sketchbook number one

it has been a while

2009-07-18T11:40:00.000-07:00

on a completely unrelated note.
this is my friend anita. she lives in spain.
she was the size of a dinner plate.

this past week i have been relaxing and enjoying a ten day vacation. no school no work no obligations no commitments (except the good kind). it has been marvelous. country fair was a great way to start the hiatus, and since then i have been cleaning up and organizing things around my new home. the car port now aka the pirate party port is completed. i installed privacy curtains and shutters, and wendy and i hung up all her pirate flags. the ping pong table is in a good locale, and there is a bbq area for get-togethers. pictures to come.

the basement is also coming along quite nicely. the sewing/craft/art area is coming along slowly but surely. that is the next thing on my list to complete. i tidied up the tv room downstairs so its more comfy to hang out in. dan helped me move my orange couch out from my room and into the tv room. the smaller part of the sectional now makes up a good portion of the breakfast nook that was also installed this week. i got a lot of positive things done this week. woo hoo!

2009-06-27T23:06:00.000-07:00

me and dan and MOTHER EFFIN' BEN FOLDS!!!!!!!

my life-long dream realized.

2009-06-23T21:03:00.000-07:00

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

summer agenda and project goals

2009-06-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

by the end of the summer i am hoping
to have the following things accomplished:
finish dolls completely
write a song
work more on illustration and drawing
i want to do a collection of family portrait drawings
as well as an illustrated short story or narrative
i would also like to try making a movie
or two...or three

eli just introduced me to the work of lucy knisley i am so smitten! her breadth of knowledge and ability to experiment with different mediums is so inspiring. i am definitely interested in exploring different mediums in a similar way i want to work more on constant creativity and working through 'dry spells'- experimentation and breadth of practice could really aid in this, i think.

this video she made makes me feel warm.

...and she's the one playing the ukulele!

her website is really cool and i'm so impressed with the quantity of work she has made already (she's 24!) not to mention the quality is beautiful. and adorable and funny. i want to collaborate with people like this!!!

the end of the spring term oh-nine.

2009-06-14T17:10:00.000-07:00

exhibit a:
working at the sewing station

i just finished uploading some pictures of stuff that i made this past term.
some of it is completed, and some of it is still in progress.
if you have feedback on the work please let me know!

my ukulele class at beverly cleary!

2009-05-20T17:39:00.001-07:00

fresh band pic.
album out soon.

it's been a while.

2009-05-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

here are some images of artwork that i have been looking at lately.

feminist collage artists, dadaist collage artists and printmakers, aboriginal designs and patterns. i'm thinking about starting some paintings soon...but i'm also feeling quite intimidated by painting at the moment. see sketchbook number two for more detailed information.

i feel discouraged.

2009-04-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

please watch this video. share it with your friends.

doll series, advanced printmaking

2009-04-09T21:37:00.001-07:00

on the left, plans for the housewife in a box

others in the series will include:

-breadwinner in a box

-first born son action figure

-the other child doll

-the accident action figure

accessories sold separately

batteries not included

please visit our website for more information! (coming soon)

and on the right is the beginning of a sketch of the structure of a grass root

collagraph, etchings, and possibly lithograph print to be made

another blog born last week

2009-04-06T11:59:00.000-07:00

i've started another blog for the contemporary studio practices class i'm taking this term. i'm still not really sure yet how these two blogs are going to work together...i might just use them interchangeably. anyway, here's the link to sketchbook number two if you're interested.

i found this

2009-03-20T23:55:00.000-07:00

this is a video of a shins concert i went to a couple years ago

they did a really amazing cover of pink floyd and i almost peed

but i didn't get a video of it!

this is another pretty cool video though.

i had a party this weekend

2009-03-16T20:41:00.000-07:00

good things:

it was really cool

everyone i invited showed up

i got in-toxi-cat-ed

it seemed like everyone was having fun

i was having fun

not so good things:

a broken tumbler

"kelsey"

no more whisky

sticky-ass floors from spilled white russians everywhere

i passed out far too early

there will be pictures coming soon.

and a video!

from my friends at school

2009-03-16T20:27:00.000-07:00

some advice for the characters of horror movies

as said by trenton, age 11

"three rules

1) do not go anywhere alone

2)do not go into the woods EVER

3)if you go into the woods and are with somebody, don't start making out because i assure you, some guy with a chainsaw will jump out."

"oh yeah, and

4)don't be a dummy!" (freddie said this part)

i fucking love my job.

this conversation all came about during an impromptu game of speed pictionary with the kids. speed pictionary is like regular pictionary except there are no teams the game just moves around in a circle, one person writing down a clue, the other person drawing it, and at least 2 other people guessing what is being drawn. there's no winning or points its all just for a shit ton of fun. there was also a continuous game being played at the party at my house the other night.

observe:

"monopoly man on crack"

written by grace drawn by dan

life lessons from ben

2009-03-13T14:21:00.000-07:00

"You know, I've been around the block a few times and I like to dispense my good wisdom. Like Pez." -Ben

i feel like i'm flailing around quickly.

2009-03-10T11:51:00.000-07:00

i've begun missing sanity.

where did you go?

i thought we were friends.

if i were better at poetry that would have been a haiku.

let me try again.

oh where did you go?

sanity, are not we friends?

come back to me please.

addicted to blogging?

2009-03-05T03:08:00.001-08:00

click on these to enlarge.

"some important information concerning the non-institutional instruction of others"

pen and ink drawings

$400,000.00 each

this is a series i did for my drawing class.

myth and memoir

2009-03-04T13:05:00.000-08:00

God told me this story once and I have never forgotten it…

In the beginning there was nothing. Day and night did not exist. The vast space between nothings was overwhelming. In those first few moments before things existed, God sat wondering to himself about all the things he wouldn’t be able to do anymore with a new planet to watch over. He was getting bored with all the other creatures and planets and galaxies he had created, but, the god of the entire universe, he couldn’t just abandon them or leave them to rot. No, he would create a new planet, an exciting planet, one that was full of entertaining beings and exciting landscapes.

“That’s just what I need,” his voice boomed out. “Some company for myself.” On the first day, God created Earth and everything that was not Earth he called the Heavens. He separated light from dark and called them day and night. The water and the land ebbed and erupted apart, and the vast expanses of emptiness above were called sky.

“Now for my favorite part!” God chuckled excitedly. “Everything on this new planet Earth shall be green and lush and teeming with new life. Everything.” And so it was. That day God pressed his fingers into the ground and pushed his life into the soil. Grass and shoots and leaves began pouring out of the ground and upward into the sky. There were shrubs of every shape and trees as tall as the heavens. But God wasn’t done quite yet. God then leapt down from the heavens and onto the land. He dove into the ocean. He made himself larger and pushed his entire body into every stream and lake and creek. He let the life inside him seep out of his pores and into all the water. Now the water was alive too.

The question then became, what was to become of the land? God was tired after all this creating and so he decided to sleep. What God didn’t anticipate was a slumber that lasted for trillions of what he came to call years on Earth. When he woke up, there were already things moving around on the land he had made. There were small things and big things, things with four legs and things with four hundred legs. The atmosphere was murky now and things looked quite different from when he had left them. Of all the creatures that had evolved into the land, none was anything like what God had wanted for himself. So God decided to create just one more creature. This creature would be different from all the rest. It would walk on two legs instead of four or more and with time its species would be able to do magnificent things. God picked up a handful of Earth and held it in his hand. He looked at it carefully and thought with all his might about two legs and two arms and two hands and two feet and there it was before him. God decided to call it Man.

Man just walked around the Earth at first. He rolled around in the dirt and ate everything he saw, even though most of it made him sick. God knew that Man didn’t really understand the world yet, so God decided to make him a companion, one that would know the ways of the land and understand the magnificence of Earth. So while Man slept, God decided that he would just use some of the first model he had made, in order to save some time. Slowly but surely God extracted a rib from Adam and set it on the ground next to him. He moved his wise palms over the rib and helped it come to life. This new companion looked different from Man. Its figure was softer and rounder, its hair longer and more beautiful. God decided to call it Woman, because it came from Man.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever created. You are more beautiful than the sun and the moon, more beautiful than the evening stars.” I knew he wasn’t lying, I knew by the way he looked at my skin and at my shoulders. I remember looking over at Man sleeping loudly and drooling, and then I looked at God and he asked me “What can you say, little one?” My mind was huge. There were so many things around me that didn’t have names yet and didn’t have contexts. “What is this? What are those? Can I eat this? How does this work? Where did I come from? Where did you come from? What am I? What do I do?” I looked at God and asked these questions earnestly.

“Ah,” he said. “It seems I have made a grave mistake.” God said looking confused and somewhat solemn. “You, my young one, were meant to be a helper; someone who could assist Man in his many endeavors. But you have more inside your head than Man does.” God seemed disappointed in himself. “How can you be smarter and more beautiful than the creature I created in my own image?” This made me feel even more different and alone. God knew that I had to stay, and so he told me about the lands and the waters and the other creatures living on the Earth. He told me stories of other planets and his adventures in the universe he created with some of his friends. Then he told me about the garden. The garden existed close to where the two of us were talking. God pointed to the garden and told me,

“That is the Garden of Eden. All of the trees and plants in the garden are fruitful and will feed you when you are hungry. You can eat from all the botanicals in the garden except one. You must not eat the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden, or even touch it, for you will surely die.” I thought this was strange even then, but I find it more strange now. I asked God about this,

“God, why, in this beautiful world that you created, why would you put a tree in it that would make us surely die? What is so dangerous about this one tree that has such handsome fruit? Why—” God stopped me.

“You mustn’t ask questions, my child.” And that was that. God returned to the heavens after that.

The days and the weeks and the months passed by and time with Man was becoming painfully boring. For days on end, Man would eat and sleep and defecate, but he still couldn’t speak, and often enjoyed rolling around in the mud. God wanted me to “lie down with man” and have children and raise them up, but I wasn’t ready to do that yet. I didn’t want to raise Man’s children, Man couldn’t even take care of himself and I wasn’t about to be pregnant alone. I wanted to learn more and to explore and to know everything about this beautiful place we were living. So one day I decided to explore the garden. Of course I wanted to know about this one tree with the condemned fruit, and so I approached it. The tree was tall and hearty, its branches sturdy and impressive. The leaves provided such nice shade and smelled sweet. Hanging from each branch was a fat and swollen fruit that looked delicious in all its pink and red color. I wondered what the fruit was like, but I knew that it was forbidden to eat it. Then, quite by accident, I stepped backward onto the tail of a large worm. Or at least that’s what it looked like to me. The worm started speaking to me.

“Oh don’t mind me! I’m just here tending the trees. Go about your business.” How strange, I thought, that a worm could talk to me. I had never met a talking one before. “Ah, admiring the tree of knowledge, are we? Yes, it is a beautiful tree. Genus maleaes, species pyrus. And the fruit is spectacular.”

“The tree of knowledge? Is that what you called it? What is the tree of knowledge? Can you tell me all about it?”

“The tree of knowledge, my dear, is something magnificent indeed. The leaves have healing powers and the bark is stronger than all others. The fruit is the most excellent though, for when you eat it you will know everything. You will know the difference between good and bad.” Who wouldn’t want to know the difference? And besides, a little of that fruit in Man’s belly and we could carry on a decent conversation. I quickly thanked the worm and plucked a few of the ripest fruits from the tree, and went back to share with Man.

When he saw me with such beautiful fruit he was overjoyed. He ate all of it before I could even taste it. I waited with anticipation as his face went pale and he looked at me with disgust,

“What have you done to me?! Why are we naked? You tricked me!” Man was furious, but I knew that he would thank me with time. How could he not thank me? I gave him the gift of knowledge. But just as quickly as I had shared my bounty, God leapt down and was walking amongst us, looking for Man. Feeling ashamed, he hid behind a fig tree, not wanting to be noticed. God found him anyway.

“Did you eat from the tree in the middle of the garden?” God asked patiently.

“She made me do it! She tricked me! That evil bitch. After all I’ve done for her!” Man was irate. He called me names that I had never heard before. I didn’t understand why he was so upset and why the knowledge he had was angry knowledge and evil knowledge.

“Is this true?” God asked me, his eyes piercing me.

Well, to a degree it was true. I didn’t trick him, he was just too stupid to say no. All I had really wanted was for Man to talk to me and crave to learn like me and take notice of the beauty of the Earth just as I had. Working up all the courage I had inside me, I said honestly and clearly,

“I just wanted him to be more like me.”

made during the inaugural address

2009-03-03T18:49:00.000-08:00

this is an image of a mindmap that i made for my drawing class. i know its kind of cheesy but i had a lot of fun making it and have been experimenting with the method of mindmapping as a way of communicating more abstract ideas. more later.

twenty seven or twenty eight geese

2009-03-03T13:37:00.000-08:00

we were crawling along on the freeway and as i usually do on longer car trips or bus trips or bike trips or anything i listen to npr. the days are getting a little bit longer now and i can make the drive to see dan in full daylight and very little traffic. today felt strange to me though. you know how sometimes when a storm is about to happen, especially a portland metro oregon storm, you can kind of feel it on your forearms and smell it when its windy out? that's what it felt like earlier. the air was cool and moist and the fresh drops of rain were tepid and fat. when the sun disappeared over the hill i could see the storm moving toward me, or rather, i to it.

at that moment, that one single moment when the darkest cloud appeared over the horizon line, i looked up and to the right and watched as all the summer geese gone south for winter were flying up high in a crooked capital a shape pointed north. i was so happy to see them. elated even. finally.

just a few weeks ago i was on the bus, as i usually am on most mornings with all the other mid-morning commuters into downtown, and i noticed something that made me feel happier than i had been in weeks. every morning that i ride the bus i like to scope out the seats before i actually sit down. i'm pretty sure everyone else does the same thing because most mornings i get on the bus and notice that there are lots of empty seats but they are all aisle seats or in the handicapped area which makes me uncomfortable to sit in.

the morning i got so sit by the window all the way from point a to point b i noticed the trees. i had been waiting and hoping that soon they would be breathing again and that soon they would be bright and alive again but every day left me hoping. this day was different. i looked at the trees and followed their hips to their shoulders out to their arms and through to their fingertips that had started glowing a quiet pink.

finally it is here.

2009-03-02T13:18:00.000-08:00

this is a drawing i made explaining the different names for skateboarding stances.

2009-03-02T10:09:00.000-08:00

earlier in the week while the rain was pit pit pitter pattering on the roof and I was sitting there just sitting there staring out the big window four times my size, i started crying. it was soft at first just a tear or two on each cheek, and I could hide it when I tried, but then within a few mere minutes it started pouring and I couldn't stop it or hide it, it was just kind of messy and my face was all damp and sticky.

the little tiny person (i imagine him to be a little boy with a tiny red-and-cream striped shirt and little blue pants that fit him just so and a head of blonde hair that falls to the right on his forehead) walks back and forth between the front of the line and the back of the line as a ghost might do when deciding whether or not he or she would like to make an entrance. the little boy is quiet and all he wants is to be held because his mother is missing and he feels so lonely here. the boy is walking up slowly to the front now timidly creeping along checking every quite often to make sure that no one notices him or is following him and he tippy toes into somewhere

in the middle.

this tiny little boy lives inside of my stomach, well, he actually lives closer to my intestines because this is where I imagine him at. he doesn't talk to me very much except to ask me where he can find a cookie or if he can please go to the bathroom because he's about to wet his pants. i try to tell him every time that he doesn't have to ask all he has to do is imagine the things that he wants and they will exist. he can have whatever he wants.

he wants something very badly right now.

i think we'll meet him soon.

life assignment #1

2009-02-27T13:40:00.000-08:00

go to this link and read the instructions for the following assignments: 47, 53, or 61. pick one that you like, complete it, and e-mail me your results. i'll post what i get here.

things that are hidden: 1

2009-02-23T19:42:00.001-08:00

behind my subconscious all tangled up in the matters at hand I can feel Thing. it comes from the center the white hot middle of nowhere and the tangles upon tangles hard metal tangles hide away the Thing. it is growing now already it has grown a lot and now I can feel it swelling expanding pushing squeezing trying to burst its rottenness all over the tangles. Thing isn't rotten really it just feels rotten feels hot and cold and angry and sad and wants to wants to it just really wants to be free and fly away and just perch itself on another set of tangles, a soft set of tangles made from yarn and silk stockings. it wants to perch on something far away but not far enough away that it can't watch the things that happen after its free. it wants to observe.

mostly just observe and not be a part.

a piece

2009-02-23T19:36:00.000-08:00

My brain feels numb tired
click click click
around in circles clicking out of place
moving forward moving backward
mechanically producing
shit
just shit
all of it shit
gears snug in their corners
and pieces
clicking around clicking
clicking clicking always tinking
tink tock
tiny whispers from small machines
tinking tirelessly watching nothing
doing nothing
really
just machining mechanizing
clicking tinking
working

2009-01-21T22:59:00.000-08:00

I feel like in order for me to make art that is finished and successful and complete I would have to give up virtually everything else in my life. Work is a waste of time, especially when you have two jobs that pay nothing and demand a high quality of output. School is starting to be a waste of time. What am I learning? Some things, but not as much as I would like. I have no time to create or be creative its all about the old nose to the grindstone attitude, the attitude that has led me straight into therapy. I'm so overwhelmed I can barely think straight and writing it down makes it real and helps me get my thoughts straight. Work, school, work, printmaking, Lincoln portfolio exchange, Southern Graphics Print Conference, grant proposal, these are the things that "artists" deal with. Minus the school part. Unless you're a grad student, and then most of your time in school is actually spent working on something meaningful. What's the point? It feels like every other day someone says or subtly implies that art is worthless in the "real world" and what are you going to do with a degree in art anyway? MAKE ART, motherfucker. What are you going to do with that business degree? Or that math degree or science degree or english degree? Start a business, be a teacher, be a teacher, be a teacher. The only thing that our society values is money and the capitalist system that governs it. The reason no one in this culture values art is because it is seen as invaluable to society and thus removed from the realm of "legitimate jobs." The reason so many people are getting business degrees is because it is quickly becoming the only area of study that proves to be lucrative after graduation. I love being creative and making art so much, it is so much a part of me that I can barely describe it sometimes. Why would anyone create a society where happiness is deemed a hobby and rewards such as 'happiness' are supposed incentives to work hard, make a lot of money, and live the "American Dream" whatever the fuck that is. I am sick and tired of being told that art isn't valuable in the "real world." Does that mean then that everything I have worked so hard to make in my field isn't legitimate because it can't be quantified in monetary or scientific terms? Fuck that. The reason that creativity isn't rewarded in this society is because it is seen as something that is disposable, something transient, something elusive, and something trivial. As a woman and as an artist the path I have chosen is going to be especially difficult. As a woman, I am trivialized anyway, constantly under the scrutiny of others as defined by my biology. And as an artist, I will be further patronized because of art's inability to be calculable, measurable, and concrete. I am angry about this (obviously), but I know that I have every right to be. My passion and life blood is being misconstrued as invaluable. It is not invaluable. Its value is imeasurable.

21 may 2008

2008-11-27T18:10:00.002-08:00

The rain lit up the pavement.

The smell of the sky had indicated it was eminent. The lights on the freeway lined up like a string and rolled down the hills. My brain would start stop start every few seconds and remind me of things I didn't really want to remember. The memories began but never ended and as I sat alone on the highway they persisted.

Little ones. Like small movements and sideways smiles began surfacing and singing to me telling me to remember. Things that I had forgotten or thought I had forgotten resurfaced and the dormant feelings I had connected to them resurfaced too. In a tumult of scenes played out in my head it became clear that these moments were secrets now. I had shared them with someone who now persists only in my memory.

We walked home in the dark from the city and shared our hands and hours for a long time before we realized that any time had passed at all. The infrequent street lamps didn't matter we walked from memory.

We met and talked and drew pictures of buildings and people and held hands on the bus home. I played a song for him the first time I ever played a song for anyone and we laughed and laid still and talked like we had been wrapped around each other for years.

Now the pavement splashes and splatters with the rain and thunder and lightening and lights up the drops like heavy tears. We all talked about the smell of the storm and the fear of the end and then as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. We gathered too and felt warm with each others tears. The music played and we all wept quietly. It wasn't a dream no matter how much we wanted to believe it was.

_______________________________________________________________

That night in the flickers of the red lamps and lights our spines fell together and floated up toward the ceiling where they lingered there breathing quietly. I remembered our spines and the way they sank then back into folds of cloth and skin.

He smiled at me and we smiled together drowsing in unjulating waves of the sleep that pervaded us. It was warm. We were warm. And our smiles connected us all of us all for always together connected. Our bodies felt infinite in our spines and we realized the things that were unclear before and felt free. We smiled again and sank into dreams.

I told him all the things that I felt and wanted to feel and we parted. It wasn't over it wasn't gone it would be later not forever but in my mind we grew together as friends but it was. It was gone. We forgot and moved away onward inward toward no where and each other and from there we both walked away neither naked but for nothing.

And then I saw it I saw them and felt strange the whole time but didn't know what it meant. The crow came first two days before with its regal black feathers walking around among us on the ground and feeling proud to be the indication of something more powerful something that we will never understand. How beautiful and how strange it seemed. The moth was second and I saw it on the night that night the one night that it all happened and it was resting on the ceiling where the walls come up to meet it waiting for something to save it. I took the moth and placed it in a jar and took it upstairs and set it free to save it to let it free away into the muggy stars and sky. I wish I had wings and flight to follow them into the sky.

My mind is blank now and feels numb it feels cloudy and desperate and hopeless from the infrequent prickles of all these insignificant things. The body I thought was mine is now sore with the density of my tears removing the bones from my limbs. This isn't real this is just a dream he said with the others looking away wishing that it could be true but knowing that it can't. It can't be a dream but it still can't be real our heads are too small to wrap themselves around this thing this hot thing this cold thing this something that we don't understand. And probably never will.

Another early journal. 2007.

2008-11-27T18:10:00.001-08:00

They said it was in my nature
to be loud
They said it was in my nature
to feel fire
inside me
The fire that I feel now comes from the outside not from within as it was supposed
to but these things that I feel now are inexplicable and I am not sure how to
deal with them.
How do I look at a painting and become it
How do I feel like the Mary and realize that I am not her at all
Sometimes my fingers aren't enough to express how I feel

Armed with my paper and pencil I try so hard to
Externalize
How I am feeling and what I am seeing inside of me

The wind from the sea with the necklace of lights
Washed over us
Raised the hair on my arms and
Blew the hair around my face
I told them that our bicycles had brought us there
For a reason
She said I was sweet he said that he knew it and that I was adorable and he liked
me too much and I knew it
I did know it
And I was smiling inside
But
At the same time
I began to
Not smile
Because all the reasons and all the reason that prevented us from being together
Exploded
My mind was full of them

We walked our bicycles
Home
From the lake with the necklace of lights
We talked and laughed and grew together
Sometime
I do not remember exactly when
We all stood there
Realizing
That sooner or later
This moment this glorious wonderful infinite moment
Would end

And it did

My friend was shot
He said in between tears

That night he told us that his friend had been
Shot

Shot

The words rang inside of me
For hours
I felt an emptiness that I had not know for years
And now
I hurt
For him
Because I knew what that was like
I knew what losing a dear friend
Felt like

And this deep pain this missing piece would take
Months
Years
Decades
To fully accept
But to never get over completely
Because when someone dies there is always a piece of you missing

He told us that his friend had been
Shot
And the next morning
He crawled into the matress with us
And we held him
We just laid there and held him
Letting him feel close to someone
I just wanted to hold him until all the pain and sadness
Went away

But I knew
That it couldn't be like that

Our bicycles led us there for a reason
And then they led us home

Together we walked our broken bicycles up the street and around the corner by
the church with the lady in the purple car and the little dog that runs around the
yard angrily
We approached the house and noticed the Christmas lights in the window glowing
playfully reflecting red and blue and green and yellow inside the second story
bedroom

The next day after holding each other
The other two of us
Played the banjo in the basement
I played the banjo
She played the bass drum and occasionally the piano

But even still

I never forgot the boy
And his lost friend
And all the reasons and reason for which we could never be we.

The earliest of my journals. 2006.

2008-11-27T18:08:00.000-08:00

1
I want to write sometimes I just want to write until my mouth is open wide and nothing is coming out except words words words glorious glorious words all removed expulsed released so precisely from my body. Oh how I yearn yearn yearn to be free of this confusion this this complete lack of sensical whimsical thought feeling being. I wish. Sometimes I truly wish that I could know instead of wonder wonder wonder know instead of wonder but immediately that notion has eradicated completely eradicated the creative thread that is sewn so precisely inside of me sewn sewn so exactly so innately deep within me.

Are you reading this I want you to read this I want your full full complete attention and I want you to understand comprehend me. Where do we go what do we do from this point I don't know I don't I don't I don't know at all what to do or what to think or what to feel. You make me feel. You make me feel like I haven't felt in a long long very long complicated time. The confusion begins here this is where the confusion confusion is emitted from it roots deep within me and perhaps perhaps perhaps this is all a dream am I dreaming? Wake up wake up wake up you aren't dreaming you're alive you are fully alive alive aware of everything I am conscious preconscious subconscious unconscious all at once. All all all at once. This morning I wake woke up and thought thought thought of it that you I thought for a long time and it that you would appear flitting flitting flitting off and on throughout my dreams daydreams nightdreams dreams flitting continuously moving floating seeping sleeping sitting starting to initiate deeper thought. I digress. I walk walk walk to class go to class think in class behave like every other robotic mass pretending to feel and think and go to class. I fall fall fall hard and fast for everything I see and pass I fall for you. I shouldn't shouldn't shouldn't but I do. I do. And I cannot help the feelings that begin to recollect again as I walk walk walk back and forth forth forth to class to school to room to chair to floor to desk. Once again the perplexing suburbia becomes reality and I walk walk walk up the hard black asphalt the hilly hard asphalt that leads to nowhere leads to nowhere fast. Walk walk walk now I feel again I feel completely no longer I robot I feel satiated. Most of my hunger most most most has been satiated. I sit. I watch. I listen. Flitting flitting flitting flitting the brain recalls the faint moments between conscious and unconscious preconscious where you continue to flit flit flit. I feel. I feel you it flit it now it's late late late and I have to quietly remove myself. Think of nothing but what is about to be done. What is about to be done. It has to be done. Oh dear I know you're sad and I'm so sorry so so sorry. I worry so much about you you you are not incapable or unfeeling or unstrong you must give yourself love love love you must love yourself.

A message from a friend arrives.
A wonderful lovely beautiful contagious friend brings a message from another.
A messy fanatical message from afar. I shall comply.
Send word that I shall comply.
I think to myself I love you, friend. I love you so much. And he leaves with word.

Late late later much later I leave too and comply. Walk walk walk climb climb stairs but before the door is even touched it opens. Hello friend good dear friend. To warm myself I enter the doorway I walk into the very wide spacious small spacious carpeted room. Hello other new friend new beautiful lovely wonderful friend. Light up oh how it that lit up bright and warm and open oh how lovely you are. Lovely lovely. We meet again quite unexpectedly quite lovely and unexpectedly oh beautiful motion you stir within me again again again. Talk talk talk about nonsense verbal physical nonsense oh what to do between the nonsense I want to tell good dear friend how I feel I want to scream how I feel and fell and fall and think of nothing at all except the flit flit flit of the new lovely friend. Friend. Oh dear.

I want to scream so loudly that no one can misunderstand misinterpret misconstrue any of it.

If you believe it is real then it becomes so. It is real. Be real. We are real.

We talk talk talk outside in the frigid frigid air. Cloudy breath emanates habitually repeatedly robotically from my mouth. I can't feel my nose pink pink raw nose warm with cold frozen but we talk and talk and now more than ever it wants to escape me it wants to remove itself from me I want to scream softly softly not violently softly all the things I feel in this that very moment. Oh how complex complicated I feel. My heart becomes the same color as my nose nose nose and hair it feels that way too soft and vulnerable soft soft and vulnerable but numb in places that I can't feel. The feeling will return eventually eventually and then eventually I will be able to feel everything everything that makes us vulnerable.

Eventually I will be able to feel comfortably wonderfully delicately vulnerable again. Someday you it that will know but now it's hard not to hope and want and feel so enamored with it that you. At this point moment time I know from my past that I shouldn't be hopeful wantful full of feeling but I am once again in this beautifully amazingly painfully precarious situation. Again again again.

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2
We sat in the car listening to all his sonic masterpieces just absorbing all of our thoughts. Talking was optional, as most of our other senses were being opened inside of us as we were just sitting there. Just sitting. Just listening. Just absorbing. "That's such a good way of putting it."

I fell asleep and the snow began to fall.

I dreamt of the past.

We stood there in the rain just holding each other feeling our hearts beating rapidly inside of our ribs. It was so surreal. The street lights were flickering under the dark cloudy sky. I couldn't fall asleep that night. My heart continued to pound relentlessly inside of me.

Now my heart pounds for a different reason.

I feel exhausted. My cheeks and nose are raw. Pink and swollen. It all happened so quickly. I didn't have any time to absorb it. Now I sleep again. Secretly hoping to float away in the silence.

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3
I'm ready I'm ready I'm ready I'm ready to go to leave to find a way to go away to be me, free and able to know what I am who I am where I am. These shells and bottles collecting my dust envelope the silence that becomes a must because the ones who surround me most I toast to you who think you know me who think you feel you know me most. It's funny I feel I feel it's funny how cynical alive and dead we conceal our feelings of real reality and the things we do for comformity and the sake of appearing to be a normal. A normal what? We ask you I ask me you ask we who is the only thing to see what do we see see see? He is the sea the sea to me he waves and watches me carefully and all I know is that with the sea comes tides and moons and desperately blowing wind and dunes.

All along the sea was he and now that he watches me desperately I know it's gone the thing we knew and now exists all something new. I sing to he from shallow tides the ebbs and flows of great divide we grew together we grow apart and now I know he broke my heart. The sea takes me and doesn't he but now we live so peacefully away away we grow today and live on ships that don't betray. Now I live the life of work I work each day upon my ship and wear my patches hip to hip I row the boat I watch the sails I hold myself above the tales that claimed me once they claimed my heart and now I live beneath in smart. Each night I sleep a peaceful dream and wish I was a pirate gleam a wench in someone elses eye a grown young woman red and spry. The mornings come and oceans wave the sea it sees me all I've braved and takes me in as one it's own and naught fore long I'm overgrown. Overgrown and all grown up my words and wishes didn't stop and now I live a life at sea with sails and friends and tales free. I died at sea long ago and now spirit overflows among the waves that ebb and grow to aid another in their know. I was a gleam a wench a girl young and spry with all her worlds her worlds of joy and sad and love and now I rest up down above.

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4
Write a poem write a song tell me a story of long long ago we sit we talk we tell the tale of live and long contrived I love you you are loved oh no oh god its been gone for so long we go along and now its gone. We sit and wait for all the news this child is mine I've caught the cues and hues of life within me grow and grow along inside me long inside me now its over its all done you'll never release this child young he's gone so gone and all along I knew it was completely wrong and now but how we go along growing and glowing with a secret showing. His name IS it is it is it's something I know from somewhere else without a doubt I feel sure this child is mine and not at all at the same time. He was lost stolen taken away to me someone else and now he lives he breathes he glows he knows whats hiding lives oh god oh no where does the child come from where oh where oh where he was lost and gone and now he's just outside and crossed without himself.....

Now the boy is grown the boy who's name is known. His name is was always known and now he grows and tells the tale of when he grew alone inside the womb I imagine so that all along he knew he was a special boy. Different alone together with all the rest inside outside the world growing and glowing with nothing to hide from anyone anymore. We know from him we know from us how we all trust remains inside concealed alone HE sees it all and can't condone the visions and revisions shown we all attempt to grow alone but unsuccessful we become because this man this boy the one can tell us all what we've become with years of bookless growth and tears he tells a story of our fears our deepest fears that no one knows not even we do but it shows somehow it shows and that he knows. Now alone I face the boy the man whose conscience doesn't go noticed to anyone and no one knows who he is at all not even he because we see what we choose to see and believe what no one sees in ourselves and grow to be what others see and wish to see.

Someday he'll die this boy of mine this boy this man that belongs to everyone all at once "I'm on all their sides" he tells me twice and I know I'm always going to be to see to understand that to only he; he is his own but not for me and now I see that he will be the one the boy the man he be.