Lately I have been salving my existential scrapes with poems and new music, and finding that both just increase that feeling of dread that always nips at my heels and keeps my mind running running tripping in the alley running. People have asked me recently if I am happy and I find myself unable to even consider that question without hinging it on a cascade of qualifiers. My gut reaction is of course I’m happy,…
I’ve already recounted this harrowing tale here at the BSMF blog. The only thing I wish to add is this: Is there any irony in a band that’s straight edge and vegetarian and super into PETA encouraging its crowd to beat the shit out of each other? No irony? Just dumb? Okay. Oh and one more thing. When I was recounting this story to my mom today, she was, of course, horrified (and relayed the…
So Randal has a post up about memory-mapping, which is a concept I just love because I am constantly trying to grab onto ways to bank my memories before my brain kicks them out or muddies them too much, so and I have jumped on board with all my baggage and made my own memory map. It’s just such a lovely little concept, I think, to find yourself combing over topography and allowing specific memories…
I was walking in my parents’ yard Monday afternoon and just happened to see a four-leaf clover. I don’t know how. I just saw it. I kneeled down and plucked it, and then spotted a ladybug perched on a blade of grass. And then saw another four-leaf clover right beside it. I left that one for someone else to find. I spent some time in the grass, just kinda breathing and thinking, then got up…
These invisible tethers that keep us in each other’s lives, that keep our feet on the ground and our tongues tied — where do they come from? Who put them there? I had a dream once where I was out in a sun-flecked meadow, and suddenly the wind caught me and lifted me into the air like a kite and wouldn’t let me down. I sailed over the meadow, rising higher and higher, bound to…
Programming Note: This week I’m challenging myself to shoot only with my fixed 50mm lens, since I rarely ever use it. Let’s see how long that lasts! March is racing past us at a clip I’m uncomfortable with, and 2009 so far has kicked my ass in ways both good and bad. Last year was complete and all-encompassing madness from March until June, and it seems like that’s going to be the case again this…
Recuperation complete. I packed a lot of awesome into one little day. Slept nine glorious hours, went to the gym and got the endorphins pumping, took my lunch to the park down by the river and read The White Tiger on a blanket while the wind whipped the world into a subdued frenzy around me. Then I had some chips and white cheese dip and some margaritas, went home to book chat, and then hauled…
I’ve lived in this apartment for three years, and I’ve still got a bit of a puppy-love crush on my little Midtown building. I spend a lot of time taking pictures in and of it, really for no one else but myself, so that when I move on to another place (assuming that might ever happen), I’ll be able to remember every nook and cranny that this current life inhabits, for better or for worse.…
So it’s not quite as easy on the eardrums as the far more common fifth-of-November trope, but everyone remembers the fifth of November. Why can’t the ninth of January get a little love? Sure, it exists in that no man’s land between New Year’s Day and Valentine’s Day, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important. In the sense that every day you’re not dead is important, I guess. I figure anyone’s life can be judged…
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