Wednesday, May 26, 2010


As much of it as I can remember, at any rate, and this is going back a ways, back before I really got good at remembering and mostly practiced forgetting, and as much of it as can be revealed without causing potential law suits to be given a mistrial and a de facto charge of perjury, and as much as is really necessary to answer your question, but not too much more, because over-sharing on an event like this could ruin our entire relationship, which is on pretty unsettled ground, anyway, with me not knowing you that well and you being rather eager to go off and follow, what?, your instincts or your ambitions or your vocation or the voices in your head, but besides these rather minor digressions and concerns and considerations, yes, of course I'll tell you the whole thing.

Trying to read Mauve Desert, by Nicole Brossard, but the problem with reading meta-fiction, especially before bed, is that it doesn't make any sense. And even though I write a fair bit of it, I'm the first person to admit that meta-fiction is actually much more fun to write than to read.

sundresses sandals straw hats

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Recipe for Work

The mix contains equal parts of the dreams of the very young, the ambitions of the adolescent, the quirks of fate, acts of god, perspiration, inspiration, dumb luck, self control, and self aggrandizement. Small but not undetectable amounts of delusion, perseverance, ready sources of cash, true love, well timed exits, reliable transportation, and quick thinking are necessary, but not in prescribed doses. The facility where all of the above is processed also processes dairy, wheat, eggs, peanuts, misconceptions, mistranslations, crashed hard drives, stolen glances, squeaky shoes, flat tires, lost notebooks, broken windows, soggy newspapers, bad haircuts, and missing shoelaces. Please be aware that the Food and Drug Administration had not tested, approved, or verified any of the claims made herein, whose risk lies wholly with the consumer.

sleeping. sleep sleep sleep

They promise spring. I hope they deliver.

Sunday, May 16, 2010


The cab reached the office tower, settled with the falsely optimistic once upon a middle manager, slid into the stream of cars heading north. The vendor on the corner didn't notice the middle aged man in a suit, a shadowy duplication of millions of middle aged men in suits, nor did he notice the cab, one of an army of cabs that patrolled the city. He served hot dogs and made change, and it was his first week as a hot dog vendor after years of selling pretzels, and he doubted the wisdom of his move. Hot dog customers were a finicky lot, wanting their mustard relish onion cheese just so, asking difficult questions about the meat: was it all beef? was it kosher? How the hell was he supposed to know? It was HOT DOG. What was kosher, any way, and if they cared so much, maybe they should start their own stand. And the pricing system he kept forgetting.

dipping into Aliens in the Prime of their Lives
bittersweet sunlight of departure

Saturday, May 15, 2010

a freshly washed day

On the river are small boys in neatly pressed sailor suits, their folded boats grasped proudly in one hand and their mother's aunts governess's, sometimes father's, grasped tightly in the other. The fathers stand, erect, uncomfortable, all too aware of their own childhood expeditions with nannies and paper boats that inevitably ended with running too close to the shore and slipping on a patch of mud and falling into the river, the shock of cold wet water and the surge of fear followed by the scolding of the nanny and the quick harsh look of disappointment in their father's eyes when they returned home, crisp sailor suit now covered in mud and disgraced beyond civil recognition, outward faults obliterated by hot baths and laundry soap, but the momentary scorn of failed expectations branded into memory.

"Human character ever more publishes itself. The most fugitive deed and word, the mere air of doing a thing, the intimated purpose, expresses character. If you act you show character; if you sit still, if you sleep, you show it."
Emerson -- Spiritual Laws
sun --> food --> sauna --> sleep --> sun --> yoga --> food --> sleep

habits of being

{May 14, 10}

The weekend began with six shoes, none of them pairs, lying underneath a pile of newspapers from thirty years ago bought en mass from a library book sale and intended to be turned into an entire flotilla of origami boats which would be filled with fortunes written in green crayon on slips of paper and then set alight with a kitchen match, the strike anywhere kind, and floated down the river as a pageant welcoming the arrival and promise of spring, and beside this unkempt stack of mismatched shoes and brittle yellow newspapers full of out of date stories of local interest was a paperback novel of no overwhelming interest cracked open upside down to the first page of chapter twelve, at which point the author had either had a drink too many or his wife had walked out of his life leaving behind nothing more than a half gallon of quietly souring milk and

Roald Dahl's Revolting Rhymes

a rainbow and its shadow over the hills!

Wednesday, May 12, 2010


By the age of fifteen, she had excelled equally in lace making, surgery, archaeological exploration, enameling, watercolor painting, race car driving; held the world record in error free words per minute typing and had performed at Carnegie Hall; was in therapy for addiction to video games and an artist of great renowned in extreme origami, and could make ice sculptures resemble any animal described or depicted. She drew illuminated manuscripts that were commissioned by the Vatican, and a rumor of her attendance of any event was sufficient to double fundraising levels.

still ploughing through Kafka on the Shore, every so often referencing the front flap copy that reads "this book has a happy ending."

well, it was spring; really, it was!

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

scales and arpeggios

The epitome of grace, agility, and beauty: the skiing Adagio Trio performs daily at Florida's Cypress Gardens.

They weren't always the Adagio Trio; they had started as the Largo Quartet, performing dances of grave gracefulness on the still waters, synchronized swimmers in the deep. They had trained with French mimes and with American dance companies and with the Canadian circus and at a musical academy in Austria, and each member of the Largo Quartet brought a sense of deep grounding and meaning to their performances, their interpretations of classical forms of movement hailed as nothing short of revolutionary, ground breaking, genre shattering, inspired, and challenging.

For a time the art world was abuzz with the output of this talented and intense foursome, and they became the darlings of a media desperate for sexy young things pushing boundaries in performance art. Each member of the Largo Quartet rotated through each of the character roles in each of the pieces, but as performances were improvisational events bearing the individualistic stamp of the intellect and the body and the passion of the specific performers, it was not so much that each member of the Quartet played the assigned role: more that they filtered through their core of being an impression of the suggested character, and let loose this entirely new presentation.

Kafka on the shore, Haruki Murakami

oh! warmth!

Monday, May 3, 2010

May Day! May Day!

After waking up on May Day with a champagne hangover (always the best sort to have), the calendar began to click along, declaring spring, socialism, and book arts!

(Don't forget the upcoming afternoon of mustaches, martinis, bocce, & lilacs | Sunday : May 9, 2010 : 2 p.m.)

This month's artist's book group will take our percolating ideas, and serve them out in coffee cups!

This month's announcement (thanks, Meredith!)
Is it possible that it's May already? And today even felt like August! Time has flown right up to the next meeting for our Artists' Book group.
I look forward to seeing you this Thursday evening! Come at 6:30 for an easy potluck (last time we had plenty of food, so don't worry if you don't have time to make/buy anything--come anyway), or at 7:00 to turn the conversation to books. Bring whatever you've got, whether a vague notion or a project in process.

In my studio the projects are all based on words, words, words, quite literally, as everything that is in for both repair and for alteration is a dictionary, or a book about a dictionary. The Johnson's Project is finally nearing something resembling completion, and the set book for the upcoming GBW competition is that of my friend and mentor: so I'll be doing a test binding on a printing of the first edition, then the final binding on the GBW copies. Words indeed!

Rapt : attention and the focused life / Winifred Gallagher
up to a six mile jog! now to get the miles up to ten and the time under seven. and to no longer be terrified of the bicycle.