PAPERMONSTER update

My friend Victor Garcia is doing amazing things with his art work! Please check it out!

www.papermonster.org

He's also released a skateboard deck!

You can check out more details and download pictures of pieces in the show by visiting:::
http://papermonster.wordpress.com

There, you will find upcoming shows and projects including a laser cut skateboard which you can view pictures of here:
http://flickr.com/photos/5280lasers/2808499681/

at the museum

1
Statues of archaic figures with
almond eyes hover above a diffusing crowd,
much like storm clouds do in springtime.
I have rewritten their language to be my own.
Clinging my belongings as they spill
over my weak half nelson, I appear to some
as a bag lady, some as an Olympian.
The clicking of my too-tight-shoes
grows loftier as I make my way down the corridor,
and the stare of some Doryphorus burns itself
some place between my shoulder blades.
Athens rests upon my lips here, it is
sweet and the scent of Cyprus, of clay,
of dry air -- it is all the heaviness
of the Gigantomachy on the Temple of Zeus
in Berlin, and it stings my sinuses.

2
These many words have not been translated,
not to me and everybody knows it, even the guards
in all of their hand me down shirts.
In some other hall or gallery a thousand
Madonnas line the walls, the pietas
sag and melt like molten steel -- she
sinks low and slow like blackstrap molasses,
or like some Herb who's reluctant to speak up.
This is my thirteenth time visiting this wing,
which is why the Mother's behaving this way.
It's tricking and I got it.

3
In the darkness of the third floor
I'm noticed by a woman of about ninety,
the thick lines of pragmatism hide in her face.
She picks my scarf up off the floor, looks up,
her bright eyes the like the hole in the Pantheon.
I imagine scooping them out like soft pearls
and fashioning a necklace to see forever with.
Shade thanks the woman for her keffiyeh,
then continues down the hallway in silence.
She will go on knowing the woman is
only steps behind her and will think
about the years between them, all of
the miles and countries that make
her a girl in her twenties and
the woman unknowable.

4
I lean against the salty marble wall,
wrapped in shivering coldness chattering
teeth that could provoke an earthquake.
In nomini Patri... In the name of the father,
I mumble this while all the saints and sinners mock me.
The legends here have their place on the wall,
I am their outsider getting drenched
in their laughter and finding my
way back into the crowd.

reckless, depraved, and bitter

Tonight is the season 2 premier of Californication, one of my most favorite shows ever. Nevermind the articulate (yet pithy at times) dialogue, picturesque setting, or the bittersweet Hollywood hopefulness, oh and the youngest daughter from The Nanny's boobs popping up every once in a while -- I'm entranced by David Duchovny's transformation from almost character actor (can we remember Evolution? that was him, wasn't it?) into -- BRACE YOURSELF -- David Duchovny basically acting like himself. An intelligent, super awesome, slightly pessimistic, ridiculously sex driven "power" male... oh throw in the fact that he is the type of writer in the show I'd love to be and we basically have a match made in heaven. Never watched X-Files, don't know which is Mulder or Scully, but I can say this... since Twin Peaks, you've come a long way baby!

honesty. honest tea.

While working at an organic food store I became reacquainted with my love for Honest Tea of all flavors. Moroccan Mint Green, Assam Black, First Nation Peppermint, Just Black, Just Green, Pearfe"ct White, and Community Green Tea (with Maltese Orange essence!) -- just to name a few. Anyhow, much like the famed Snapple caps, the makers of Honest Tea have included what I find quite interesting quotes underneath the lid of each delicious bottle. I began to compile a collection of the quotes, and I see no better time than now to share them:

"In all things of nature, there is something of the marvelous." -Aristotle

"The person who knows how to laugh at himself will never cease to be amused." -Shirley MacLaine

"Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it." -Confucius

"The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others." -Ghandi

"The first human being who hurled an insult instead of a stone was the founder of civilization." -Sigmund Freud

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees under whose shade you do not expect to sit." -Nelson Henderson

"I would rather regret the things I have done than the things I have not." -Lucille Ball

"Never hope more than you work." -Rita Mae Brown

"To bend a bamboo, start when it is a shoot." -Malaysian Proverb
Abraham Maslow

"He who throws mud only loses ground." -Fat Albert (umm, ok)

"The bad news: there is no key to the universe. The good news: it was never locked." -Swami Beyondananda

right now

Little Bit by Lykke Li from the album Youth Novel

my brother's morning playlist

I had a Zooey Deschanel in Almost Famous moment during my family's Jeopardy and countertop dinner last night. As most of my friends know, we have this really great nook off of our kitchen which provides a nice place to eat dinner but for some reason my family is more apt to sit around the island in our kitchen and eat dinner there amongst the yammering of Sam Waterston on Law and Order, or the obnoxious voice of Alex Trebek. Anyways, this moment made me proud to be a sister. My brother decided to share with me the music he listened to on his way to school (he's a high school junior)... nonetheless this completed me. On a rainy morning on a bus filled with really lame wannabe fitted hat wearing "gangstas" he tuned them out first listening to Blinded by the Lights by the Streets. He was "super into the hook" and Mike Skinner's stream of consciousness writing... little did he know about the ecstasy driven storyline, but awesome still. What was even more fascinating was that he said he didn't even know he had this on his iPod, and so he listened to the first five tracks of the album. We dished about this for a bit. He moved himself into some Black Moth Super Rainbow and (the to be expected) Broken Social Scene... starts droppin' bombs on me about Nas and how he's lyrically misunderstood, talking about subtle nuances and shit. I'm like, when I was 16 I moped, wore lots of black, and listened to the Cure. I would have talked about how Robert Smith was a misunderstood lyricist and how the album Disintegration changed my life. I wasn't nearly as insightful... didn't know who Mike Skinner was.

guten morgen!

Somehow yesterday I was transformed into this half-a-pack-a-day smoke coming out of my ears no sleep till Brooklyn type of narcissist. After that wine induced night I woke in my bed after a series of bizarre dreams -- like, I was tripping on mushrooms on my old campus, a ridiculously heavy backpack strapped to myself, and all of my middle school nemeses were there -- pissed at myself for leaving the window open again because my throat hurts and the fan was already on. I'm a sucker for listening to storms as I try to fall asleep but I'm forgetting we're punching into fall and summer is long gone. My sufficient enough weekend was bumped up to a 4-day weekend yesterday when office manager Betty called me to say they were closing the Arts Center because of (potential) power outages. I'm feeling lazy and thin this morning, sleep gunk half gluing my eyelids shut, hands shaking like a wino's would. My room needs to be cleaned, it's vomiting itself up again. I'm trapped inside a toddler who can't hold his animal crackers... so I guess I have something to do today.

no. 52

The ground feels the same
underneath our feet, I'm sure,
though there seems to be more of
it between us these days.
My skin is pink on the nape
of my neck where the sun
hits me on my way to work,
and I'm sure that on some
afternoons you feel it too,
puckered, soft, and flushed.
Sleep must be the same,
perhaps, with constant
tossing, turning, churning...
For my mind can't rest when
it thinks of you or the way
your glasses rest upon your ears.
The lines connecting you and I
are long and thin and taut,
and I know you're there
pulling me back and forth
like some childhood game
I've forgotten about.

sleep tight, tiger

First I would like to say that I have loved this album since I first got it back in 2005. It reminds me of the many summer nights spent with special people driving up and back Absecon Island with nothing but the sweet taste of innocence fleeting from our lips. I realized while driving the other night my affinity for Swedish music. Lykke Li, PB&J, Husky Rescue, Jose Gonzalez, Belle and Sebastian, (and I believe) Camera Obscura among others and others and others. But these have been on my list for frequent listening as of late. While musically (at least) have managed to cling to the past -- Otis Redding make me want to locate a time machine and pick out my 'fro -- I have started to cling to other things... like my love of what is basically a 9 to 5 schedule, the sound of my heels clicking against the tile floor while I walk up to my office in the morning--coffee in hand, wearing pencil skirts, and research assignments though I've always sort of enjoyed those. I wake and retire to my bed both in early hours. I like things this way. My life is becoming ever so simple. I don't seek to change it any time soon.

public transportation

I'm perpetually amazed and bewildered by the New York City subway system. I love feeling somewhat in the company of others but completely alone. I forgot to mention this.

take offs and landings?

I have been pondering what difference there really is between an arrival and a return. We look at the two each as very separate things, and there is significant emotional weight to each. After a great effort to keep myself sane while in transit for some hours over the weekend, I am here -- barely alive and well (at least yesterday) -- to tell the tale. Friday night was my big return to the Drew campus and New York City as well. It had been months (since graduation) since I had been back and I must say it was delightful having some handfuls of people happily waiting to greet me in each place. I think of the aforementioned terms as arrival meaning what it traditionally means, and returns as a departure I suppose. Arrivals and returns to places one doesn't call home come with much anticipation, the return home is oftentimes dreaded or a sad experience. I'm actually not sure what to make of any of this now. You can always go home, but wherever you visit won't always be the same.

things

Eucharist

My knees are chapped and bruised
from kneeling before you, an unnamed
god that I sacrifice my insides for.

To keep you close I must take you in,
holding you tight to my chest like an idol,
quaking and rocking as though entranced in prayer.

My forehead and lips burn with devotion
where you have anointed me.
It is here you have delivered me from the others.

You come, my sweet, motionless and sacred.
You go, restless and afraid.
Oh my darling full of grace, redeem me.


The Mighty Oak

There are roots,
thick and heavy roots
that clench themselves
to the driest soil.
They twist and turn
into complex shapes,
rigid and unforgiving.
No one can climb here
for the branches are brittle.
The bark is tough and remains
untouched for fear of tearing
skin, its been split in patches
by the curious, the few who've
tasted the tenderness within.
It may be because this tree
is filled with ancient secrets,
ghostly whispers fill its arms,
as they reach toward the skies.
It is silly to think
one should even try to reach
the top, it'd be easier
just to slip inside,
sleep a while.

darling,

if all of the

stress
pangs
heartbreak
years
years
years
disgust
confusion
desperation
vulnerability
anxiety
and desire

were for this one single moment in time,



so fucking be it.

Youth Novel

It has been brought to my attention (needless to say I've been aware of it for a while) that I have stopped updating here. I've stopped writing in general. If not for a general lack of interesting things to say or "blogworthy" topics, then just out of sheer laziness and the unwillingness to explore my own head. Since my hiatus I've started a new job, a real one in fact that my $200,000 education "prepared" me for. It's at the Ocean City Arts Center and it's so good that I'm quitting my other job. Remember? The nonsensical one that I have recently discovered to be littered with roaches, rats, and termites among crotchety old, impatient, stank-breathed customers. I'm turning my back on organic fruits and veggies as well as strange and bizarre meatless meats for something worlds better... for now.



I have found myself to be transforming into a small town girl with a big city heart and attitude of sorts, talking about my past life and future goals as what drag queens from the 1950s would refer to as a career girl (and I hope my hidden reference to the movie To Wong Foo...Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar was apparent, and if not it is now). Anyways, I notice that I have begun to say things like "I'm due in at the office" more frequently and something about having a job where my brain remains in my head for 6+ hours certainly tickles me... where it tickles me I'm not sure but just know I'm laughing about it.

Someone out there somewhere is reading this, so do me the favor of giving me something I should write about. I feel myself lapsing back into the LiveJournal style of recapping my days. And even I don't care much about that.