Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Welcome, year of the ox. Be kind to snakes; we're tired.

i-ching: Your symbol is Hexagram 39, getting stopped. Inability to take the next step is delaying progress. Seek help from a wise person, then apply your own sincerity to the situation.

In process artist's book project: letterpress printed esoteric curses, with the goal of renewing the art of imprecation {available as a set, business-card sized}.

A burnt hand, a sliced thumb, a bleeding finger, a snowed in car, now covered in a thick coat of solid ice, and the beginning of tax season. Tell me about the weather.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009


Cause:Sailing in a protected cove without a life vest.

A thoroughly unexpected and unseasonal typhoon descends upon the region, throwing one from the boat, destroying the coastline, and disturbing the nesting plovers.
In extraordinary circumstances, boat is turned into firewood, but manage to survive by clutching at one plank and miraculously landing in a tree. Convert to one of the world's four major religions out of gratitude, and spend the rest of one's life on a pilgrimage to holy sites for sailors.

Dabble in online scrabble as a means of increasing one's skills against one's aunt and brother.

Switch to high stakes Texas Hold 'Em for the thrill of the higher pay-offs, and retire from a job as an administrative secretary in a pharmaceutical company to live off one's earnings from the game.
In extraordinary circumstances, skip future family holidays to play at poker championships throughout the world.

performance schedules for the area / sparse indeed in January

When the weather man stated "lows around 5 or 6 above," what I heard was "5 or 6 above freezing;" it was only later that I realized it was "5 or 6 above zero." Ah, delusional optimism. Only four more months of winter!

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Portus Cale

A world circumscribed by the market on Wednesdays, the fresh fish, the gossip at the butcher's, the attendance of Mass, a weekly afternoon ladies' tea, the calendar and the map formed by a host of small details, woven so tightly together that the outside world disappears. When some ambitious boy tears through the net, breaks free, the villagers are simultaneously impressed with his bravery, his ambition, while feeling rejected, discarded. When a girl departs, it is even more difficult to allow her to leave, to water her resolutely turn towards the city or a man and fall into the reach of the treacherous worldliness awaiting her.
But for the sons! The tears of heartbreak mixed with the swelling of appreciation, leading to this one point: the moment of return, for a week, for a month, for a year; for Christmas or to raise a family; the moment to judge the man who returned against the boy who went away.

reading many Dover pattern books

weather cold cold cold

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

a homeless goldfish

She could learn the schedules and habits of the break rooms, the smoking room, the security guards. She could exchange the sugar for salt, short circuit the vending machines, shut down the photocopiers; she could never attend another meeting and still appear to be working harder than ever. Or she could return to her desk for another round of solitaire, a conversation of soul-numbing stupidity, a complaint about the coffee.
She was still in the elevator. Colleagues, strangers, interviewees entered, silencing their conversations when in groups, becoming intimate strangers for the duration of the one floor or five or ten that they ascended. They were unfailingly, exceedingly polite to other occupants, people they would avoid under any circumstances excepting the alternative reality of the elevator, where they would nod, and travel companionably between floors, joined in a moment of complete dependence upon the technology of transportation.

reading The West Indies and the Spanish Main / by Anthony Trollope
weather four inches of frozen slush covered with a blanket of snow
{all disdainfully plowed, partially melted, and refrozen}