the Project:

The performance was a part of Institute. http://www.i-n-s-t-i-t-u-t-e.org/index.html
House was set up in the living space of Julia Rich, Sarah Elliot and Zayne Armstrong.
Jesse came and sang with me. We shared a guitar, and the yellow House.
During the course of the performance we discovered that the house was Jesse's dreamspace.
David Cook, brother, was there and sang along sometimes.

Just Waiting Around in the Jungle

2009-04-22T15:26:00.006-07:00

I can imagine that Winnings Coffee Co. is actually located in South America. It's on the edge of the jungle and everyone who comes in is in the middle of a hitchiking/backpacking/or bike touring trip. Either that, or they've been attending a Bob Marley concert.

The fans are breezy, the coffee iced, the ceiling high, and the bookseller in the corner is playing his guitar to his computer because he's got his grandson on skype. He doesn't mind that the radio is playing Bollywood music. He just goes right on playing.

Everyone you meet in the coffee shop in the middle of the jungle has at least 2 really good ideas per day. Although located far from everything else it is very likely that you will meet someone here that you know. Someone I know just gave me some wildflower paper. If you plant the paper it will grow wild flowers.

That makes me glow.

Santa Fe

2009-04-17T21:32:00.002-07:00

Today Is Santa Fe Day.

Today I Really Like Santa Fe.

For All the Little Details: The snow on the tracks, the forgotten numbers, the borrowed maps.
The last minute money machines, the many "THANK YOU SO MUCH!"'s I've given out like money, the money I've given out like "thank you"s, the three bus drivers I talked to, the one who didn't talk to me, the turquoise jewelry (can any ode to SF not include this?),
the wild goose workshop, the bike ride in the snowglobe, the room I'm in now.

The dreams I'm about to have!

Important Goals

2009-04-06T12:27:00.003-07:00

There are some things you can do absolutely nothing about. That is not entirely true. You can easily spend time fashioning intricate web-like structures of IDEAS that in some infinitesimally small way relate to that which you can do "nothing" about.

For the moment I would like to abolish these gaudy white castles, these symposiums of "might be's" and "only if's" and the corpulent body of Lists that compose them. And while these ghosts are momentarily abolished I invite the sour and bright company of these elements into the shivering hallways:

Sunlight, whiskey, cleaning detergent, and Cold Bright Water.

In short: A small but important goal has presented itself, and there is everything I can do about it.

To Clean The Bathroom.

Eating Oily Things In In-Between Spaces

2009-03-31T19:12:00.004-07:00

Oh my gosh. I am eating the most disgusting mountain of onion rings at Gate C of the Denver airport. Didn't think I'd be back in Colorado so soon, but all of a sudden here I am. Fresh out of Chicago, a completely different person.

This is how I look in Chicago.

I have been having a few drinks. Bloody Mary's and Beers and things, you know. The overall effect is that I am greasily delighted with myself right now. Something rather sinister about my joy is that I've been reading Lolita for the last couple of hours and Humbert Humbert's salivating style has started to influence my innocence.
What do I mean by that? Let's leave it for now, and glory glory in the oil! ...and the bitter beer.

I am not sure, in fact I'm probably making this up (almost completely) but it seems that the drunk man sitting at the bar was the captain on my recent flight. He is talking about how the flight from Chicago to Denver was dangerously overweighted, and slurring every other word. Compatriot! I thank the jewel covered heavens (which may reside incidentally in Paradise--did you know!? See the following paragraph) that I am safe on the ground with my table of delights.

Oh speaking of delights (because I must!) There was an exceptionally delightful trip to a sweet shoppe last night (the second visit of my trip) whose menu taught me a whole new wing of poetry that is expressly based on the gorge-ousness of dessert. The menu was strewn with lines like "Heaven in Paradise (as if one is less than the other --but together they are pure exhalations of delicious ecstasy)" and "Whipped to your Fantasy and Bananas." An amazing fragment sentence describing the whipping cream topping a sundae --I guess --- but perhaps it's describing something else: a tropical island scene with frothy waves lashing sexy sun-drenched legs --"and Bananas!"( capitalized!).

Less sexy day at the beach, but utterly delightful

Our table collectively ordered two relatively modest sundaes (we forgo the George á la George $60, 70 scoops) entitled "Jumbo." The deserts came in large (and very plastic) white shells. It was as if some creamy and melting versions of the Venus de Milo had floated over to our table transforming us into the chubby Cherubs by association.

This whole meandering seems to deal exclusively with consumption, but there is yet an important element that must be mentioned. Each fabulous encounter with extra-necessary edibles takes place in a scene of the in-between.

The AIRPORT is Fantastically in between and Bananas!

People work here, but they work in a functioning nowhere. If a place is defined by the people interacting with it, the Airport is a face with features continually displaced, renegotiated, and confused. It's rough attempts to assert it's own identity through shops that summarize the city in which it sits (ex: the gift shop full of Obama and Mirrored Bean memorabilia in Chicago) are foiled at every turn. Every thing is too clean, too expensive, too expertly dressed. My beer is glaring at me ("Yes, you are too expensive, and much too well dressed even if you were brewed right here in Denver Colorado!").

I imply that dessert was also consumed in a non-space / in-between space. Which is untrue. But I was in something of an in-between space. Chicago exists more permanently for me than before, but only slightly. It is like a very nicely constructed movie set that might blow over now that I've gone. There's is more to this tipsy ramble. But I have a flight to catch.

To be continued...

Chicago as movie set, and all the actors.

I really like Chicago.

2009-03-29T11:25:00.003-07:00

I think that I could be here for a long time. I was walking with Sarah and Zayne and Zayne said, "This is the sea of interestingly colored things" and he gestured grandly to a particularly dingy section of ground under the train tracks. It was a corner filled with lots of little stones, but there was also an unusual number of small brightly colored objects collected between the rocks. There was a blue lego, a red something, a pink balloon, "Oh! A rollerskate!" said Zayne picking up a tiny rollerskate, "wow!" I said," "Look! A dead rat!" said Sarah, and we looked, and there was a dead rat.

I loved that. It kind of freaked me out and I felt sorry for the rat, but I also loved it.

I took the train downtown this morning, and I looked out my window the whole time. I could devote a year to a project I'm thinking about. The project would be to systematically look out of windows in Chicago. I would also spend a lot of time waiting for, and riding on trains. I would look out of the windows of every train I rode on. It might be nice to take photographs, but looking at things would be the project.

Yesterday David took me to the art museum. A woman asked us if we were okay because we were laying on the floor harmonizing for a half an hour and we forgot where we were. It was great because as soon as we said we were rehearsing for an art project she seemed really relieved. I also sang in a library yesterday. That was another art project that David's roommate Megan was organizing. To get into the library you have to have a school ID but I told the security guard that I needed to participate in an art project, and she immediately let me in. Pretending to be an artist/Being an artist really does help you do things. Everyone should take advantage of this all of the time, and accidentaly become artists in the process.

My favorite sequence of events in Chicago so far involved eating (pizza) drinking (beer) and then eating (dessert) some more. It was so glutenous and beautiful. I understand what Virginia Woolf was talking about when she said that you need to be well fed in order to feel like you're going to heaven. I have been drinking a lot of coffee, but we are only going to drink tea tomorrow when I set up the tent and sings songs. Now I am going to go find a toy store.

C

Conversations About Joni Mitchell

2009-03-26T12:44:00.004-07:00

Chicago reminds me of the idea I had of Chicago. The houses are very pointy. These are the kind of Americans who have upward mobility in mind, why else would so many identical arrows line the streets? The colors of the homes are very distinctive, which is very important because they are so close to each other.

My brother lives in an old warehouse. His room is two very small rooms, and he hangs his lamp on a nail in one room, and on an ankh in the other. "It's perfect because an ankh is a symbol of the sun" he told me. David has chickens, and a small black cat called "____." He has 3 roommates that all remind me of David.

I've met some of the people that I've been hearing about for four years. One of these is a professor named Matthew Goulish. He is exactly as wonderful as David describes him, except alive, so more wonderful. I attended one of his classes which I got to participate because a) "all twins are allowed to come to class" (-M.G.) and b) I'd read the book the month before, The Turn of the Screw by Henry James. It's a ghost story, but now, having been to class, I have a sneaking suspicion that it's actually abstinence porn like Twilight. I am not sure yet, so don't tell anyone that.

I have to finish building my tent, and writing songs to sing inside of it, because I keep inviting people to come to my tent and listen to my songs.

This trip has been punctuated very regularly with conversations about Joni Mitchell. She's like a clock.

Christy Finally Goes to Colorado. Part I.

2009-03-23T20:52:00.007-07:00

With all the ease in the world we decided to take the band on tour, to one place. Denver Colorado. Having earned $35 (by passing around a hat) we figured we had enough money to finance our trip! And so we set off for Colorado with two guitars, a banjo, a churango, a tiny tamborine, and a new name: Albuquerque Boys Choir (we don't have a myspace yet, but look us up soon).

Albuquerque Boys Choir (Bethany, Christy, Stef)

Arriving at the Pitchfork co-op was surreal. We walked in the door and I recognized everything. First the smell, then the posters on the walls, and the dirt on the floor, and the man sleeping on the couch (a guitar tucking him in like some wise and sturdy blanket.) It all sunk into me with such but-of-courseness that I giggled all the way up the rickety stairs to the attic library.

We slept there and in the morning got to know Denver in the best way possible: picking up food for Food Not Bombs. Bethany, Stef and I piled into the truck with Eric. I use the word "piled" entirely on purpose. The passenger seat was not affixed to the floor in any way. It was wonderful. We then headed to the markets that give donations to food not bombs. I believe that this is the best way to shake hands with a city. Here's why: A) Often when you go to a new place the majority of your interactions with human beings involve money. B) It feels much better to pull up to the backs of grocery stores in a big brown truck and politely ask where the huge pile of free food is waiting. Everyone smiles as you lift box after box of perfectly ripe tomatoes and one-day-past-expiration-date crates of soy milk into the back of your truck. They dig around and shout things like "hey I found some eggs you could take! And how about an amazing fuckload of beautiful grapes?" (No one actually said fuckload, but I felt like they were saying it. And fuckload was the most beautiful bountiful word ever uttered). We were gifted a small mountain of bread, a bursting bag of pastries, pears, boxes of the world's most lovely peppers, clove after clove of garlic, and miles of smiles...

We brought back our moving van of food and got to sort it, chop it, taste it, and cook it! There is nothing I miss so much about living in co-ops as chopping mountains of vegetables on huge cutting boards with 3 or 4 other people.

At some point we drifted away for naps and band practice and evening came.

The Legendary Explodin' Jesus Christs opened up the evening with some soon to be hits. The band consists of two of the co-opers, a piano/alternately guitar, and a very small casio keyboard. They're lyrics are really to dirty to repeat here, but in person are hilariously appropriate. After the rousing show we were nervous about our soft harmonies and folky acousticness, but it went off very well. And we had them dancing by the end! I want to make more dance music just to see people dance!

After the show the night imploded into the usual sort of co-op party activities: a bonfire (eggs being fried on top of), bottles of wine, banging on pots, throwing things out of and at windows (Bethany attempted to push someone out of a window, but the only victim was a potted plant), a game of sardines (Swooning with melancholic reminsings I encouraged everyone to sing "Row row row your boat" while we hid in a tiny room together in the dark),

--Note: Of course, nothing compares to playing Sardines in the JS when it was closed down, what with the rats, the hobos, and all of the ghosts standing invisible in the hall--if you know what I mean.

and an unexpected trip into the night to play zombies on a play structure across the street.
Then sleep on a library floor, and morning.

As we left I noticed the clouds were exploding in ways I have never seen before.

Holding

2009-03-19T21:12:00.005-07:00

Yesterday I was standing on a hill of black rocks with some students from the community center. It was really hot, but windy, and the climb had been steep, but short. One child came up to me and said, "Christy, is this one of the most wonderful things that's ever happened to you?" I thought for a second and said, "yeah, kind of" and she said "me too!" Later we found a rabbits foot.

Fourth Communion, Sip of our Spirit.

2009-03-10T17:51:00.002-07:00

The fourth Communion of all time will take place this Saturday at our house. If you are in Albuquerque and you are feeling musical or something else you are cordially invited to come! This applies to all consecutive Communions as well (the second Saturday of the month!) Disclaimer: Although we partake in wine drinking it is not necessarily the blood of Christ. Communion = Really Great sharing on whatever spiritual/intellectual/chemical/spacial level you choose to operate in.

Public Announcement Number 1

2009-03-08T21:56:00.002-07:00

Out of necessity we started a band.

Happening in Funny Ways

2009-03-06T01:14:00.005-07:00

diagram of something else: part I

It would seem to be an accurate description of the events. Something strange happening, or funny maybe. That is, things were occurring awkwardly and efficiently at once. The pieces were falling up, like leaves (if they were to fall up), or dominoes to be more precise. The phone calls, and the words all arranged themselves like hiccups and giggles.
The back of a hand gave off a telling glow, the earth and the buildings rearranged themselves in tetris variations. The bed was falling apart, sheets first. It was like lemon custard exactly, some evasive crust on the tip of a silver spoon. Every question and motive was a limitation because of the exactness of the kaleidoscopic "to be."

diagram of something else: part II

The fingers sensed it slowly, and attempted a portrait. "Careful of the pear and the purple curtain!" Now this is a delicate line to walk, like a memory of how fruit smells. A very slim trail. And to follow it on an empty stomach with circles under your eyes! But this is exactly the sort of trail I have been looking for! I grasp at thin tree branches, green mosses, and a path I've walked on and have not walked on (both at the same time).
I :::::::::::: the road, the simplicity of the arrangements, the buttons lining up, and the edge similes that fit between the dark dark fir and the light light field. These last two were located by a lake in Oregon that we used to go to a lot.

diagram of something else: part III

As the Days get Warmer so too do my Words. (Gold Earring Theory Part II)

2009-02-24T22:13:00.006-07:00

Although I did not wear gold earrings today, I felt as though I could have. Today was a t-shirt day. Now at 10:30pm I could still probably sit on the back steps playing the guitar and feel heat coming up through the concrete under my feet. Heat concrete, feet. That, my friend, is what gold is really about.
I woke up with a sore throat. But it was only on one side: Your left, My right. I squeezed a lemon at it. Then I got in a sour mood (was it the citrus?) I squeaked my way through a pot of tea, and finally got a friend to steal me a cup of coffee, but was I really breaking the law? My lack of gold earrings stirred about my face. I drank the coffee and began to feel just fine...

Does coffee count if you steal it? Who, other than A, will judge me if I drink coffee anyways? A always tells me not to drink coffee, but he doesn't give me convincing arguments.
I went to work all buzzed up and jittery. I was walking on shaky clouds. We played games on dry spring grass. A new student got the giggles. He laughed the whole time. His chuckling made me feel very successful. Mostly we mimed setting traps and falling into them.

After a sumptuous meal I found myself quite inexplicably forced into attending a potluck. We sat on a rug laid on a carpet, a volley of food piled up around our ankles. I was stuffed and thus refused everything but wine. I got very jolly and knocked down piles of plastic cups that Bryan built. He knocked down mine. We acted exactly like children.

(Note: At the restaurant a couple of really cute, small, french children turned to our table and announced "I have a cookie!" They were both very smug about it. Then then they started repeating themselves and adding nonsense words "I have a cookie mookie lookie dooky," "rooky tooky shooky pooky." We were being bombarded with "ooky" words. Streams of "sooky wookie looky zooky" poked our eyes and prodded our half drunk chai teas. Who taught them to do this? It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened!)

Back and forward in time now. In the strange apartment, on the floor, picnic adjacent, someone turned off the lights and we told each other of places we had been and would like to return to. My favorite was cape cod what with the coconut oil, roller blades, and salt water taffy.

I told a story about floating on my back in a lake. All I could see and feel was blue blue blue. It was like I was in the sky. To wrap up my theory on gold earrings I would like to put in one final thought --here amidst the blue sky. I guess living in Albuquerque is kind of like living in the sky. But you aren't weightless. There's something tugging at your ears.

Gold Earring Theory, Part I

2009-02-23T22:39:00.014-07:00

I told myself stories as I looked in the mirror. The stories were about heavy eyes and a person who wore only one gold hoop earring. It looked so nice in the story that I tried on just one earring as well. My theory (as of today) is that one gold hoop earring only looks nice if you wear it out of necessity. If you wear the earring for the express purpose of melting it down for gold at some later and critical moment it will look beautiful. My thin gold-colored earring would cringe and smoke sickly puce if anyone tried to melt it down. It was obviously purposeless alone, so I put on both earrings instead.

"Wrapped in a dreamy state getting up was slow today."

The day was lazily hot and overcast. I wanted to bike languorously to work but ended up fighting wind, and trying to outrace mysterious cyclists dressed in black. I encountered tumbleweeds, swooping clans of pigeons, and dry warm dust. I took a path I'd never ridden before and stumbled upon the intersection of Don Quixote and La Mancha. "Huh!," I said, as I remounted my trusty steed (bicycle) and headed blindly back into the wind my cheap earrings clanking about my ears. I kept a suspicious eye out for windmills, but found none.

Todayism

2009-02-20T00:08:00.010-07:00

Everything is Happening. And it's funny. The boy barked our warning and we stopped still, by the skate park. Holding hands, waiting for another signal. A dog barked at the boy, the boy barked, we started walking again, holding hands, as if we had been walking all the while.

I started a fire in the fireplace. I burned a lot of advertisements (in a variety of neon colored flames) before the wood caught fire. The wood caught fire! I thought about digging a fire pit with a stick in a hard flat clearing while it was raining. I thought about blowing on those precious bits of kindling and how the fire pit was not deep enough to stop the wind.

Everything is funny. My leg spasms when things are so funny that they are sad. Or so sad that they are funny. Or so sad/funny that they are beautiful. Everything is beautiful and easy.

The fire now, in it's very burned down state, reminds me of Christmas. That, and the colored lights. Both, together. I feel like it is Christmas eve. I am excited because I like laying next to the tree and smelling it. I also like to practice balancing while watching the fire. I have not practiced balancing since Christmas when I was eight. I used to balance for long periods of time in the living room, standing on small platforms with wheels (not limited to skate boards). I would pursue balance.

Today I am pursing health. I am stalking it. I am taking it to sleep with me, and drinking little bits of it, and putting my head over a hot bowl of it and breathing it in. I am taking brisk bike rides with it, I am putting it in the dishwater and rubbing it into my skin. I am considering constructing a small platform and labeling it "health." After I make it I will spend hours balancing on it in front of the fire.

There are so many things I could spend hours doing!

Why does Jesus holds up two fingers in the paintings? Because he is pushing a little blessing at you, bopping it along. His fingers are the paddle, the blessing is the Foosball.

I laughed so much when the blessing bopped Stef. She got three Yahtzee's in a row and couldn't stop shaking with joy. My stomach ached in horrible spasms of empathy. I was afraid I would stop breathing, or that Stef would keep on shaking, and then so would I. We would shake and shake and the fire would forget it was a fire. I would forget to balance, the blessings would wander off course, two dogs would be barking and we wouldn't know which one was meant to stop us or make us go.

Third Communion

2009-02-15T17:57:00.007-07:00

Communion was made of magic, again. Even though everyone was sick and had been for weeks, even though I'd recently suffered a dramatic flesh wound, and even though a little yappy dog named Dooley had kept us up the night before Communion went off like a charmed fireworks.

Piles of firewood delivered themselves to our door (with a little help from our friend Dave and his truck), guests arrived bearing bottles of wine and boxes of chocolates, accordians, violins, guitars and harmonicas crowded into our living room, people I had never met before introduced themselves to me in the kitchen, little boys fell asleep on the couch, fathers suggested songs their sons might play on the banjo, Dooley (the little terror) settled into Stef's lap and never uttered a sound.

There were harmonies, covers, sailor songs, kazoo accompaniments, gospel solos, instrumentals, and breif strange acappella moments. I was watching the fire and listening to a song about Albuquerque when it hit me. I am someone who lives in Albuquerque and invites people to play music in her living room. I was shocked for a moment observing what my life had conspired to do with itself!

After everyone had swept themselves out of the house I lay for a while sleepily and wine(ely) on the couch, then tucked myself into bed. I woke up and in the same moment opened my eyes to see the moon peeking in my window. Then I stumbled into the kitchen to find some water and noticed with the same bright moon clarity that it was 4:44 in the morning. Before finally falling alseep again I mused on magic.

SEE THE MAGIC.

My Hand, My Window, The Breaking

2009-02-15T13:31:00.003-07:00

Hey Edward Gorey, You're Really Great!

2009-02-09T23:08:00.002-07:00

Today I spent a lot of time drawing wallpaper because I want to have a yoga class at my house on Wednesday morning. Um. That is, I drew the person doing yoga and then added wallpaper thinking: so this is what Edward Gorey does/did. My my my. I learned today that drawing wallpaper is a lot like going on a spiritual-spacial complicating journey into lines, ink, and the tendons in your palm. I enjoyed it and yet it make me quake. And my wallpaper is a total mess. Edward Gorey drew excruciatingly detailed and perfect little backgrounds on many of his pieces. I think this might make him a shaman. A journeyer into a more than passive realm.

I salute you Edward Gorey.

2009-02-07T08:32:00.002-07:00