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

Skydiver (TDFSTN Part 2)

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

Stealing the Saw

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

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...

...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

to go on tour...

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