frankenstein

2011-03-23T17:34:00.003-05:00

This blog has housed my inspirations, motivations and art over the past year. When i look at it i see a treasured archive. But, like when shelving an old, well-loved journal, it feels right to move on to crisp new pages. There are new places to find me and I may eventually return here when I have some time to amend the site.

mmmm

2011-03-19T02:22:00.002-05:00

Corn Syrup Custard with Whiskey & Pecans from Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams on Vimeo.

i love this place i love the way they do business and the ice-cream they produce.

"Ohio Love You is everything we are—our inspirations ... our ingredients ... our relationships with devoted customers, talented farmers and a supportive community. It is a celebration of everything that makes Jeni's ice creams trulysplendid!

During the growing season, our kitchen reflects the flavors of the Ohio countryside. In summer, each day brings fresh strawberries bursting from flats, hundreds of Japanese cucumbers piled in crates, and bushels of heirloom melons bought at the Saturday market.

When a local farmer brings bags of fresh mint, our team washes and chops it before steeping it in cream. Apricots are peeled and sliced before they are pureed for a mid-summer yogurt.

And of course, all of our ice creams are made with Ohio dairy from pasture raised cows. No antibiotics, growth hormones, herbicides or pesticides necessary ... cows eat grass, which their bodies were built to eat."

water

2011-03-18T21:20:00.000-05:00

Solidarités International et BDDP Unlimited veulent faire couler de l'encre from BDDP Unlimited on Vimeo.

"To mark World Water Day, on March 22nd Solidarités International and its agency BDDP Unlimited will roll out a campaign to build awareness of the scourge of undrinkable water.

Today, it is estimated that 3.6 million people, including 1.5 million children under the age of 5, die every year of diseases borne by undrinkable water, making it the world’s leading cause of death.

Yet the public isn’t aware of it and political leaders do not demonstrate the drive it takes to end the terrible deaths. The campaign calls on journalists to spread awareness of this scourge and appeal to readers to sign a petition that will be personally handed to the French president during the 6th World Water Forum in March 2012. To evoke the silent and invisible threat of unhealthy water, BDDP Unlimited opted for a minimalist approach that is both visually appealing and surprising, using water and ink exclusively. The spot shows the power of ink to reveal the invisible.

The spot, created by BDDP Unlimited, produced by Hush and directed by Clément Beauvais, a young director, illustrator, musician and photographer. His multiple talents and mastery of various techniques enabled him to both create the drawings and direct the spot. The campaign will be seen from mid-March on TV, in cinemas, on the Internet and in print. A dedicated web site, votregouttedeau.org, will gather signatures for the petition."

indisposed

2011-03-14T03:49:00.001-05:00

the clock has just turned from 3.34 to 3.35. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. it’s always strange to watch the number change, to feel my life lose something irreplaceable. time is slipping. i cleaned the entire apartment on thursday. i went to yoga at 9 am, then for some reason was so tired that taking a shower felt like a marathon. when i was out i pulled the huge comforter from my bed and i dozed/dazed naked on the couch all day, reading poetry and looking at art. i started cleaning at 9 pm and didn’t stop until a delirious 8 am. i finally secured the missing leg to the big wooden table that i found on the street, so that i could pull it out from the wall. now it’s in the center of the sun room. dried pink and red roses in empty wine bottles sit atop the table, brown stems and brittle leaves, clear glass, green glass. smooth table, dotted with pleasant water rings and curiously faded varnish. 3.42 am. i forced myself to stay awake and not to forgo my paper with promises that “i’ll wake up early and write it in the morning”. i thought that if i forced myself to sit in this rigid chair, if i made some coffee and put on warm socks, if i stayed awake, that i would write this. 3.44 just turned to 3.45 right in front of my eyes. 1,2,3,4,5. strange. somehow all i’ve done in relation to my paper is to read the first paragraph of the assignment. why am i this way? i thought i'd outgrow it, but i've only grown deeper into it.

wordy

2011-03-14T03:28:00.002-05:00

dispassionate |disˈpa sh ənit|
adjective
not influenced by strong emotion, and so able to be rational and impartial : she dealt with life's disasters in a calm, dispassionate way.

2011-03-08T14:21:00.002-06:00

“A person unlearns arrogance when he knows he is always among worthy human beings; being alone fosters presumption. Young people are arrogant because they always associate with their own peers, those who are all really nothing but who would like to be very important.”

--Friedrich Nietzsche

florian nicolle

2011-03-07T17:05:00.001-06:00

"I try to create an image that retains its freshness of the first paint stroke, the expressions of the line have to be very free and spontaneous. While keeping a rigorous drawing. So i use fast techniques like a bic, large brush, watercolor and chines ink then I add texture and details on Ps.

i use much texture of text, because it adds a presence of hand. I draw a picture as if I wrote a text, with the same tool, the same freedom, with erasures, lines, scribbles etc" -nicolle

personal site
http://www.neo-innov.fr/

network.
http://www.behance.net/

chapbook

2011-03-07T16:01:00.001-06:00

As promised I have a few excerpts from my classmate's chapbook. enjoy.

"Identity and relationships between people are the main things that interest me. Our

backgrounds and culture shape the way the way we relate and interpret other people’s

actions. Inevitably, navigating through relationships with people and places can be a

very emotional experience. My attempt was to convey emotion through language and

imagery without being too explicit. At the same time, I wanted to use images striking

enough to provide a new experience for the reader." --Karissa Taylor, Author.

Old Bactrian Neighborhood

"the night contracts

in a blender whirls the city lights

bend, give way

the flap of sandals on uneven ground

the nylon between legs winds

round the ankles

and snatches at the heels

between electric wires

burning insects

and satellite dishes

the moon shines in your face ten hours behind

you. with your Blackberry apps

like a tourist

in standard time

here, in the courtyard

sitting beneath grapevines

speaking of inverted days

reaching over longitudinal lines

as our features turn to static"

-Karissa Taylor.

(Part 3, of a 3 part series titled "The Story Teller")

III.

"To my English professor:

The government has announced a two-day city blackout next week. Please excuse

me if I miss class.

A woman drowned in the canal and they cut our water.

To my Physics instructor:

I am not fit to be seen. Please excuse me if I miss class.

I used to complain about the electricity when I was a child, and now I see why.

It’s been more than two days. Dad, let me borrow your laptop so I can take it to a

friend’s to work on my paper.

I’m bathing in bacteria, where can I shower? Where can I get clean?

I hate it, I hate it here!

They’ve sold our electricity to Uzbekistan, and we won’t have enough till the dam"

-Karissa Taylor.

Bobbies

"But I paused when the road dipped into a valley on my left, and the way split into

two smaller roads going up almost vertical hills. Unable to resist the girl who cried

out--ocha! Ocha! because I wasn’t following her instructions, I saw two blonde boys

picking their way across a rubble heap accompanied by a Tajik. This was it, much

smaller than I remembered, but this was where I ran around and fell and skinned my

knee. My thought process is scary. I can’t leave him. Yes, you can. He needs me. No,

he doesn’t. Soon you'll be flying out to Romania! I can't believe it, less than a week

already. You must be excited. I wanted to send an email before you went, and I'll still

try to send a card. But that won't be till after you get back…

The street curved and I caught another flash of green before the houses blocked my

view.

I'm still awake because of the coffee I drank last night."

-Karissa Taylor.

you can e-mail Karissa at ktreverie@gmail.com
and i may have some blog links for you soon!

a mad girl's love song

2011-03-07T15:47:00.003-06:00

go to lexi's tumblr and feast your eyes

chapbook

2011-03-02T19:24:00.001-06:00

I met with a friend from my english class the other day to exchange our chapbooks from last semester's poetry class. I made mine out of an old accordion folder so that each book had a different letter tab, I painted hers and finished it with gold drizzle which pleasantly explodes when dried with a blow-drier so that it looks like the poor girls version of gold foil. I've got to start taking real pictures of things and stop using photobooth and my cellphone, yikes. but you get the idea.

almost all of the poems in my book are already posted in places around this blog. Reading her chapbook, though, was such a pleasant experience. I may get my hands on some of her poems to share with all of you.

it was when

2011-03-02T00:52:00.002-06:00

you were early
during uncertain timing
saying plainly that
you would rather wait
30 minutes than make
me wait 15 and i knew
that you meant it.

memory.

2011-03-02T00:39:00.002-06:00

2011-03-01T16:25:00.001-06:00

Mr. Rogers

2011-03-01T08:38:00.001-06:00

please watch this, it just made me cry and boosted my faith in humanity, especially in light of the current NPR/PBS crisis. video courtesy of Rob Gornik.

oh, adele.

2011-02-28T21:32:00.000-06:00

breaking fear

2011-02-25T02:19:00.013-06:00

Last week my english professor said "a good diet is one in which you're constantly thinking about what you do eat". i’ve been thinking about how everything i do is reductive, focused on what NOT to do. This is an obvious conclusion, one to which i often return. But i want it to have a more direct effect on my habits and methods than the usual "think positive!" pat on the back I give myself, which gets me no where.

I've also been realizing that my perfectionism and high standards allow fear of failure to rule my life. new strategy. no more to do lists. no more goals, rules, standards. none at all. I never complete everything on my lists, my lofty goals intimidate me and I inevitably get discouraged. I'm simply going to make a daily list of accomplishments. that is all. i will not ask myself what I haven't done, but what i have. i'm going to take this very seriously. This might sound lazy, or maybe that's just the perfectionist talking. But in my current situation fear is often crippling and paralyzing. My passions and values won't dissipate in the absence of rules and lists. I can't fail if there is no standard and that is liberating.

i'm afraid of forgetting what i need to do, i'm keeping my calendar of assignments but i'm afraid that in the absence of worry and anxiety turning things over and over in my head i'll let them slip away. my worry is not what keeps the world running, in fact rather, i think that the absence of stress will stop my habit of avoidance and this will heighten my awareness. It will raise my consciousness, of where i am and what i'm doing, in every moment, so that i might make each of them more beautiful and productive.

"which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?....therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble"

image

quit smoking

2011-02-25T01:46:00.004-06:00

satisfy your craving

Incarceration Up, Education Down

2011-02-24T11:44:00.003-06:00

"When a society allows for more than $45,000 a year to be paid to incarcerate each of its many, many inmates, $1,000,000 dollars a year on each of its soldiers invading a foreign country, and only $11,287.50 per year on each of its students the resulting social dilemma is inevitable"
-Courtesy of whereisdrew who has a lot of good things to say, check him out.

I'd like to add that an easy step towards spending less $ on incarceration would be to legalize pot. That way all of the minority kids who got caught with marijuana could get out of jail, and join their white suburban counterparts, who never went in the first place bc they were able to pay their way out. It would just be good news for everyone.

education

2011-02-23T00:11:00.001-06:00

wanting to look like girls

2011-02-21T20:50:00.003-06:00

I didn't even notice the first wrinkle cream comercial, but once I'd seen it 1,000,000 times its message started subconsciously sinking in, I'm on a fast track to ugly and I need help, now.

"Behind the fact that women are more severely penalized than men are for aging is the fact that people, in this culture at least, are simply less tolerant of ugliness in women than in men. An ugly woman is never merely repulsive. Ugliness in women is felt by everyone, men as well as women, to be faintly embarrassing. And many features that count as ugly in a woman’s face would be quite tolerable on the face of a man. This is not, I would insist, just because the aesthetic standards for men and women are different. It is rather because the aesthetic standards for women are much higher, and narrower, than those proposed for men.

Beauty, women’s business in this society, is the theater of their enslavement. Only one standard of female beauty is sanctioned: the girl. The great advantage men have is that our culture allows two standards of male beauty: the boy and the man. The beauty of a boy resembles the beauty of a girl. In both sexes it is a fragile kind of beauty and flourishes naturally only in the early part of the life-cycle. Happily, men are able to accept themselves under another standard of good looks-heavier, rougher, more thickly built. A man does not grieve when he loses the smooth, unlined, hairless skin of a boy. For he has only exchanged one form of attractiveness for another: the darker skin of a man’s face, roughened by daily shaving, showing the marks of emotion and the normal lines of age. There is no equivalent of this second standard for women. The single standard of beauty for women dictates that they must go on having clear skin. Every wrinkle, every line, every gray hair, is a defeat. no wonder that no boy minds becoming a man, while even the passage from girlhood to early womanhood is experienced by many women as their downfall, for all women are trained to continue wanting to look like girls." --via

My mother is living proof that this very real standard is entirely ridiculous. She grows more beautiful with each year. Not only because of her wisdom, her experience, her glowing love and her "i'm too old to care what you think" fearlessness; but she also becomes physically more and more beautiful in the same way that George Clooney becomes exponentially more impossibly sexy each day. Her beautifully structured face smiles, even when she's pensive, her blue eyes grow in their intensity every time that I see her and she is simply stunning. Age is beautiful, ladies and gentlemen.

words are futile devices

2011-02-21T20:05:00.003-06:00

via Madison Gibbs

equilibrium

2011-02-20T17:43:00.002-06:00

Satomi Matsuzaki’s tiny, childlike voice bounces along the metallic sounds and excited drumming so that i feel enveloped in Deerhoof's momentum and buoyancy, the music feels like cotton, I cling statically to its fiber, our textures create a warming friction and it’s the kind of beat that I can feel vibrating through my chest, ringing in my collarbone, so i place my hand over my heart and close my eyes leading you to question weather i’m alright, of course, i nod-- i am, and i lean a bit closer, music banging, to smell your breath having noticed that it smelled round and purple, you didn’t look at me but at the lights behind me and kissed my shut lips, so i said, i like you, to which you shouted i love you too and i noticed that unlike the music, when i touch you, i slip off of your edges, my clinging fingers turning white as i grip to hold on, wondering where your pills gather and your seams run, i slide mercilessly because there is no give under my pressure, no resistant push back and i realize that on the best of days i only sit in equilibrium on your shiny surface, motionless, hoping that nothing tilts, i suppose it is for precisely this human quality that i am so grateful for the hurtling enthusiasm of the band, the sounds and movement allowing me to leave my autonomous perch and join the fabric of the grimy crowd.

[one sentence, edits, assignments, sorry for the repetition, trying to write right through my writing funk]

gorgeous

2011-02-18T09:48:00.003-06:00

i've been told that thom dances exactly like me. i'll take it.

l.d.k. imagined abandon.

2011-02-18T00:35:00.004-06:00

some neighborhood art. sorry about the bad photo quality, only had my cellphone.

floral prints and a lipstick box

2011-02-17T22:39:00.001-06:00

While walking through Anthropology and fingering the dresses that I can’t afford, dusting off the books in the sale room, smelling the perfumes, Saint Vincent’s crooning interrupts my reverie, grabbing my throat, the echos pinch so that i can feel an aggravating lump just above my larynx, mingling insoluble sentiments in my belly, I love her rusty voice, her music, the energy of her tingling notes, even the conjured image of her strangely large eyes and soft curls makes me slightly giddy, but all the while, I wish that i could turn her off, shut her up, walk out of the store because of the lump, the slow, restless, itching memories of sticky, red, almost forgotten pinpricks all because unfortunately, her music is equally suited to love and heartache and I’ve baptized both of them in her holy words so that each breathy syllable feels like Judas’ lips along my neck.

[another rushed assignment: write about emotional journey while listening to a song. use one, long sentence. i don't know if i love this either, but it pushed me outside of my own habits, and i like that]

drip

2011-02-17T04:33:00.003-06:00

Black Liquid from Zak-fx on Vimeo.

glimmer.

2011-02-17T00:50:00.015-06:00

most people feel like cotton. i touch

them, we cling. words move against

each other, friction, fiber of reality.

it was when i leaned a bit closer,
music banging behind me, to
smell your breath having noticed
that it smelled round and purple.
that you didn’t look at me but the
lights, and kissed my shut lips.

i love you too, the wall shouted when
i whispered warm sentiments into its
cracks. reaching, green fingers crawled
through, licking my face, i didn’t say.

when i touch you, i slip off of your edges,
fingers white. what? no pills or seams?
i slide mercilessly. no give, no push.

on the best of days i sit in equilibrium
on your shiny surface, motionless.
don’t tilt, for there is no experience.

Parsley Steinweiss

2011-02-16T20:10:00.002-06:00

photography

Gone Baby, Don't be Long

2011-02-16T01:09:00.001-06:00

Erykah Badu - Gone Baby, Don't be Long from beeple on Vimeo.

directed by flying lotus

hengki koentjoro majic

2011-02-14T13:16:00.001-06:00

Hengki Koentjoro

via featureshoot.com

yummy.

2011-02-14T12:57:00.004-06:00

THE SCENT

"In the Library is a warm blend of English Novel*, Russian & Moroccan Leather Bindings, Worn Cloth and a hint of Wood Polish"

"*The main note in this scent was copied from one of my favorite novels originally published in 1927. I happened to find a signed first edition in pristine condition many years ago in London. I was more than a little excited because there were only ever a hundred of these in the first place. It had a marvelous warm woody slightly sweet smell and I set about immediately to bottle it."

via

found by nate. of itstartswith.us

spring perfection

2011-02-14T11:54:00.001-06:00

i'm going to need every single piece.

the train. [blek]

2011-02-09T14:38:00.009-06:00

[i hate this story. i can't even read through it, i dont think it conveys the idea i was going for and the words feel like road blocks. if any of you happen to read it all of the way through constructive criticism is the best gift.]

[i wrote it for a class. the assignment was: non fiction, something strange that happened to you. written in imitation of x author. i can't remember who it was, but i wasn't a huge fan.]

During small moments of emptiness, the brain fabricates personal relevance. The cute boy, just to my left, is peeking up, admiring me, from behind his book. Later he’ll wish that he’d spoken to me. The traffic light karmically turned red, I’ll be late again. I should have helped my roommate this morning. The girl behind the counter has that spark, because we’ve just connected. And the man in the heavy coat with the tense pace is following me. It does not matter that the boy hasn’t really noticed me at all, but keeps glancing out the window to see which stop he’s just passed. Or that the light simply turned from green to red, just as it always does. The girl just pocketed a naughty text and the bustling man is hurrying home to his dog, after a long day. I imagine that most of my days are like this. I pass hundreds of people on busses, trains and sidewalks. My mind weaves unlikely stories. In reality, while I wait on tables and sit through classes, brushing shoulders and touching hands in exchange, I rarely cross the threshold into a stranger’s reality or they into mine.

One morning, somewhere in a series of many such mornings, I sat on the train platform alone. I felt sure that, from within the approaching train, the conductor was looking at me. It seemed as if he were a friend pulling in, to pick me up. The Chicago winter was in it’s usual habit of apologetically trying to make up for hiding the sun. Like a guilty liar spouting awkward details, frantically refracting diffused light through the bleak, grey blanket creating a sharp, squinting brightness. A poor stand-in for golden rays. I glared directly into the conductors window, playing into my fantasty, my reflection looked back at me in the white glare, reenforcing my singular reality. I sat near the end of the elevated train platform, about five yards short of where the train usually stops. I was still staring at myself in the conductor's window, as the train began to slow prematurely and continued to slow, faster than I thought it should. It lulled to a stop directly in front of my frozen toes, puncturing my intimate reality. Just as I became embarrassingly aware of the way that I was staring at the assumed conductor, the small sliding window, like that of a drive through, slammed open. Jessica! A voice from within the dark conductor’s box. This metallic eel that slithers by me daily, hardly slowing enough for me to jump on, just called my name. On this train, I sit next to the passengers as they pick their cuticles, drum their fingers. I smell their skin, their hair, their breath. I sit well within their personal bubbles without ever breaking their consciousness. Now, suddenly, the damn train knows my name. I wasn’t sure how to reply and simply stared into the darkness that previously belonged to my familiar reflection. Soon a smiling face popped through the opening, Hey girl! How you been? I stared at the middle aged man with freckles on his nose, scanning my brain for the usual circumstances in which a strange man might know my name; With the added pressure that everyone on the stopped train is waiting for me to make the connection. Adding to my discomfort, the only thing that comes to mind is having met this man in a bar, under some embarrassing circumstance, during crazier days. I strain to look at him, how do I know you? What! You don’t remember me? Brian! He acted as if he’d just provided me with an enlightening fact, and took too long to see that I still had no idea. Shifting silence, a few more awkward words and finally he identified that he was the security guard in my freshman dorm. I used to make small talk with Brian almost every day in the hopes of getting on his good side so that he might let me sneak guests in without a pass, he never did. I see your friends, um Elena, Angie, Elaine, yea they ride this train all the time! What’re you girls doing out alone at night! All the while I had been slowly moving into the train, finally boarding, Brian has opened the sliding door of his compartment so that he can talk to me over his should as he drives. He tells me about not getting a raise at Loyola and quitting to work with the CTA. By now the train is loud and I can hardly hear him. I’m still slightly frazzled and I sit down. Shouting, yeah towards his dark compartment every time he pauses. Eventually he yells some kind of goodbye, moving his foot, or whatever was propping the heavy door open, letting it slam shut between us so that we can both slide back into our own, private realities. In retrospect I realize that Brian must have stopped because I was staring at him, that this connection was made because I imagined it. Brian makes me wonder if I've become accustomed to moving through life like a minnow, bouncing and ricocheting off of those around me, unaffected.

2011-02-09T12:22:00.000-06:00

via

for some reason this really grabbed me. although i dont know what i'm waiting for, i feel as though i'm waiting.

2011-02-09T11:51:00.001-06:00

dear source, i lost you. i'm sorry.

[extra]ordinary

2011-02-03T20:47:00.005-06:00

via

lately i'm obsessed with this kind of pupil shrinking, super bright lighting. it extends the pigment and emphasizes the eyes in such a vivid way. Dan Aronofsky (who directed black swan as well, i've been meaning to say i absolutely loved that movie, although i feel like such a cliche for being a writer/artist and loving Black Swan. i really loved it. it changed the way I think about tragedy and self destruction, for the better.) anyway, that was a really obtrusive parenthetical insert. so, Aronofsy directed The Fountain and he also makes use of this kind of eye popping lighting and it's pretty spectacular. I didn't love The Fountain quite as much as Black Swan but it was visually incredible, and the plot had a similar off-putting effect that once you discuss (post-movie) reveals so many complex themes and leaves your brain buzzing for a few days, weeks if you're lucky. all of my film buff friends should be proud of me for this post because they know that i never watch movies, i'm entirely uneducated on film because i just never have time. recommendation lists appreciated :)

also, tilda swinton is simply [extra]ordinary. she embraces her quirky individuality with inspiring grace and beauty.

Malcolm X

2011-02-02T02:01:00.002-06:00

Was it just me or did anyone else learn, in high school, that Malcolm X was like Dr. King's evil counter part? I remember them saying that he was "too radical", "violent", etc. Personally, I think he was pretty damn amazing.

bad ass woman.

2011-02-02T01:48:00.000-06:00

i've been wanting to do a post about makeup, kind of wondering if it would be relevant. this girl is a brilliant example of why it is.

home is wherever i'm with you.

2011-02-02T01:38:00.000-06:00

i'm not sure who posted this on facebook causing it to be a tab in my browser for the last few hours, but thank you!

if i must live without

2011-01-30T20:15:00.002-06:00

a ripple of heat across your
face each time you see mine

brightness behind your eyes
when my mind is full bloom

shared laughter slipping over
frivolous tawny moments,

if i must watch your back recede, let
your humidity first dust my cheek.

silence

2011-01-27T21:35:00.000-06:00

via

style rookie

my BA in anthropology is good for something?

2011-01-26T23:34:00.000-06:00

"Try to understand men. If you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and almost always leads to love." -Steinbeck

cant stop myself

2011-01-24T17:17:00.000-06:00

via boooooooom

"you were never meant to be the center of the universe"

2011-01-24T16:24:00.006-06:00

nasa.com

my only new years resolution is to spend more time alone,

2011-01-24T11:52:00.003-06:00

more time developing the things that i love instead of fitting them in around my social life. i want to commit to people when it matters, rather than all of time.

2011-01-24T11:38:00.001-06:00

lauren

and

bleach black

both already featured this, but i can't help but re-post. so sexy.

slow build

2011-01-24T11:24:00.005-06:00

via i guess i'm floating

last semester graduation track: new year

2011-01-24T11:06:00.011-06:00

rules to live by

study 1 hour per day, seems simple enough. build consistency.
hot yoga 4x per week.
work 12 hour saturdays.
start using tuex duex again, wait does anyone know what's happened to tuex duex?
find vehicle for spiritual focus/community
buy groceries, don't eat on the run
love my body, mind, space

immediate (this week/month) things

~~record notes~~ ~~record more~~
~~buy art supplies~~ ~~still need more~~ more
~~buy books~~ still need more.
reply to letters
~~clean~~
~~print yoga ticket~~
schedule massage, thanks j.
f~~ind the perfect x.~~
mail plate to mrs. s
~~routing?~~
~~bill 1~~
~~bill 2~~ again
~~bill 3~~ again
~~make schedule~~
~~use pink krink~~
go digging w j
sell comp
sell bike
~~laundry~~ again
do bubble paint proj
~~send something to L~~
go thrifing

wordy

2011-01-19T20:19:00.003-06:00

resonance |ˈrezənəns|
noun
•
the quality in a sound of being deep, full, and reverberating : the resonance of his voice.
•
figurative the ability to evoke or suggest images, memories, and emotions : the concepts lose their emotional resonance.
•
mechanics the condition in which an object or system is subjected to an oscillating force having a frequency close to its own natural frequency.
•

2011-01-07T13:42:00.002-06:00

JR / Exposition Paris 2009 - Ile Saint Louis
Uploaded by JR. - Discover more animation and arts videos.

merry christmas

2010-12-25T17:59:00.000-06:00

sweet unexpected understanding

2010-12-22T01:12:00.004-06:00

Yourstru.ly Presents: Sun Airway "Oh, Naoko" from Yours Truly on Vimeo.

thanks, BOOOOOOOOM

Phase 4.

2010-12-21T16:09:00.008-06:00

rich, decadent, thick.
the ways i’ve tortured
my sprawling minutes

for reasons. brewing them
in my spine. searching my
heady body for treason.

I figure, I owe you
that, at least, isn’t that
what people owe?

there are a few,
i've outlined
a few. at ﬁrst

there were
none. for my
searching thirst.

Phase 2.

2010-12-21T16:07:00.003-06:00

i held you up, out
of the, lifted you,

up. into the glassy, black
dryness and gulped salt.

i depended on every
last drop, slowly saved
in my sparse mental

collection. dumped
your unconscious bones
and simply walked.

i wasn’t leaving, really.
going for air. Air,

depleted from your need for
more, more, more, men i say!

walk away from that
godforsaken, from your
whimpering, cowering, your
rescued, searching fingers.

Phase 1.

2010-12-21T16:05:00.006-06:00

second, the closet that
you were afraid to share.

you thought i’d run,
i would have had

I know that what you
did, we do yet. number
three, just hasn't come,

reason. i am
able, you see.

but everything looks
hazy from underneath.

Phase 5

2010-12-21T16:03:00.005-06:00

i imagined you
scratching for what
I owe. now obvious,

suddenly, of course,
you will have invented
epistemological holds to
grasp, in the wake of lack.

so important, effusive,
teary, you know.

thank The Merciful
Lord for His limitless
grace to Me, wretched
Me, it was a blessing,
all of that pain, her
ontological looseness,
simply wouldn't do for
someone, like Me. He
took her away, because
I simply don’t know what
is good, for Me.

I’ll leave you your tufts of
hair and cuticles if
you need them to stand.

Phase 3.

2010-12-21T16:00:00.008-06:00

Death brings phases
for the living, the tilling

of the known. inversion of
wrinkled cognitive maps.

shaking pines into depressions
and rivers, tangling smaller streets

into tiny, locked knots
of necessary, for the living.

wordy

2010-12-21T15:56:00.003-06:00

grief |grēf|

noun

deep sorrow, esp. that caused by someone's death : she was overcome with grief.

(p.s. I always wonder if people think these posts are meant to show new and exciting vocabulary, it's not that I think we don't know what grief is, I'm just really into the nuances and artistry of definitions.)

you will confirm your own fears when you bring them to fruition through your paranoia

2010-12-15T02:35:00.003-06:00

via

im feeling floaty

2010-12-11T22:57:00.001-06:00

via sabino

freedom

2010-12-11T15:35:00.011-06:00

Polina Barbasova by Sharif Hamza

Thierry Le Goues

It struck me while running the other day that fitness is an integral part of freedom. If we're blessed enough to have the freedom to run, to fight back, to push forward, to travel, to keep up we must do everything we can to cultivate these gifts. Fitness is freedom from self doubt, each time I overcome a simple physical obstacle I become more confident in my mental and emotional stamina in stressful situations. We rightly recoil at the pressure to gain social power by being 90 lbs and flawlessly beautiful, but that doesn't mean that we should neglect our bodies. Apathy about our physical selves is not the correct protest to media imposed female body image, it's self love. I like the way these photos show the beauty of strength and coincidentally blackness as opposed to more common themes of white/waify fragile/frail. comment your thoughts?

Love your body, free yourself.

perhaps this is possible

2010-12-11T15:10:00.007-06:00

"The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

he leads me beside quiet waters,

he refreshes my soul. "

help me with finals!

2010-12-07T01:03:00.007-06:00

If you have a minute, or are just feeling charitable please take this anonymous porn survey for my last minute anthro project! It's 10 questions and they're completely open ended so you can spill your guts. I'm working on a paper about how the language on porn sites interacts with mainstream society; and how the relationships of porn viewers (or porn obtainers) to the sites can teach us about our culture . I want to get to hear everyone's opinions and I'll be sure to share some of my ideas with you, lovely blog readers.

Click here to take survey

image via

gr. my memory is broken. this is irritating.

2010-12-06T19:23:00.002-06:00

In other news:

The troll who lives in my basement walked out the back gate around noon today wearing only one glove and carrying an empt beer stein in said gloved hand, naked hand flailing in the wind, he slid down the icy ally going god knows where. This made me laugh.

critical thinking

2010-12-06T18:50:00.012-06:00

Right, that’s so sweet.

The way you can name

every band and brand,

every capitalist scam in

this deep fried land. Shit.

The way you only converse
with people who won’t terse

your acquired knowledge

your savvy party college.

Wait college, that is so

deep. But really I think

you’re just steep up this

cliff hanging story, boring,

never fulfilling its glory.

Word, i don’t know what
the hell you’re saying
because the lifts on these
spliffs are so sharp i’ve
got a bird’s eye on Mt St Helens.

the finals conversation

2010-12-06T11:00:00.003-06:00

I'm always fantastically panicked during finals because I allow work to build up throughout the semester. I never intend to, but life gets in the way. Sometimes I feel like I've got an entire semester worth of work to do in 1 week because really, I do.

you can do it!
no, I really can't.
what do you want me to say?
i want you to recognize that i have more work than is humanly possible!
but it is possible, humanly, for you've done this before.

more papers than i can count (10?). 4 finals on monday, 12 hour shift on sunday--that's inconvenient. (2 texts books to read). two poetry readings to attend. a photography final to begin. and class all week. what's the point of "finals week" if 4/5 of my finals are on the first day? oh dear god.

alien invasion/damage/mementos of existence

2010-12-06T10:06:00.005-06:00

jack and elaine

2010-12-03T19:22:00.002-06:00

first attempt at some portraits, didn't go too well but it was super rushed/bad lighting. i can only improve from here.

lego

2010-12-03T16:21:00.003-06:00

via thedailysteeze

end of ze world

2010-12-01T08:48:00.001-06:00

lately

2010-12-01T07:06:00.002-06:00

i go to bed last, wake up first.

each minute is busy. there's always something urgent to be done immediately for school and i'm at work instead.

sorry for not being in touch, i'd like to be.

move

2010-12-01T01:20:00.001-06:00

jar//send a painful or damaging shock

2010-11-30T00:32:00.002-06:00

UNTITLED from EXITO on Vimeo.

some rosie things

2010-11-29T21:11:00.003-06:00

tribute to love

2010-11-29T21:08:00.000-06:00

a lauren nicole lankford photo

toying with fiction.

2010-11-29T20:54:00.004-06:00

last ditch

That day I began to feel the ache of Rome’s bones because I’d left you in Six Lakes. Because by then, you’d probably passed from under the chilled, threatening trees, abandoned the bugs and fled south to the welcoming city. I woke steaming hot in the cold, that morning, stripped and stood on the icy tile staring at each curve and goose bump over the miniature, white porcelain sink before dressing in my usual guilt. Espresso con cornetto, archaeology class in the forum, I waited all day, my brain dangling on its last synapse, cigarettes, more espresso, Mensa, a tiny raspberry cake that I never got to eat, a package from him, letters from family and a few unappreciated notes at the gate, never you. That day was no exception to your punishing silence. I wondered if the smack had finally stolen the last breath from your eye in the city. Fuck the city. The day finally closed in a deep purple hush and with nothing left to wait for I opened the door of my glowing core, incinerated the ache, and freed myself from the obligations of a dead man. I dove into reflected sky and buzzing night lights, wrapped myself in priestly diversions and Mexican tequila, released my mental grip to forget that it was anything other than “my twenty-oneth birthday” and crawled into the Roman soil.

for luminous points, large, remote incandescent bodies.

switch to tumblr?

2010-11-29T20:12:00.000-06:00

idk.

maybe instead i should write this hellish paper. yea.

white tattoo thoughts

2010-11-29T19:17:00.007-06:00

duh.

2010-11-22T23:14:00.001-06:00

Dally.

2010-11-20T23:42:00.031-06:00

The wet-hot midwestern summer mists my cheeks like an old woman’s sour, comforting kisses as I hurry to transport myself through the city. Grimy yellow lamps recall Oakland Park childhood, salmon sunsets peaking through the hoary cloud glaze, the anticipation of darkness. Pink flesh on grey walks, stepping around rubble and broken glass, stubbing toes on uneven slabs, unheeded cuts and blisters cooled in fresh grass, doughy soil. My parents making an event of evening walks to the corner store. Neighbors with strollers, dogs straining, big brothers, all marching in a leisurely parade, red and white sirens, friends tickling secrets into my ears. Bubble gum ice cream melting sticky blue webs down my fists faster than i could cram frozen pieces of rainbow gum into chipmunk cheeks. When I last returned only the roses and fireworks. Sweat licks my lower back and leaves a trail under the bridge of my glasses, cash only, sorry. Damn it I’m already late.

hello, November? where are you? please, slow down.

2010-11-20T20:11:00.001-06:00

snow white.

2010-11-18T22:36:00.000-06:00

this is an alec/ abby discovery <3

mix by fagottron

gathering dots until i can't carry any more.

2010-11-17T12:09:00.000-06:00

“Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn’t really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That’s because they were able to connect experiences they’ve had and synthesize new things. And the reason they were able to do that was that they’ve had more experiences or they have thought more about their experiences than other people. Unfortunately, that’s too rare a commodity. A lot of people in our industry haven’t had very diverse experiences. So they don’t have enough dots to connect, and they end up with very linear solutions without a broad perspective on the problem. The broader one’s understanding of the human experience, the better design we will have.”

- Steve Jobs

(quote found by lauren)

film photos

2010-11-16T13:05:00.001-06:00

Man v. Nature.

2010-11-16T12:58:00.003-06:00

film. rainbows. light. color. power struggle between man and nature.

yoga, today.

2010-11-16T00:25:00.004-06:00

Today in my yoga class we focussed on a mantra about giving, remaining open. One hand pours out resources and love while one extends in a gesture of friendship. I feel like a sort of vestibule, if I remain open I can be filled with goodness which is meant to be poured out to those around me. This seems to be backed by Jesus, my yoga teacher's conception of Eastern Religions (I feel too uneducated on this to make much of an assertion), and Jack Spicer's conception of Poetry Martians. Only people from my English class, none of whom read this, would get that reference. But if you're interested you should listen to Spicer's lectures here. During class I had this overwhelming feeling that I've gotten entirely off track. I've been so lost in my own head that I haven't focussed on pouring out, even when I've tried it's usually half assed because I'm too full of my own shit. This evening's yoga class was centering, I'm renewed in my convictions. I've got to release mental/physical toxins, and open myself to better things, which probably entails actively seeking them out, so that I can not only receive from others but give in return. Why must I learn the same lessons again and again? I've also been cultivating a new desire to prioritize where and when to give love. I think I put to much energy into relationships/friendships that aren't going anywhere, I can't force love on people. There's so much desperate need in the world. My idea of helping people is often reduced to being supportive of friends who don't even see that they're being supported, and likely don't care. I'm not trying to say that my time is so precious and valuable that I should really consider who is the most deserving of it; Rather, I do so little to give back--I should use my recourses, whether time money or love, in the most effective way possible.

Today.

2010-11-15T10:08:00.003-06:00

~~I think the weekend just happened?~~
~~Worked a lot~~
~~Went out a bit with J and most adorable new friend A~~
~~Slept?~~
~~Completed film assignment, finally.~~

Monday:
~~Show up for 8 am photo class~~
~~Endure awkward one on one with moderately cool prof.~~
Finish a paper in the next 1.25 hours. Can't think beyond that for now. Trying to combat the tendency to give up because that's not enough time to write this paper. It is enough time, dear blog reader, it is! failed to do this! i don't do well with time constraints.
~~class~~
~~class~~
~~yoga.~~
archaeology paper.
anthropology paper.

Today.

2010-11-12T01:06:00.000-06:00

~~Class~~

~~Work for 6 hrs.~~

~~Write.~~

~~e-mail.~~

So much more to do.

A Regression to the Bliss that Ignorance Affords.

2010-11-12T01:05:00.002-06:00

As the sedan shuttles through the wet morning air Juliet is keenly aware of all that she's left behind and that somewhere amidst all of her "cutting-out" she's become entirely autonomous. She dwells on the net worth of her choices, on constantly breaking herself, "always reveling in my abandon", she thinks. She tries to breath normally despite the panic creeping up her neck and burning the tips of her ears phoenix-red. "What am I doing", she wonders. Matt absentmindedly slides one hand from the wheel and pushes an old cassette into the dash. Gracious reverberations devour the silence and Juliet's thoughts, just in time to halt hot tears poised to charge down her flushed cheeks. She twists in the passenger seat willing her spine to stretch and find comfort, her eyes scan the snagged pleather dash for something, anything to absorb. She notices a tiny drip in the center air vent catching a glint of sunlight and shimmering brilliantly. She indulges her blank state, simply staring as a slow, translucent golden-yellow substance peaks out at her and begins to ooze from the vent, the cassette player and the speakers. Juliet looks around to see if anyone else sees it. "They must see this. If they don't either it's not happening, or I'm not happening", she reasons. But they all stare contentedly out the windows as the Wisconsin trees go by, no one meets her eye, no one confirms her physical presence. She twists again, squints her eyes, by now it’s oozed into stalactite like formations down the sides of the car and continues to slide lazily from the speakers and tape deck seeming to ebb and flow in time with the music, filling the car with a sweet spring smell. As the song escalates she reaches out to touch the golden ooze, without really knowing why, she pulls her finger to her lips to taste. “Sweet honey”! Her taste buds tingle with a twinge of savory pain, overwhelmed by the rich clover, her body buzzes from the movement of the song, carried on notes that seem to be honey themselves. The trees dim, her eyes go dark and she's lost. Back in Mr. And Mrs. Tatum's old southern plantation house, feet sinking into a deep-rose antique rug in a cool room. She cautiously glides her eyes from the fibers between her toes to the unaffected face in front of her, "of course it's Frank", she admits defeat to her subconscious. He slips his sweaty young palm into her empty hand and pulls her outside, not bothering with shoes, bare feet in the cool dewy grass, bare shoulders baking in the warm sunlight, long curls bouncing with her sundress, she flits around Frank. Frank, with his teasing blue eyes and apologetic smile, holding a football and taunting her, grinning. They play just for an excuse to look at each other, before slipping away to some windowless corner of the house to hide in its shadow. Lips, shoulders, they taste each other, kissing fingers, biting the tips in frustration. Saccharine anticipation never meant to be fulfilled. The song begins to fade and Juliet finds herself tugged swiftly up, out, away from the suddenly intangible space, she reaches for Frank desperately, watching the yard disappear. But he's lost. She's slipping back, back into this space full of strangers, alone in a small grey pod of company. She feels her throat pleading, "I’m not ready to go"! But the song ends, she's gripping the faded seat, begging it's cheap texture to provide her with some sense of that old security. She opens her eyes to find that her long curls and sundress are gone, she's stripped of safety, branded with the effects of her choices, ashamed at ever having tried to shed them. And she finds that nothing is dripping through the car, no savory aroma, only the smell of last nights' fast-food run, tacky pine scented air-fresheners and questioning stares that wouldn’t come when she wanted them.“That song really took me back”, she answers.

edited.

the most obvious things shock me even though the most shocking never do

2010-11-11T09:59:00.003-06:00

take a breath and err.

2010-11-10T19:33:00.009-06:00

I've come to the crawling realization that most of my writing is complete crap. Melodramatic, vague, stock, crap. These sour realizations come, at least once with each hobby, to tempt me to stop trying altogether. but. I'm going to choose to believe that this is the best thing to happen to me in months. The realization of inadequacy means that I'm seeing my work from a new vantage point, without knowing it, I've been moving forward. It reminds me of the time my dad bought me my first SLR. I had never contemplated photography and couldn't tell an f-stop from an f-bomb but I loved that damn camera. I took it everywhere and photographed everyone. I remember one night at one of any hipster house shows, a sort-of-friend sidled up to me clutching her camera what settings are you using, it's so hard to capture this. I smiled and replied importantly well, right now I'm using "Sport" to capture the fast movements. She looked at me as if we were sharing a joke, chuckled, right, which exposure are you shooting with right now? I smiled back at her and said, oh well sometimes, in the dark, I use "Nighttime" because, even though it's blurry, it has better lighting! At the time I thought I was being helpful, now I laugh every time I imagine what she must have thought of me. Funny that in my mind's replay reel I can so clearly I see the pity on her face as she realized that I was serious, even though I missed it entirely the first time around. Present knowledge brought the ability to recognize my own absurdity, as it has many times, and will continue to do for the rest of my life if I can manage to remain pliable. It's only with new knowledge that I can see my errors. And so with each throbbing, embarrassing error I must graciously welcome my friend, knowledge, shun intimidation and continue to progress; teetering on a balance: never proudly seeing my flawed creations as perfection, never becoming so discouraged with my ineptitude that I simply give up.

Lately Burt's Bees Radiance Serum has become a calming ritual in lieu of all makeup use. I've started carrying the miniature glass bottle in my school bag. Dripping a tiny amount into my fingertips I rub it into my face and neck without glancing away from the computer screen, wonder how to improve my mind, murmer if you feel like putting some more coffee on i wouldn't mind in the least, take a breath and type.

check out the whole series by Tim Walker here.

piercing

2010-11-10T16:37:00.000-06:00

Today.

2010-11-10T16:27:00.009-06:00

is sleepy. early. sleepy.

~~class~~
~~class~~
~~Talked with professor about negatives/learned about scanner~~
~~bought groceries!~~
~~e-mailed English dept.~~
~~wrote~~
~~dishes, i hate dishes.~~
~~cooked!~~
~~finally organized november onto a visible document, oh shit.~~
~~e-mailed anth prof again. (i hate email, big deal).~~
~~did some laundry!~~
~~cleaned, minimally.~~

remember: i will always feel better knowing i tried than knowing i could have done so much more and just didn't. stomping on the intimidation of 1,000 tasks.

Today.

2010-11-09T13:30:00.104-06:00

Today is adventurous and productive. I feel like God just kissed me on the cheek. More on that later.

More (cellphone pics):

Amended List

Buy Film

Shoot Man v. Nature assignment at the community garden.

Adventure

~~Class.~~

Get on the Roof.

Read for Class. did 1/2 the reading.

Class.

Develop photos.

Cook.

Yoga.

~~Go to Digital Media lab, Scan, Edit, send to print.~~

~~Map out All November Assignments.~~

~~Do Homework.~~

While waiting for photos to develop i ended up having a beer with B and there ended my productivity. I'm still finding posting these things kind of motivating, but also feeling like it's just creepy to talk about my life in such detail on le blog. hm.

Unless staring at walls counts as progress...

2010-11-09T01:47:00.003-06:00

So far my November [productivity] Hiatus has looked more like November Nap-time. I've been exhausted and when I'm not working or in class I've been feeling like this:

image via sabino

Today I sat on the floor in the shower for so long that I half expected to be there until someone came to fish me out. After finally trudging, sopping wet, to my bed I lay under warm blankets in a dark room until dry. ha. Thankfully I spoke with a few darling friends who kind of screwed my head back on. Here's to pressing forward, celebrating accomplishments that might seem trite to a stronger swimmer.

Today:

~~1 & 1/2 hours of yoga complete with much needed meditation/prayer~~

~~phoned sisters and parents, important conversations intimidate me and i put them off.~~

~~attended both early morning classes~~

~~got out of the damn shower. left the house!~~

~~wrote some scraps~~

~~le blog.~~

sparse.

Tomorrows plan:

Buy film.

Shoot Man v. Nature assignment at the community garden.

Class.

Map out All November Assignments.

Yoga.

Homework.

sorry to bore you all with the mundane details of my life. publishing my lists seriously motivates me. at least there's a pretty picture!

hello darling,

2010-11-03T22:41:00.003-05:00

You’re sticking in my chest,

lingering on my skin,

there’s an itch in my joints,

a restless twitch in my limbs,

a humming ache in my spine.

There's a tug on my nape,

and a voice in my head

reprimanding my doubt,

while my squally belly

combats my compliance.

I’m not conflicted, simply

settled into muck and turpentine.

november hiatus

2010-11-03T21:21:00.025-05:00

Paige and I were trying to decide what to name November, but came up with nothing good. Any suggestions? June/July/August/September were consumed by full time work as a waitress and school. They were stressful, and ultra busy. I fell into a routine of eat > sleep > work > study *repeat* that left little time for occasionally catching up with friends and even less to catch up with my own mind--it actually provided a bit of a needed mental break. October was fun, busy and loads of fun. I did the bare minimum for school, took a few days off of work, hosted lots of friends from home and celebrated my 22nd birthday. It's now November and I've cut back a little on my usual work hours to settle into having less money and a bit more time. With finals and the holidays quickly approaching and an empty bank account, from all previously mentioned fun, I've got to focus. In an effort to make this enjoyable I bought myself a birthday gift that I couldn't really afford and now have 1 month of free yoga. I thought if I posted some of this it would help me to stick to it, no pressure to read my progress chronicles, but maybe you can pretend to so that I feel like someone will reprimand me if I don't listen to myself? Thanks.

When I say November it feels like a lot of time but the first 3 days have slipped away in what felt like 5 minutes and I've only got 27 left.

My initial reaction to feeling stressed about how much I need to do is to set limits for myself. I always think that if I follow a set of rules, I will have nothing to do but get in great shape, get all A+'s, be healthy and alert at work, and become a brilliant writer/ artist. But I've made lots of rules like this before and generally my life ends up like this:

Rules Reality

+ No TV. + More TV.

+ No excessive interwebs. + Excessive interwebs.

+ No drinking/social outings + Lots of drinking and going out.

+ No spending money/eating out. + Zero dollars in bank account.

I've never been good with rules, always wanting to break them, so why do I insist on making them for myself? Instead I'm going to make some goals that I'll want to achieve hopefully there will be a natural reaction similar to some of my ugly rules.

Goals:

+ Go to yoga every other day or every day.
+ Read all assigned Anthro/ English reading. It's honestly fascinating, why wouldn't I?
+ Put effort into photography assignments.
+ Do one or all of these things every day: Read, Paint, Write.
+ Create a space in this damn apartment that I can call my own and love. (I've been so busy/ never home and my room looks like a war zone. We've all been so busy that our front living room is used for storage. I pretty much hate being here)....essentially nest.
+ Write back to some of the beautiful people who have sent me letters.
+ Actually thanks to my Yoga purchase I can't afford to go out/eat out. So, cook!
+ Sleep enough.
+ Show my friends and family love
+ Get involved in the right organization (the continuation of a life long search)

Attachment.

2010-11-02T00:22:00.004-05:00

The desperation

of preservation of

idiosyncratic

remains.

2010-11-02T00:20:00.007-05:00

Hot

Hah

Shh
Sizzle

Pop.

Wordy

2010-10-29T14:44:00.002-05:00

selenography |ˌseləˈnägrəfē|nounthe scientific mapping of the moon; lunar geography.